#“everything’’ aka getting blown up and your whole world turning on its head as you can no longer do what you could when you were younger

[0vergrowngraveyard]

despite everything

[letsperaltiago]

somewhere only we know

This is my entry for the B99 Summer 2021 Fic Exchange and it's for lovely Johanna aka. @amyscascadingtabs <3 I picked the prompt: "Jake and Amy going on a babymoon and enjoying some time together before everything changes for good."

It's very simple and just pure good, happy parents to be-vibes so yeah :) I initially wanted to add smut but didn't have the time to write it :(( If you feel like it's something you'd like, then feel free to lemme know! I can always add a chapter two heh. Anyways, enjoy!!

Rating: G

Words: 2.7k

Read here or on Ao3

“Jake, this is… amazing.”

This seems to be all Amy can come up with as the hotel room presents itself before her. Better or bigger words seem to be lacking from her otherwise excellent vocabulary but she blames it on the fact that she’s been carrying a tiny human for the past 35 weeks - not that she’s complaining. It’s been hard, both physically and mentally, and there are a few more weeks to go but by the end of it all, she’ll be holding her little baby boy. 

She’s tired and every inch of her body swollen and/or sore, but more importantly she’s eager and excited. Jake is too, if not even more than her, and this has resulted in the current scene: their babymoon. 

“You like it?” 

The way Jake asks her, eyes shining with innocent expectation and voice laced with childish excitement has her imagining just how their little boy will turn out to be. She can’t hold back her smile. This man will walk to the end of the earth to make her happy, essentially already has during this pregnancy, and the babymoon is just as much for him as it is for her. 

She turns on her heels to face him, showing him the bright smile that’s plastered on her makeup-free face which has gained some freckles during her pregnancy. 

“You could’ve planned a trip to a dumpster and I would still love it.”

Hands cupping his scruffy cheeks she pulls him in for a short but tender kiss that even so many years later, after thousands of kisses, has his toes curl in excitement. She truly would’ve stayed anywhere as long as Jake was with her. Although she does appreciate the fact that she’s standing in a beautiful lakeview suite at the LakeHouse Inn. 

“Should we reassess how much we refer to dumpsters and other gross locations when we declare our love for each other?” 

She chuckles at his comment, lips resonating against the corner of his grin. 

“Should we?” She slowly slides her hands to the back of her neck, entangling her fingers to keep her latched onto him even as she pulls away to flash him a pretend contemplative expression.  

Eyebrows cocked in playfulness, they share an indicative look in silence, only for them to break it in unison. “Nahh.”

“Right? It’s what makes us us.” Jake pulls her in by the hips which are carrying their son. 

Everything about Amy reminds him of their little miracle and makes him feel all tingly and excited. One look at her, one touch, and he forgets about the rest of the world and its crappiness. He has Amy and together with the tiny human in her belly, she is his entire universe. 

“Exactly.”

She closes the gap between them (as much as she can with the full-blown balloon shape of her stomach). 

“So,” she mumbles against his lips, “what are your plans for us?” 

Sadly, the 3-hour drive from home didn’t do wonders for her heavily pregnant body and even though she won’t admit it out loud, she hopes her husband’s plans for tonight will demand the bare minimum of her. She feels his lips and body withdraw, prompting her eyes open however the mischievous smile that meets her has a dimmed anxious feeling creeping over her - he does remember she’s 35 weeks pregnant, right? 

“I know that look, Peralta.” Her voice is distrustful, and after 7 years together she should know better than giving in to his teasing, but her suspicious air only fuels his fire and desire to mess with her. 

“In honor of my incredible and always so organized wife, there’s a tightknit schedule waiting for us.”

Tightknit schedule? Amy would usually be beaming at these words but right then and there, swollen legs, hungry and feeling everything but hot and fit after the drive, she aches to fall back onto the bed and sleep for days. It’s huge, king-sized, with crispy white sheets and the fluffy pillows are definitely calling her name. Although, the fact that Jake has everything planned out for their last vacation together, just the two of them, does pull on some heartstrings. He loves her so much and she loves him so much too. So much that she (almost) doesn’t turn a hair when he proudly starts listing their schedule for the evening and following day. 

“So right now it’s 4 PM which means unpacking-time. At 6 we have a dinner reservation at this cute little restaurant in a little town nearby so we’ll need to leave at approximately 5.45. At 8 there’s a showing of Die Hard at the local movie theater, which I thought we could attend?”

Okay, maybe her left eye flinches at this but very discreetly (or so she chooses to believe). 

“Then tomorrow there’s breakfast at 7, which is perfect because we have canoeing on the lake at 8.30...” 

She zones out after this. Hormones, tiredness, the fact that she can’t feel her feet- there are a thousand reasons but Amy can feel the most is tears prickling, threatening to spill. Not because she doesn’t appreciate her husband’s efforts and grand gestures, all for her, but because she can’t stand the thought of doing any of these sweet things he’s planned for them. She can’t cry though. He’s going to think something is actually wrong.

“Babe?”

However far gone she was, the sound of Jake’s voice pulls her back in and there’s a confusing mixture of mischief and pure adoration shining from these famous deep brown eyes. Why is he almost smiling when she’s having a tiny meltdown?

“Are you crying?”

“No?” she scoffs although she’s proven wrong upon touching her cheek where her fingers are met by a thin wet streak. “I’m just,” she clears her throat in hopes of avoiding a strained voice, “so overwhelmed by happiness and everything you’ve planned for us. It all sounds… great.”

Silence dawns upon them as Amy’s fake smile tries to convince him. On his part, Jake is biting his lip in an attempt to hold back a laugh, but his wife’s panicked look and teary eyes have him failing to last and after a couple of seconds he breaks the quietness. 

“Honey, I’m messing with you,” he chuckles and quickly pulls her back in for a tight hug, as tight as the belly allows, pecking the top of her head. “I know you love a good schedule but the only plans I have for us are: staying in bed, ordering room service, and watching tv.”

“Oh, thank God.”

The moan of relief flies out of her before she can even consider how it must sound to Jake, a great deal of embarrassment hitting her upon realization. She just made it sound like she wouldn’t appreciate her husband’s effort to make this weekend of theirs the best. 

“Jake, I’m so sorry! I didn’t-”

She pulls back to look him in the eyes, ready to offer a sincere apology for her blunt exclamation. She never gets to. Instead, she’s met with a huge grin and her husband looking everything but mad or hurt. Almost as if he knew. He knew how she’d react. He wanted her to react.

“You sly sneak! You knew you’d freak me out!” 

Only her husband can trick her like this, and, on one hand, it’s very endearing... Jake Peralta is more than just a good cop; he’s excellent. Brilliant and bold, maybe even too much sometimes, although he usually gets away with it. Usually, she’s always on his heels and she hates to admit it, but her mommy brain and restless hormones are making it much harder, if not impossible, to keep up with his always upbeat pace. 

“Of course I knew, babe.”

No matter how hard she tries, she can’t even find it within herself to be genuinely annoyed with him. He’s pulled her back into his arms and is looking at her with that mischievous smile that can both infuriate and enchant her. Tonight it’s a little bit of both although mostly the latter, she has to admit and the last bit of annoyance melts away the second he leans in, offering her a soft kiss that lets reminds her of the fact that he’s the best thing in the whole damn world. 

“I love you,” she manages to mumble against his lips before he can pull too far back, her swollen fingers cradling his jaw to emphasize her words. It tampers with any kind of reasoning and her ability to remain miffed. 

“I love you too...” her husband mumbles back against her lips. 

Pulling away isn’t an option, he’s too addicted and he enjoys feeling the air coming from her nose when she chuckles. “How much?”

“At the very least enough to not make my heavily pregnant wife canoe around a lake.” 

“Peanut and I appreciate that very much.”

Although after all these months there’s a comfort and familiarity in being able to rub her belly and know her son is in there, safe and sound, knowing he soon enough will be out here in the real world with them has butterflies fluttering in her chest. Jake’s hand joining hers in stroking her belly only causes the number of butterflies to multiply, explode all over again, and her hormones are making her question whether she wants to cry or laugh - or perhaps do both. After such a long wait, from the second they decided to start trying, there’s no blaming her impatience. There’s so much to expect and patience has never been her strongest asset. Only when it comes to Jake and their son. She’s impatient to see, hear and feel it all. The life and adventure she’s created with the man she loves the most seems scarily close yet torturously far away. 

With no reason to leave in sight, Amy finds herself bundled up in a hotel bed sent from heaven, wearing nothing but panties and her favorite nursing bra. Jake is on an errand run to grab her the creme cheese-filled pierogis and Arroz con Leche their son and she are very much craving. Although she does prefer her abuela’s homemade version of the latter, even a pregnant Amy can come to terms with the fact that there are limits to Jake’s super husband-powers. He can and will get her almost anything as long as physically possible - or within a radius of 20 miles which Abuela Dolores at this given time for good reasons isn’t. 

Amy had insisted on the hotel’s room service menu being more than fine, but her husband knows her all too well and could tell she wasn’t content with the ravioli and créme brulée she’d originally settled for. Before she could even begin to protest his offer to run out and get it for her, her husband had pulled on a pair of jogging pants and a hoodie, grabbed his keys, and left her behind with a peck to the top of her head and a promise to be back in not too long. 

In all honesty, the ravioli and creme brulée would’ve been fine, and she would’ve preferred Jake to be here to cuddle her. Nonetheless, there’s no denying how loved and important Jake makes her feel. Especially when he suddenly walks in the door, multiple plastic bags hanging on his arms and car keys dangling from his mouth. The view is hilarious, to say the very least, and she wonders: how did she ever get so very lucky? 

Perhaps she will never know the answer to this. Luckily when you’re cuddled up in a soft hotel bed eating pierogis, fries, grapes, and Arroz con Leche with the love of your life, it doesn’t really matter how you got there. Being too busy talking, eating, and making out, the documentary about the history of paper Amy’s been dying to watch is mostly just background noise. 

“Can you believe we’re having a baby?”

Her husband’s mouth is filled with fries and before she can even think of answering his question, she has to reach over to wipe ketchup from the corner of his mouth. 

“Yes… but also no. In a good way.”

It’s true. She always knew she wanted kids but wanting is one thing; actually outliving it still seems surreal to her, even as she runs her hands around the curve of the skin encapsulating their very own little human being. What makes it so much more surreal is the fact that Jake Peralta is the father. Jake Peralta, the guy who she 6 years ago could only pine for. Now she’s lying in bed with him, watching him smile at her with those soft, brown eyes and warm rosy lips that she not so secretly hopes their son will inherit. He swiftly wipes oil and salt off his fingers before reaching over to place his hands on top of her belly. Placing hers on top of his happens like a newfound reflex of hers. His hand is warm and feels like home.

“This is probably the last getaway we’ll have, yanno, just the two of us.”  

His soft voice has her looking up from their joined hands on her belly to see him looking directly at her with glistening eyes, the blue light from the television casting a blue hue on the side of his head. He looks so handsome, pensive, so perfect and she can’t come to terms with the fact that he’s her’s and she his, and together they’ve created new life.

“Yeah. More likely than not.” 

“How do you feel about that? Are you scared? You know- of giving birth and how life will be after that?”

A few beats of silence go by, only the dull sound of the tv filling the otherwise silent room. His hand never slips out of from beneath hers. Does this question maybe reflect some worries of his? 

“Not scared, per se...”

She quickly makes sure that there’s no food in-between them before scooting in closer to him. Her hand slips off of his only to slide up his arm, all the way up to cup his face. There’s close to no room between them. Her thumb dances across his cheekbone. 

“... Excited, maybe a bit anxious, but I know it’ll be alright and so very worth it in the end. And yeah, our life nd dynamic might have to change a bit but it’ll always be us. But I’m not scared,” This seems to put a damper on his running mind. “And you know why?”

“Hm?”

“Because I have the world’s best baby daddy.”

As hoped a wide smile lights up his face, pure unadulterated joy so obviously present in this little moment of theirs. Worries seem irrelevant and non-existing. 

“Are you worried, babe?” 

She sees his smile fade a bit but not enough to genuinely worry her. Just like everyone, he has his thoughts and worries. With care comes worries. He wants to do his best, she knows. 

“Maybe a bit, you know? Like not genuinely worried like I would’ve been a few years ago, but just… averagely worried.” 

“That’s okay,” she comforts, her thumb still tracing smooth lines on his cheek. “It’s normal. It just means you care and want to do good, which is all I can really ask of you.” 

“I do care. A lot. So so much,” he chuckles shyly. 

“Which is also why you’re going to be fine, I will be fine and everything will be fine.” 

She doesn’t give him the time to agree nor protest but instead leans in to place a long, tender kiss on his lips, inviting him to join in on the moment.  It’s just a simple kiss, soft, like the one they had a Shaw’s after agreeing to stop trying (which eventually lead to more trying, but that’s beside the point). With every breath, they take the kiss grows deeper, longer. It’s as if their bodies are aware of the fact that this will be the last time they get to do this without a child to get home to; without the responsibility of being a parent. All at once, it’s frightening but also, more than anything, exciting. Their lives might be on the verge of changing forever. Although lying there in bed together, feeling the soft touch of their spouse, it feels like they’ve never changed and never will. They’re always going to be Jake and Amy. 

[lucisfavoritedemon]

Crossed Oceans of Time

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Summary: Y/n always thought her hope was lost till an unexpected call from an old friend has her traveling across time to save the man she thought was once lost in an ocean of time.

Warnings: angst, fluffy fluff, cursing, hopelessness (idk why I make the reader so depressed)

Word Count: 4122

A/N: This is written for @sweeterthanthis Quote Me On It 6k Challenge. The prompt I chose was “I have crossed oceans of time to find you.” -Dracula. This story takes place during the events of End Game. I have incorporated the quote into the story. It will be bolded AND italicized. All mistakes are mine. 

Enjoy!

Everything I had seen had been a blur up to this point. My life flashed by so quick I never had a chance to process it all. Originally born in 1922, I never believed I would be able to see the day when technology would thrive. Here I am in 2023, 101 years later seeing the miracle of technology. 

I am a super soldier. One of the first experiments before Steve Rogers, aka Captain America. I volunteered myself to Dr. Erskine's experimentation, so he could develop a better, more safe serum. 

I fought by Rogers' side in many battles, including the one that would take his best friend. There is something you do not know though, of me and Sergeant Barnes. 

I had fallen for him. Not just a usual school girl crush, no. It was full blown love. Like my body had been struck by lightning the moment I laid eyes on him. 

I could sit and talk for hours about Bucky, and how much he meant to me, but that would be pointless. Bucky was gone and yet I couldn't move on. Something was keeping my heart from finding love again. 

Steve and I fought one last time together to defeat Red Skull. We thought it was the end for us, that we would be with Bucky again, but fate is a cruel mother thing. Oddly enough, the serum in our veins stopped our bodies from dying. It preserved us and helped us stay alive. 

When I woke up, all I remembered was crashing the ship. I had no recollection of anything else after. That's when we found out we were in the year 2012. For 70 years we were on ice. Poor Steve was heartbroken about Peggy, and I couldn't help but wish I was with Bucky. 

Time flew by like it was nothing, and all I felt I did was stand still and watch it go by. Steve and I had parted ways after we got back. I was hired to work for S.H.I.E.L.D. which I didn’t mind till in 2014 it all came crashing down. Almost quite literally. S.H.I.E.L.D. had HYDRA growing right under its nose. I was again left alone with nothing but a shattered heart.

Nick Fury tried to help me get back onto my feet but I wanted nothing to do with him, or anyone anymore. I was too heartbroken to even think about what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. I really just wanted my Bucky back. That’s all I could ever ask of the world. 

Five years ago, something happened. I felt like my life had fallen apart again. All the friends I had attempted to make, all disappeared. I wasn’t the only one who lost people they loved and cared for. I finally felt maybe other people out there were feeling the same way I did.

Here in 2023, I have been without the love of my life for almost 80 years. I kept asking why I got to live while he was taken from the world so soon. I never got the answer to that rhetorical question, asked to no one in particular. That was till I got a peculiar call from an unknown number. I answered it hoping it would be the reaper I hoped to be greeted by to take me to the love of my life.

“Y/n?” It was a voice I hadn’t heard in almost a decade. One I thought I’d probably never hear again either.

“Steve.” I sounded cheery for once since I had been out of the ice.

“Hey. How are you doing? I know it’s been years since we talked, but I wanted to see if you wanted to go for a drive? Just you and me.” He asked, and I could tell he was smiling some on the other end.

“That sounds lovely, Steve. I’ve been hanging in there. Since S.H.I.E.L.D. and the whole HYDRA thing, I’ve just been laying low.”

“Where are you living now?” Steve queried.

“I’m living in Brooklyn actually. In my old neighborhood. 

“You used to live in Brooklyn before the war?”

“Yep. I actually lived above the antique shop. You know the one.”

“Yeah. I didn’t know we lived so close, yet we never met you till Erskine introduced us.”

“Yeah. Maybe then I wouldn’t feel the way I do now…” I sounded melancholy.

“I’m not too far from where you are. Meet where the antique shop used to be. We can talk more then, I have something I think you would love to hear.”

“Okay. I’ll meet you there.” I said, and hung up quickly. I knew there was nothing he could have told me that would make me jump for joy. He couldn’t say anything that would make my smile come back. It was gone, and faded with time.

I met him where that antique shop used to be, and I could almost picture it all. The cobblestone streets, the kids playing baseball, the world used to be a different place back then. It’s not like it was anymore, and I wish that it kind of was. 

“Hey.” Steve smiled, walking up to me.

“Hi.” I gave a small smile, but he could tell I had sadness written all over my face.

“What’s wrong?” Concern spread across his face.

“Nothing. This is just how I smile now.”

“Whoever took away your beautiful, contagious smile is going to pay.”

“Time took my smile away.”

“”Come on. I want to talk to you about something.” His smile grew wider as he led me to his car. 

He opened the door for me, and I climbed in. I buckled up as he climbed into the driver’s seat. We headed out of the city, down the countryside. The scenery was beautiful, but I still couldn’t bring myself to start a conversation.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. I have been for 11 years. What’s 40 more gonna do right?” I gave an extremely sad smile.

“Is this about Bucky?”

“There were so many times in my life where we could have met. Maybe just a year longer with him, and I would be able to move on, or maybe not. I was in love with him, Steve. The way I felt the night we first met, it was like everything in my life finally made sense. I felt like I had a purpose.”

“He’s actually the reason I wanted to talk to you.”

“What do you mean?”

“He was alive. I need your help getting him back.”

“What do you mean? That’s impossible. We both watched him die.”

“Remember when all those men were captured from the 107th, including Bucky, back in ‘43?”

“Yeah, and we went to rescue them.”

“Bucky was experimented on by Armin Zola. Turned into a super soldier himself.”

“Okay and?”

“Whatever Zola did to him, it helped him survive the fall.”

“So what I’m understanding is, you knew he was alive this entire time, and you’re just now telling me about it?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but I need your help getting him back now.”

“Okay. You keep saying that, but if he is alive, why would we need to get him back?”

“Remember 5 years ago when half the earth’s population just vanished?”

“Yeah?”

“Bucky was part of that half.”

“And you think we can get him back?”

“I think we can bring back all the life lost 5 years ago. It requires us going back in time though.”

“Time travel? You’re promising time travel in a time where we thought flying cars were going to be a thing.”

“It’s possible though. We’ve tested it, and everything is up and working. We have all the dates in order, we just need the man power.”

“Alright, if it means bringing Bucky back, I’ll do it.”

“Thank you.”

Steve drove us to a huge building practically in the middle of nowhere. There I was greeted by a group of people, one of which I recognized from a brief meeting years ago. The others I didn’t know. I mean one man looked oddly familiar, but I could quite put my finger on where I had seen him before.

“Everyone, this is Y/n. She is an old friend of mine.” Steve introduced me.

“I may be old, but I sure don’t feel like it.”

“Join the club.” Steve chuckled.

“I’m Natasha. We met briefly in D.C. a few years back.” The woman I had recognized approached.

“Yes, I remember you. It’s nice to officially meet you on slightly good terms. While not being utterly terrified by a man with a metal arm.” I smiled slightly, trying to imagine how it would feel to see Bucky once more.

“So how do you two know each other?” The man that I swore looked familiar, spoke up.

“Steve and I fought together during the war.”

“Does that mean she also knew Barnes?” The man questioned.

“Yes. She did. In fact they were together for two years before HYDRA took him.”

“How does he know about Bucky?” I asked, growing concerned.

“It’s a long story.”

“I’m Tony Stark by the way.” The man spoke up, and everything was now coming together.

“I knew you looked familiar to me somehow. You look just like your father.”

“Yeah, well, join the club with everyone who says that.” Tony sounded irritated.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Y/n, it’s alright.” Steve spoke up before Tony could say anything.

He could probably tell I was freaking out. My goal was to help, not make things worse. I could tell by just opening my mouth, I was doing just that. Steve started to rub my back to calm me down.

“Is everything okay?” Natasha asked.

“She’s been through a lot. She didn’t even know Bucky was alive until a couple hours ago.” Steve replied.

“For so long I wished that something would happen so I could be back in his arms again. Now, I have a chance to see him again, and not in the afterlife. He is the man of my dreams, the love of my life. I have never felt this way about anyone before, and the fact that I have tried to move on, but couldn't just shows that I truly did love him.”

“Does she know about him?” Tony asked.

“Not about that. She doesn’t need to know.” Steve stated sternly.

“Know about what? Steve? What aren’t you telling me?”

“Stark, I agree with Steve. If she knew about him, her opinion of him may change.” Natasha interjected.

“She deserves to know the man she loved then will not be the man she is getting back.”

“What are you all going on about?”

“Barnes was the man with the metal arm you spoke of.” Tony blurted out.

“You’re wrong. Bucky would never hurt anyone. He was someone who put others before himself. He would never kill anyone.”

Steve just gave an angry look to Tony. I didn’t know who to believe. Natasha just gave me an apologetic look. I couldn’t read anyone, they all seemed to look angry or apologetic, and I didn;t know who to believe.

“Maybe the Barnes you knew wouldn’t, but over 70+ years, people change.” Tony stated before walking inside.

“Steve? Was Bucky really the man with the metal arm? If he was, I want to know. It won’t change how I feel. I just need to know, so I can help him when he comes back.”

“Yes. He was what the world knew as the Winter Soldier. He isn;t like that anymore. I promise, but he is broken and traumatized from what HYDRA did to him.”

“Understandable. Now let’s go get him and everyone else back.” I smiled, and walked inside. I didn’t have to fake one anymore. I was just happy that I finally had the chance to see Bucky again. That maybe seeing each other again could mend our souls a little bit.

Steve led me to a room where he told me to suit up. I threw on the suit laid out for me, and met the others on the main level. Steve handed me two little vials which he told me would help take me where I needed to be. He told me I was to stay with him to make sure nothing happened to me. I was perfectly okay with that.

We were all ready to find these stones. Steve showed me a picture of the stones him, Tony, Scott, and I were to be getting. I just wanted to get this over with, to be with Bucky once more. I have waited a long time for this moment, and I just couldn’t wait any longer. 

“Everyone ready?” Bruce asked.

“See you guys in a minute.” Natasha smiled.

We all shrunk down, and our groups went separate ways. I made sure to not lose sight of Steve as we landed in our desired time. We all started walking the tattered streets of New York City, and I knew where we had landed.

“Banner, you find the time stone, Stark and Lang, you two get the tesseract. I’ll get the scepter.” Steve directed.

“What about me?” I asked, curious what my task would be.

“You are staying right here. We’ll all meet right back here once we have secured our items.”

“Why am I here then if you don’t need me?”

“In case things go south.”

I roll my eyes, “fine. I’ll stay here.”

“Thank you.”

They all walk off, and I stay put where they told me to. I listen to them talking on comms to each other. They were pretty entertaining if I was being honest. That was until they started saying they lost the tesseract. Things looked hopeless now.

“What are we gonna do now? The tesseract is gone, and we don’t have any more of the capsules.” Scott paced.

“I have an extra capsule that will get me where I want to be. Please let me do this Steve?”

“Fine. I think I have an idea where you might be going. Just be careful okay?” He hands me something, “put it in here when you grab it.”

“I will. I promise I’ll be careful. I’ll see you guys when I have aquired the tesseract.” I smile.

I plug in the time and date that I wanted, and shrunk down traveling back to January 1945. The day Steve and I put the plane in the water. I remember seeing Red Skull holding it that day, right before he disappeared actually. Maybe that’s what Steve meant by ‘be careful’.

I headed straight to the hanger, and climbed inside. I hid until I knew it was safe to come out. Which meant waiting till Red Skull took off. I waited for Steve, and I to start fighting Red Skull. I came out and prepared to grab the tesseract. I had the special case Steve handed me before I left.

When Red Skull disappeared, and Steve and I went to man the ship, I grabbed the tesseract. I plugged in the date to head back, and shrunk down again, heading back to the correct timeline. I arrived as everyone else returned as well. I looked around to make sure everyone was there, but one person was missing.

“Clint, where’s Nat?” Bruce asked, looking at Clint.

“Barton, where is she?” Tony asked, being more stern.

“She’s gone...it should have been me.” He sounded so sad. I felt for him. I knew how it felt to lose someone I cared so much about.

They all gathered by the water mourning Natasha’s sacrifice. I let them have their moment. It wasn’t my place to be with them while they grieved. It just didn’t seem right, or fair to them. I sat in the lab waiting for them to come back, and assemble the gauntlet.

Steve walked in and sat next to me, “how did it go?”

“It went well. It was weird seeing Red Skull and you, and me. I think I managed well though. Why did you give me an extra capsule?”

“I figured you would go and help us, then I’d let you go and be with Bucky. Get the time you lost back.”

“That makes no sense if I lose him in the end anyways.”

“Maybe part of me hoped you would change his fate. That way you never lost him. You would never have to know what it was like to lose him.”

“That’s really sweet of you Steve, but I don’t think that would be right. For me or him.”

“I understand. I just want you to know that your pain hasn’t gone unnoticed.”

“I’m glad it hasn’t, but I really wish you knew how much I needed you too. I didn’t just miss Bucky, you were my friend too.”

“I know, but you haven’t been the same since you thought he died. You have been more closed off, you don’t smile, or laugh like you used to. I just want you to be happy again. I want to see that beautiful smile, and hear your contagious laugh once more.”

“You will again one day. Right now though, you need to help the others make this gauntlet.” I gave a half smile before moving out of the way so the others could do their job.

I sat outside with my eyes closed. Just waiting for someone to walk up to me and make sure I was okay. The light from the sun was dimmed like a shadow moved in front of me. I smiled before opening my eyes, thinking that Steve, or maybe Bucky, was standing in front of me. When I looked, I saw something that looked like a meteor heading right for the building.

I tried to run inside, but it was too late. The ball, or cannon, or whatever had already hit the building. I wiggle my way out from under the debris, but I could tell I had a pretty severe wound on my abdomen. I tried to call out to someone, but I got no response. I hoped that everyone was alright. 

I finally was able to stand up, and walked outside. There I saw Thor standing, and watching someone. I walked over to him, putting pressure on my side to make sure I stopped the bleeding. That’s when I saw Steve walking up to him too.

“What’s he doing?” Steve asked, looking where Thor was looking.

“He’s just sitting there.” Thor responded. “He doesn’t have the gauntlet right?”

“Not that I can see.”

“Let’s keep it that way.” Steve said, walking over to me.

“Who is that guy?” I asked, looking confused.

“That’s Thanos. He’s the reason half the earth’s population disappeared 5 years ago.”

“Did he figure out what we were planning?”

“It’s not the same Thanos. The one from our time, Thor killed him.” Steve said, walking over to him.

“I used to think that destroying half the planet's life would be good enough, but the other half that stuck around seems to be ungrateful. Looks like I may have to destroy this world, and create a new one, one that will be grateful for the world I have provided.”

That’s when Thor charged at Thanos, and the fight began. Tried to fight as much as I could, but I was losing more and more blood every second. I ran at him, thinking he was going to hurt Steve, but he stopped me and threw me against some rubble. I attempted to get up, but the pain was too much to fight anymore.

I watched as Steve prepared to fight by himself. I wish I had the strength to stand up and fight next to him. I just couldn’t bear the pain anymore. That’s when I heard a voice over comms that sounded kind of familiar. 

“Cap, can you read me. On your left.” The voice said, and these vortex-like things opened up, and out walked three people.

Steve turned to me, and saw that I was on the ground. He reached his hand out to me, and I took it, standing up. He smiled at me, and prepared to fight. That’s when armies of people walked through these vortexes. I stayed close to Steve, finding comfort in the one person I knew fairly well. 

“You okay?” He asked.

“I’ll be okay. I just want this douchebag dead. He took Bucky away, and now he wants to destroy the entirety of planet earth. He deserves what’s coming to him.” 

Steve smiled, “you really haven’t changed a bit. More depressed than what I remember, but your attitude is still the same.” He chuckled lightly.

I giggled, and prepared to fight to the end. I didn’t care if I died, I just wanted Steve and Bucky to live. Steve stood at the front of the army he was leading, perhaps into our last battle. I was ready to do anything. I had found my hidden strength to keep fighting till I physically couldn’t keep fighting anymore. That was quicker to come than I thought. I knew I was losing a lot of blood, but I didn’t know how quickly. Turns out when Thanos threw makeup against the rubble, I created an even bigger wound. 

Only a few minutes into the now fair fight, I started to get really dizzy. I tried to grab a hold of someone before I fell, but there was no one around me. I hit the ground and I was out for the count.

~*~

I don’t know how long I had been out for, or if I was still even alive. To my surprise, and Steve’s happiness, I was.

“Hey there sweetheart.” Steve smiled, gripping my hand tightly.

“Did we win?” Of course that would be my first question. It was the first question I asked when we came out of the ice.

He chuckled, but his look turned sad, “we won, but we lost at the same time.”

“What do you mean? Did he snap them away again?” My heart was pounding in my chest. The fear painted across my face.

“No. Everyone who disappeared is back, but Tony...he snapped Thanos and his army away, but he didn’t make it.” Steve gave me an extremely sad look.

I squeezed his hand, not even paying attention to the fact someone had just walked into the room. I didn’t even notice the person till Steve looked over to them, and got up. I couldn’t quite tell who it was because where they were standing was kind of dark. That and my eyes were fully adjusted yet, but I could tell they were tall and well built, they also had semi-long hair.

“Go on. She’s been waiting.” Steve spoke up, seeing me stare at them.

The person came closer, and I was met with their mesmerizing blue eyes. I smiled at them as they came over to sit down. He seemed closed off, or just really shy. I couldn’t quite get a read on him for whatever reason. 

“Hey.” He gave a very small smile, almost shy.

“Hey.” I smile more. 

“I’ve missed that smile.” Steve spoke up.

I giggled, “well it’s thanks to you that I feel like I can be happy again.”

The man sitting next to me just looked down. I put my hand out for him to take. He grabbed it very gently. It was colder than I thought it would be. I looked down, and saw a metal hand. He tried to pull away, but I gripped his hand tight.

“You’re not scared?” He asked.

“Because I have crossed oceans of time to find you.” I smile wide, bringing his hand to my lips, kissing it gently.

Steve smiled, “you knew it was him the whole time didn’t you?”

“Of course. Those eyes are unforgettable, and his voice is unmistakable.” I felt the hand around mine tighten, and his smile got bigger.

“I’ve missed you doll. I’ve missed you so much.” Bucky spoke.

“I missed you too. I never thought that I would ever see you again.”

We stared lovingly at each other for a while. Enjoying just taking in the fact that he was back into my life. That I had him back. That the best thing that ever happened to me was back. It was the best feeling in the world, one that I thought I would never be able to feel again. I finally felt like my heart had been put back together, and Bucky held the mold in his hands.

[yeojaa]

( GHOST IN MY BED. )

Sometimes, hating someone is the only thing you can do.

pairing.  jjk x named f!reader.  a bit of jhs x named f!reader (but not really)?

genre + rating.   rockstar!au.  e2l (exes n enemies!).  general flangst?  anguf?  a blend of angst and fluff, tbh.  mainly angst tho.

tags / warnings.  sibling dynamics, introspective sadness, talk about not-so-healthy relationships (obviously), dumbass!jk, asshole!jk, jealous!jk, how many more jk tags can i add?, a silly reference to scott pilgrim.  nothing serious. 

beta reader(s).  @hobi-gif​ aka the loml!!!

wc.  3.1k

chapter four.

You and Yoongi don’t fight.  It’s always been a point of pride - something to look at and smile on. 

That must be why it feels so terrible now, with his knuckles blown white and enough rage to start a war simmering within his veins.  You’ve never seen him like this:  a world away from your soft Yoon, your best friend, your beloved brother.

“Yoongi, really--” 

“No.  Stop saying that.”  Despite the fact that you know his anger isn’t directed at you - that you’re the farthest target in his mind - it still hurts, like getting caught in friendly fire.  Pinpricks of guilt spill across your skin, nerve endings shot to hell by the way his mouth curls and tears, venom laced between his teeth and draped across his tongue.  “He came here and you didn’t tell me?  I told you - I’ll kill him.”

Hyperbole, you’re sure, but you can’t help the way your heart stutters.  A little oh no for a boy who doesn’t deserve it - whose silhouette still carves a spectacularly painful hole in your chest.

“I didn’t want you to worry--”  It’s not an excuse.  It’s not meant to be.  You never lie to Yoongi.  Frankly, you don’t think you could.  

“You’re my sister.”

It’s enough of a rebuttal that you’re reduced to silence.  He’s right.  You’re family;  family don’t keep secrets.

“I’m sorry,”  you try again, feeble and emphatic.  

There’s an unbearable distance between you - a sea’s worth of sadness that rocks the rickety boat you’ve built.  You can practically see it stretching on and on, sweeping you further and further from his safe shores.  It’s an awful feeling. 

“You’re my sister,”  he repeats, suddenly so tired you worry for him.  For once, he looks that much older than you, as if five years have forced passages of experience within his pages.  “You can’t hide things from me.  Who’s going to be there for you if not me?”  

You want to rebuff him - insist that you’re stronger than he gives you credit for - but you know it’s not what he means.  More than anyone, Yoongi believes in you.  He sees your strength even when you can’t see your own;  he’s been that strength more times than you can count.  

The reality of your situation isn’t lost on you.

He’s the only one who knows everything you’ve been through.  A diary in living breathing form, full of your most shameless secrets, your deepest worries, your worst heartbreaks.  

“I know.”  Apology threads each syllable, stitches them neatly to each other.  The sincerity is blinding, bright white and earnest.  “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”  

The smile he offers is rueful, twisting the edge of his mouth in a manner you’ve adopted over the years.  You return it without thought and then, all at once, the expanse is closed.  He’s laughing - a sound that doesn’t ring true in the way you know it should - but it’s a laugh and you know everything is okay.

“Still worried,”  he returns with a quiet sigh and flick of his wrist.

You’re with him in a breath, curled against his side on the couch you’d cried yourself to sleep on just days ago.  While you’re both far closer in size than you’ve ever been - you were always a tiny kid growing up, even against Yoongi’s own slim frame - it’s reminiscent of your childhood and being caught beneath haphazardly strewn sheets and disorganised chaos in the form of blanket forts.

Dry lips find a home against the side of your head, his arm dragging you to warmth.  “You’re an idiot, you know.”  He says it in the way only an older brother can - with all the frustration and love in the world.  

You do know, intimately well, how idiotic you are.  Have been.  Seemingly always will be.

“I know,”  you mumble, sad into the raised hood of your sweater.  “But I made him leave.”  It sounds like a child begging for praise - to be told they’ve done well.  You won’t deny you need it now.  

Good is the first thing Yoongi says, a little flippant and with a hard set of his jaw.  More comes when he catches your expression and the way the dent forms between your brows, the tiny pout of your lips.  It’s the same face you’ve made all your life - one that hits him right behind the ribs like a Whack-A-Mole game at the carnival.

“You did good, Vivi.  I’m proud of you.”  They’re bandages, sticky and adhesive on the stitches Jungkook’s visit had torn open.  “You’re great and he’s…”  There are words he’d like to use - a million scathing adjectives to paint the asshole in technicolour - but he knows better.  Knows you can’t take it, at least not right now.  “He doesn’t deserve you.  You get that, right?  You’re better off without him.”

You nod against his side but offer nothing further.  The silence speaks worrying volumes.

“You’re not going to answer him again, right?”  

Some half-mumbled non-committal response comes.  Yoongi wants to tear his own hair out.  Better yet, he wants to tear yours out.  Instead, he blows a long exhale through his nose, free hand coming to scrub across his face.  When will you learn?  

“I’m scared.”

It’s so quiet even you hardly hear it, ear tucked against the cotton of Yoongi’s flannel.  You think, for a moment, maybe he’s missed it too.  Then he squeezes you a little tighter:  a silent reassurance.

“Seeing him again just brings back so many memories.”  Every other word is muffled but it’s the most you can do.  Courage is carried quietly - too loud and you’ll shatter it.  “I thought three years would be enough.  It should be, right?”

It’s a rhetorical question;  Yoongi still debates answering it, just for his own sake.

“Maybe he’s changed.  Or maybe I’ve changed.  It could be different.”  It’s a clandestine belief and one you shouldn’t speak to life - especially to your brother.  It spills forth of its own accord, wrong for so many reasons but begging to be asked.  You have no control over it and the hope it sows somewhere within your chest.

“You can’t actually believe that.”  

It’s infinitely more scathing than Hoseok’s reaction, tearing out of Yoongi’s mouth like a bullet.  You can’t help the way you frown, brows drawn and lips pursed.  You’ve known Yoongi your whole life.  Reading between the lines feels like you’re fucking stupid but you know it’s not quite so harsh.  A frustrated you dumb idiot, maybe.

“Don’t make that face.”  

“I’m not making any face.”  

“Yes, you are.  It’s the same one you made when I embarrassed you on your first date.  Also the one you made after you threw up all over Hoseok’s shoes the first night you met him.”  The recollection doesn’t help your cause - you’re grimacing even more deeply, chagrin spilling into misery in the form of red hot heat over your cheeks.  “Don’t resent me for being realistic, Vivi.  You know he hasn’t changed.”

The silence is childish.  You know that.

“You can’t fix people.”

He arrives with flowers.  Two full bunches of your favourite blooms - pretty peonies in shades of coral and lavender.  They’re heavy in his arms, held so gingerly it’s almost comical as he extracts himself from the vehicle he most definitely should not be driving.  He wonders whether you’ll be home - if he’ll get to see your expression when he presents them to you.  He hopes you’ll light up, brighter than the sun in the sky and better than any nightlight.  

What he doesn’t expect is someone walking up the sidewalk, gym bag slung across his shoulder like he’s getting ready to settle in for a long night.  Short - atleast a few inches shorter than himself - with a stupid face that makes Jungkook want to punch it.  Dumb shoes, too.  Who the fuck wears Off-White Jordan 1s in that colourway?

There’s a permanent scowl etched across his face as he watches from behind the tinted comfort of his car, single hand caught around the edge of the door.  He’s vaguely aware of the fact that he’s perhaps crushing the stems cradled in his arms, inked knuckles blown white around quickly crumpling brown paper.

Maybe he’s your neighbour.  Or maybe he’s going to the other house or maybe—

No, he’s definitely walking right up the front path.

The words are out before Jungkook can stop them, shouted into the quiet afternoon more loudly than he anticipates.  “Hey!”

Dumbass with the face turns, full of surprise and wandering eyes.  He hesitates halfway up your stoop, looking stupider than ever as he looks around for the source of the voice.  

Then his stare falls on the brunet with his hands full and it’s like a flip has switched - mouth hardening into a line that raises the hairs on the back of Jungkook’s neck.  He’s glaring at him (or something close to it).  

Seriously - who is this fucker?

“Can I help you?”  Hoseok speaks far more reasonably, at an octave that doesn’t shatter the peace of the residential neighbourhood.  He’s still caught on the steps, fist tight around the strap of his bag as he studies the man - no, boy - that jogs up to meet him, two rungs the only thing separating the two of them.

“Do you know Vira?”

A part of Hoseok flinches at Jungkook’s casual use of your name - like he knows you or deserves to address you like an old friend.  This kid really was clueless.

When he speaks, he’s perfectly composed, tension held tight behind his teeth.  “I said, can I help you?”

Jungkook bristles at the response, some snarky comment threatening to knock the other off his apparent high horse.  He barely catches it, grinding it down into a fine powder beneath his molars.  He has to tread lightly here. 

“I’m a friend of hers.”  Not a lie, per se.  You two were friends;  after all, you’d come when he’d called.  That meant something, right?  Had to. 

“A friend?”  Disbelief slips into place, evident in the tone of Hoseok’s voice, how his brows shift beneath his chestnut fringe.  He knows better than to believe Jungkook - has heard all the heartbreaking stories - but he can’t quite keep the worry from worming it’s way into his thoughts.  They settle uncomfortably, just beneath the surface. “Is she expecting you?”

Everything about Hoseok makes Jungkook hate him.  From the sneakers he wears to the watch on his wrist - understated, all gold, more expensive than a nerd like him should have - there’s something undoubtedly punchable about him.

It certainly has nothing to do with the fact that he’s seemingly close with you.  Definitely not.

“I was going to surprise her.”  The flowers are held aloft, gesticulated in the best manner Jungkook can manage with his arms so full.  “I didn’t know she was expecting you.”  It’s a cheap tactic - recycling words - but he can’t think of much else beyond fitting his foot into this guy’s mouth.

“She’s not.”  Sharp, sparse, with no hint of indulgence.  Hoseok’s not about to get into a verbal sparring match with Jungkook.  It’s not worth his time.  

He is, however, going to put him in his place - and easily at that.

“She’s still at work.”  Slim bundle of keys rise - two unassuming and one for an Audi.  Perhaps unnecessary but Hoseok takes great pleasure in the other’s expression.

Tch is Jungkook’s first thought before the second smacks him straight in the face.  He has a key to your place?  The fact rubs him all the wrong ways despite the fact that he has no right to be bothered;  it isn’t his home any more - hasn’t been in years.  It still hurts, though, right behind his ribs and all the way down to the tips of his fingers.

Is this how you felt all those times?  

Something like nausea builds in Jungkook’s stomach, throwing acid up the walls of his throat.  It burns and strings, licking painfully all the way into his mouth.  His teeth ache - buzz uncomfortably - and his tongue feels suddenly far too heavy.  He wonders if he might choke on it.

Then, slowly, in a voice he doesn’t recognise.  Too soft, years younger, uncertain.  “Can you give these to her?”  He hates it.

He hates even more the way Hosoek looks at him, with such pity Jungkook wants to curl it around his fist and break the older man’s teeth with it.  It’s something he’s seen a handful of times - from you, from your brother, from his worried mother when she thinks he doesn’t notice.  It never gets easier. 

It forces him into a position he hasn’t been in in years:  weak.

“I don’t think so.”  By how calmly Hoseok speaks, it’s almost as if he’s commenting on the weather or passing along a banal bit of information.  It’s far too nonchalant to be breaking Jungkook’s heart, splitting it cleanly in two.

“Why not?”  Jungkook’s petulant, a child denied his favourite toy, forced into time-out.  

That’s not for you screams Hoseok’s expression.  She’s not for you.  “I’m not comfortable with doing so.”  

The sinking feeling hasn’t stopped for Jungkook.  It goes and goes until he wishes he were six feet under, buried under ground as low as he feels.  He should leave.  He knows he should leave - if only to stop the discomfort that’s gripping every nerve, twisting them like an elbow about to snap.  

“Anyway.”  There’s boredom working its way into Hoseok’s stare, relaxing the shape of his mouth until it falls wide around a short, terse sigh.  “If you’re friends, you can get in touch and drop them off later.”  

He’s done playing gatekeeper - can feel his frustration bubbling to the surface in a way he’s not about to entertain.  He nods once, dismissive, before turning away from the so-called rockstar that seems terribly small and the farthest thing from it.

“Goodbye.”  Then he’s disappearing into your home, leaving Jungkook on the steps with his tail between his legs.

You return home three hours later - blissfully unaware of what’s transpired.  

You set your dinner on the kitchen island, deftly unpacking takeout boxes as Hoseok hurries to your side to help.  You don’t mind when he bumps into you, knocking his hip against yours with a heart-shaped smile.

It burns a little brighter than usual.  “Good day?”  

He hums in response, sneaking a yellow tomato from the salad box he’s just popped open.  “Something like that.” 

“Something like that?”  You can’t help but echo him, a pretty parrot with shining eyes and a silk bow in your hair.  “Don’t play coy, Jung Hoseok.”  A digit closes the minimal distance between you, finding purchase against his side - right where he’s most ticklish.

He shrieks, nearly upending the fries he’s tried to dump onto a ceramic plate.

“Hey!”  Hands swat, then fold, catching your fingers between his in an awkward hand-hold.  “Keep your hands to yourself, Vi.” 

“You don’t complain normally,”  you retort.  You’re not wrong.  Skinship with you is one of his favourite things, fourth only to his dog, dancing, and a certain green-labelled soda.

“Well, today’s a special day.”  

Hoseok really doesn’t know where he’s going with his words - only hoping that he’ll find their destination somewhere along the way.  He doesn’t want to tell you too soon, all too aware of how the mention of your ex will bring this perfect moment crumbling down.  He wants to hold it, perhaps a little too tightly, for as long as he can.  He thinks he’s doing you a service, giving you these few extra minutes.

“Oh yeah?”  You’re twinkling eyes and pealing laughter, so far removed from the bag of bones and sadness of only days prior.  It’s hard to believe there’s something broken inside of there - tucked right behind your breastplate and out of sight.

“Yeah.”  

You wait for him to continue, opting instead to fill the silence with mouth noises.  He’ll tell you when he’s ready.  He always does.  

“Jungkook came by.”  It comes halfway through a bite of a french fry, the carb nearly bringing you to an early death when you choke on it.  All at once, everything spins, as if just the name is enough to upend your entire world.  Hoseok’s clapping your back, rubbing soothing circles over the cotton of your shirt, and you’re struggling to find words or breath - heaving around the sudden heaviness.

“What?”  So small, it’s hardly a word.

“He was here when I got here.”  You’re not oblivious to the careful way he speaks, choosing his words with utmost care.  You don’t miss his grip either, gentle and unyielding at your side - as if he might steady you beneath the sudden tidal wave of emotion.  

You do well, keeping your voice level once you’ve found it again.  “And?  What did he want?”

Hoseok does you the great service of pretending as if he doesn’t hear the hope in your voice.  You’re grateful for that. 

“He came with flowers.”  Not quite a laugh comes - more unimpressed and derisive than amused.  “Two bouquets, actually.”  You can feel him studying you from your periphery, his careful stare trained on your face and the dozen emotions that run rampant through it.  “Your favourite flowers too.”

Your laugh matches his own, though far heavier, as if the sound won’t form without immense effort.  “Wow.”

“Yeah.”  It’s a word you’ve heard a lot tonight.  It feels right.  One syllable to encompass every feeling you can’t properly articulate.  “He asked me to give them to you.”  

It should surprise you but it doesn’t.  Jungkook’s never been one to ask - instead taking what he wants - but it’s still funny.  Of course he’d ask that of Hoseok, as if the act itself weren’t terribly strange, the flowers an unwelcome, begging apology.  Jeon Jungkook only did what he wanted - etiquette be damned.

“I don’t see them anywhere.”  

“I told him I wasn’t comfortable doing it.”  There’s a touch of pride, glimmering gold painted over consonants and vowels.  It’s understated in the way that Hoseok always is - not how he looks, but is;  you’re drawn to it nonetheless, squeezing your fingers around his own in a silent thank you.

“I hope it wasn’t weird.”  It must have been.  It’s still the thought that counts.

Hoseok hams it up, scoffing like it’s just been another day.  “Weird?  Of course not.  I have to deal with my friend’s horrible exes all the time.  I’m practically Scott Pilgrim.”  

“Does that make me Ramona Flowers?”  

“No - but you’re my flower.”  He says it in jest, only to make you smile, because he knows you need it right now.

You try not to think of how you prefer Pumpkin, instead.

tag list.  @jalexad @aa-ronpa @kookiesbreaky @celestialflamefairy @xjoonchildx @pars-ley @seokjinssi @youwannabelostandnotbefound @patpus @dazedjjk @koozui @jinhitwhore @always-wishing-for-rain @neverthefirstchoice @snackhobi 

[carolyncaves]

WWX Goes to Gusu: Part 3, in which things get a little out of hand ... aka I was definitely not planning for this to become a full-blown elaborate wedding fic, but here we are. 8501 words, Wangxian, LXC, LQR, vague mental illness, tenderness and devotion, marriage proposal, Lan family feelings, the author trying to thread the needle re: nonheteronormativity vs vaguely gendered wedding & marriage things

part one | part two | also on ao3

Lan Wangji could see the precise moment Xichen realized what he was suggesting – a marriage between himself and Wei Ying. He stood up a little straighter, as if realizing he was going to have to be a sect leader and eldest brother in this conversation even this early in the morning. A bittersweetness appeared in the set of his eyebrows. He believed Lan Wangji was being foolishly lovelorn.

In fact Lan Wangji was terrified and this was the only straw within his desperate reach.

“This seems very sudden,” Xichen said. “I know you harbor a deep affection for Wei-gongzi, have perhaps for years, but in recent times he’s held you harshly at a distance.”

“It’s not like that. Xiongzhang, he is vulnerable to Jin-zongzhu.” He was also vulnerable to himself, and to Jiang Wanyin, and to everybody who came within arm’s reach of him, but Lan Wangji could not say any of that.

“Did he request this of you?” Xichen asked, clear eyes sharp.

“We have not discussed it.”

Xichen sighed. He slowly crossed the hanshi – so similar to the jingshi, in its uncluttered elegance, but so different in that it was Xichen’s and Lan Wangji could not imagine Wei Ying within it – and sat down at the table, which bore tea. It must have been delivered before Lan Wangji arrived – no simple feat, since he had risen carefully from the bed and left the jingshi even before the dawn chime sounded.

He hadn’t slept. He had spent the night absorbing the texture of Wei Ying’s hair, its scent, the tide of his breath and its dampness against his chest. The warmth of him. The bright shine of his drowsy eyes when he couldn’t sleep and the peace on his haggard face when he could. The weight of his arm and the affectionate brush of his thumb against Lan Wangji’s spine, comforting even now when he was the one wounded. The shift of his leg between Lan Wangji’s own – completely idle, totally at ease, the two of them sharing one space. There could be nothing more natural in all the world, and nothing more rare and precious.

Lan Wangji had spent the night planning to marry Wei Ying. Now it was morning, so he could try to do it.

Xichen poured himself a cup. “Do you think he would agree? His brother has just ascended as Sect Leader of Yunmeng Jiang. It was difficult to convince him to come to Cloud Recesses even temporarily.”

Lan Wangji shook his head. “I would go to Lotus Pier.”

Xichen paused, tea halfway to his mouth. It had likely never occurred to him Lan Wangji might marry out. It hadn’t occurred to Lan Wangji himself until it was nearly too late.

“Wangji,” Xichen said solemnly, “Why don’t you sit?” He retrieved another cup from the tray and placed it across from him.

Lan Wangji obeyed. He sat and drank, and otherwise said nothing and did nothing. He let Xichen think.

At length, Xichen said, “It would not be disadvantageous.” His words were slow, as if draw through deep water, some thick medium which resisted their passing. “Under Jiang Wanyin, the Jiang sect has emerged vibrant from the ashes of their defeat. Wei Wuxian is a formidable figure, weakened only by his instability and Jiang-zongzhu’s youth and insecurity, which Jin Guangshan uses to undermine them both.” He paused. Then, “The Lan sect would benefit from their alliance, and the Jiang sect would benefit from the aura of the Lan sect’s venerable reputation.”

Lan Wangji’s hand clenched involuntarily around the teacup. “You will allow it?”

“Wangji … I sense you are doing this because feel you would be protecting Wei-gongzi, but I must ask you to also consider yourself. You have your own life. This is too much of yourself to give solely on his behalf.”

“No.” Lan Wangji didn’t know how to put what he felt into words. “Xiongzhang. Who else but Wei Ying?”

He worried that wouldn’t be clear enough, didn’t know how to convey that he would not be giving anything, that it was Wei Ying whose hand would be forced and he who would be going with his whole heart – but a very soft expression settled over Xichen’s face. “Ah, Wangji. Please understand it’s hard for me to grapple with the idea of parting from my dear younger brother. If this is what you yourself want, I would never stand in your way.”

Lan Wangji felt so pleased and relieved he might perhaps have smiled.

Xichen certainly smiled back at him, though it was touched with bemusement. “It’s a little early for that, don’t you think? There are a number of other people whose agreement we must secure.”

We. Lan Wangji did not know what he could have done in his past lives to deserve an older brother like Xichen.

“Who will you approach first?” Xichen continued. “Wei-gongzi, or Shufu?”

Wangji had considered that. There had never been any question Lan Wangji would start with Xichen, but having received his blessing: “If Wei Ying is not willing, there is no need to involve Shufu.”

Xichen nodded his agreement. “Additionally, if Shufu is to be convinced, I think Wei-gongzi will need to give an account.” At even the mention of that, Xichen sighed.

Lan Wangji could not argue with his dismay. Shufu would be nearly impossible to sway, considering his opinion of Wei Ying to start and Wei Ying’s new cultivation besides. It did not matter. Lan Wangji would try. Lan Wangji would succeed. If Wei Ying was willing, how could Lan Wangji do anything but marry him?

If Wei Ying was willing.

When Lan Wangji returned to the jingshi after accompanying Xichen during his breakfast, he found Wei Ying awake, sitting bleary and alone at the table, eating breakfast himself. The servants must have come at Lan Wangji’s usual time. For a brief moment he was angry at them, for waking Wei Ying when he’d been sleeping. But that was not fair. He was unhappier with himself, for leaving Wei Ying alone. It had been necessary, to initiate the motion of this necessary thing, but he had not intended for Wei Ying to wake up with the bed empty beside him.

“Have they made you start rising even earlier now?” Wei Ying said, before yawning around his porridge. “The Lan schedule is truly merciless.”

Lan Wangji made himself sit across from him as if nothing were different. In truth, nothing was different. Not yet. “I apologize. There was a matter that could not wait.”

“You know, you can go off and do things even though I’m here, Lan Zhan. I realize I am in quite a pitiful state, but I will be able to survive for brief periods without your kind and tender care. Not that I’m at all complaining.” Wei Ying looked up at him and smiled, playful and warm despite everything. Lan Wangji wanted to marry him.

Instead he served himself his morning meal and ate it in silence. Never before had the rule against speaking during meals felt so constraining. Perhaps he should be grateful. Without it, he might have asked him over tea and congee.

“Will you go back to sleep?” was what Lan Wangji did in fact ask Wei Ying, when they were through. He would not beleaguer Wei Ying due to his own fervor.

Wei Ying sat back with one of his knees canted up. Improper, but lively. “No, no. Maybe this way I’ll be able to sleep better tonight.” His tone held a little skepticism, but he smiled. He was smiling much more now than he had when he’d arrived, just the night before last. It could have been an affectation, but even so it meant he felt comfortable and strong enough to pretend. “What will we do today? Shall we go back and see the bunnies? If you have work in the Library Pavilion, I could come with you and pretend to copy lines.” His smile turned mischievous for an all-too-brief beat.

“We will go to the cold springs.” Lan Wangji felt hot, too hot. Agitated. Perhaps the water would give him clarity. He needed to get this right. This was the most important question he would ever ask.

And that was the place he had wound his headband around Wei Ying’s wrist – where he had first, barely even knowing or comprehending it, declared to the universe they were one another’s. He’d often wondered if that memory stood out to Wei Ying as well.

Wei Ying ran a hand through his hair, smiling in chagrin. “I guess I could use a wash, ah, Lan Zhan?”

That was not what Lan Wangji had meant – Wei Ying was not noticeably unclean – but if it made him comply, Lan Wangji would not argue.

///

Wei Wuxian was hardly in any position to talk, but Lan Zhan was acting strangely.

More strangely than the magnetic closeness and the constant possessive touch. That was actually all very delightful, and Lan Zhan was still doing it – but now he also seemed distracted. It was a little hard to tell with someone who neglected to react to things as often as Lan Zhan, but Wei Wuxian knew him very well. He was needing even longer than normal to think and speak, and he was taking Wei Wuxian’s teasing – ah, Lan Zhan, I’m going to wash my ankles now, don’t look! – with a dazed silence, instead of his more usual pointed unamusement or even the dry-tinder outrage that had been so easy to kindle when they were younger.

Lan Zhan ended up coaxing them to sit very close to each other in the therapeutic cold water, inner robes plastered to their skin. Lan Zhan’s eyes kept flitting between the forest across the pond and Wei Wuxian’s face. Wei Wuxian would to need to go off on his own to wash his hair and scrub his body at some point – preferably soon, before he froze to death – and it didn’t seem as though Lan Zhan was going to give him an opening.

“Do you have something on your mind, Lan Zhan?” He nudged his shoulder. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. If you need to be taking care of some other business, whatever you were doing this morning, just say so. Or if you’re already regretting the two weeks, that’s fine as well. I’m nothing but a humble guest in your home, and you and Zewu Jun have already been unbelievably kind. You’ve helped me a great deal.” And that was true – Wei Wuxian felt better today. Lighter, freer. If he reached for them, he could detect that tension and anguish and despair right around the corner, waiting for him, but as long as he didn’t look directly at them, he was able to pretend they weren’t there.

He would have no choice but to look at them when he went back. But right now he was carefully ignoring the whole snarl. That was a problem for a future Wei Wuxian.

Lan Zhan’s mind was very far away. Then he was right here, and then he was facing Wei Wuxian and clasping both of his pruny hands in his strong, skillful own.

“Wei Ying,” he said, and then he didn’t continue. His expression was a little frantic.

“It’s okay, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian said, because whatever it was, it would be – or at least, he’d do his best to make it that way. “You can take your time.”

Lan Zhan did – he took a breath. He took his time. When he spoke, it was quietly, and he said, “Wei Ying, would you let me marry you?”

At first Wei Wuxian couldn’t even make sense of his meaning. Marriage was a concept he had really never applied to himself, if he were honest. He had to go through the sentence word-by-word like a young schoolchild. Once he had and he understood it, his heart dropped into a yawning endless void.

“Lan Zhan,” he said, toneless even to his own ears, “you don’t have to do that.”

“No.” Lan Zhan squeezed his hands like a vice, unyielding when he tried to pull away. “There’s no ‘have to’. I want to marry you. To be married to you.”

“But.” His voice came out tight and cracked, but he couldn’t help it. “How can I let you do that? How can Hanguang Jun marry me?” Demonic cultivator, master of wicked tricks. Tainted with resentment. Without a golden core. Ruined.

“I would ask for nothing more in all my life,” Lan Zhan said, as if that were a reasonable response. “Whatever the form, I would be content if you were. If you would not be, if you are unwilling … I understand. I will find another way.”

“What do you mean, whatever the form?” Wei Wuxian didn’t quite understand what he was talking about, but for some reason he really didn’t like the sound of it. It sounded like deprivation, resignation, sacrifice, and Wei Wuxian would never want that for Lan Zhan. “What do you mean, you’d be content?”

“I understand if you do not feel as I do.”

Wei Wuxian’s ears were ringing. “Feel?” Lan Zhan’s declaration, I would ask for nothing more in all my life, was playing over and over in mind, along with the rabbits in his lap and the tears in Lan Zhan’s eyes when Wei Wuxian asked him to play Cleansing for him, and Lan Zhan’s gentle fingers in his hair last night, and his desperate insistence Wei Wuxian come back to Gusu, and the tender kiss he had planted against Wei Wuxian’s lips when he tried to tell him he didn’t have to help him – all those myriad pieces that actually, when he thought about them for even a fraction of a second, made up one monolithic, all-encompassing whole.

Wei Wuxian gaped, and then he tried to hit him, though his hands were pinned and he was unable to. “Lan Zhan! Did you just say you’d marry me even if I didn’t love you back? That’s terrible. How could I tolerate that?”

“It would not affect my intention. I would do it gladly, if it would protect you.”

“Well, I wouldn’t.” He tugged at his hands, and Lan Zhan still held them. “How am I supposed to embrace you, Lan Zhan, if you keep me trapped like this?”

His hands were freed instantly, and then he was being dragged close. Wei Wuxian threw his own arms around Lan Zhan’s shoulders, clutching at him tightly – they were a tangle of cold water, wet heavy clothes, and hot skin. Lan Zhan eventually pulled him fully into his lap and held him there. Wei Wuxian gladly held him back, let himself relax in the hold of this ridiculous person.

“I do,” Wei Wuxian said into half-damp hair. “Feel the way you do.” Maybe it was shallow to love someone who’d been so good to him, especially when he’d so often been harsh or annoying in return, but he did. There was no use not saying it. “But I don’t know if I can let us get married.”

Lan Zhan’s grip clenched ever tighter. “Why not?”

Why not? Wei Wuxian was choking on the reason, drowning in it. Was Lan Zhan really going to make him say it? He forced himself to laugh. “How shall I order the list? Lan Zhan, I’m me.”

“And?”

“I’m a demon, for one. And parentless, a hanger-on to the Jiang sect, merely Jiang Cheng’s faithful subordinate. Not to mention my small lack …” He drew one hand almost reflexively down to press against the void of his core. Lan Zhan’s hand was right there to cover it. “And you’re Hanguang Jun.” He gripped that hand instead. ��One of the Twin Jades of Lan. The most powerful cultivator alive today, in possession of a sterling reputation. It strikes me as too poor a match.”

“You are more powerful than I, with your tools. The Jiang sect is formidable because you are its head disciple. It may be a poor match, as I am only a second son and can offer no heir or political friendships – but I ask that you give me an opportunity to convince you. My spiritual power would be yours, and my sword, so you could keep yourself from the needless fray. My family’s influence …”

“Your family would never agree to me,” Wei Wuxian said, the words striking him hard in the chest for some reason. “Not even if the sun toppled from the heavens and the sea flooded the earth.”

“Xiongzhang has already given his blessing,” Lan Zhan said.

Wei Wuxian pushed himself away so he could look at him, hardly able to believe it. “Is that what you were doing this morning? Before the curfew was even lifted?”

Lan Zhan nodded.

Wei Wuxian felt tears prickling in his eyes. He curled his hands around Lan Zhan’s damp-robed shoulders.

“Wei Ying, do not deflect. Would like to marry me and have me join you in all things for the rest of your life?”

Wei Wuxian was well on his way to crying now, his breaths hitched and unsteady. “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan. Of course. But …”

Lan Zhan’s hands squeezed viciously. “No ‘but’. Do not think of the obstacles. We will take them together, always. On the same path, without regret. Will you agree?”

“Lan Zhan … you’re too much, you’re not real.” Wei Wuxian put a shaking hand to Lan Zhan’s cheek. “You can’t want to marry me.”

“I judge for myself, and I do.” Lan Zhan mirrored the gesture, carefully moving a strand of hair out of Wei Wuxian’s eyes. “Wei Ying, will you?”

“Lan Zhan!” Lan Zhan had gone mad – that was the only explanation. But Wei Wuxian was not in the best condition himself, and he had no more will to continue fighting, not when he so desperately wanted to give in. “Yes, I will.”

Then they were hugging again, harder than before. Wei Wuxian could barely feel his arms and legs, and he didn’t know that it had much to do with the cold water.

It seemed impossible to imagine. He and Lan Zhan, married. Lan Zhan, who knew his mind, and his secret, and his dreams, who spoke to him when he spoke to nobody and who was righteous and good and whose company he could never tire of keeping. If they got married, Wei Wuxian would never again be asked to choose against him. They would never be required to keep apart. Lan Zhan seemed too calm, but maybe he’d just had more time to get used to it. Wei Wuxian would himself, before long.

For now, he lay his head on Lan Zhan’s shoulder and wept, because Lan Zhan had been cut by him at his most hostile, and seen him at his most bruised, and felt the hollowed-out edges of his vacated power, and still somehow wanted him anyway.

///

It was barely late morning when Lan Xichen received a note from Wangji. It simply read, He is willing.

In the privacy of his own thoughts, Lan Xichen would admit that a small corner of his heart sank. He had always been in favor of Wangji’s relationship with the lively – if unorthodox – Wei-gongzi, but his recent changes had complicated things; Wei Wuxian’s willingness meant either Wangji would leave their home and face Wei Wuxian’s many challenges, or he would be heartbroken when this unlikely betrothal proved impossible to negotiate.

And despite having given the matter some thought, Lan Xichen really could not imagine how Shufu could be convinced.

Still, they would try, so he went to the jingshi to discuss next steps. He found them sitting on the floor in front of the bed: hair damp, Wangji’s headband wound around both their wrists, fingers tangled together, dressed in white inner robes out of Wangji’s wardrobe – looking in all ways a paired set. Wei Wuxian seemed dazed and had obviously been crying, and the open awe with which he was gazing at Wangji went a long way toward mollifying Lan Xichen’s reservations about his reciprocation. Wangji himself looked more beatifically happy than Lan Xichen had ever seen him.

If only Shufu could see this, perhaps he would relent.

“Can we speak with Shufu after lunch?” Wangji asked. Wei Wuxian winced a little, but otherwise did not protest.

“So soon?” Lan Xichen would think Wangji might want to enjoy this for at least short time. “Have you considered how you will approach the meeting?”

“We will ask him. What else can we do?”

Lan Xichen tried not to let his heart feel heavy. Not yet, when, in all current respects, Wangji had precisely what he wanted.

And if Shufu was to be worn down, Lan Xichen imagined it would be very much like water wearing down a stone, which meant it would be good to start now.

First, though: “Don’t you think your prospective husband should ask me for your hand himself at some point?”

Wei Wuxian startled immediately, scrambling to his knees. He was tethered to Wangji, so Lan Xichen went over to them, allowing Wei Wuxian to address him without requiring them to part. His hair was slightly bedraggled from being wet – apparently they had gone to the springs – but his expressive face was solemn as he clasped his hands in front of himself with great formality and said. “Zewu Jun, this humble cultivator seeks a betrothal with your younger brother, Lan Wangji.”

“The head of my family is my shufu, and you will need to ask his permission. If he gives it, I will agree to the betrothal.”

“Thank you, Zewu Jun,” Wei Wuxian murmured, bowing a lot lower than he needed to, considering Lan Xichen had already acquiesced. “For this and every other thing.”

“For this, you have no need to thank me, Wei-gongzi. There are few things I would not do in service of my brother’s wellbeing. You will certainly remember that?”

Perhaps Lan Xichen was mistaken, but he thought he saw Wei Wuxian’s life flash before his eyes as he nodded. “Of course, Zewu Jun.”

“Xiongzhang,” Wangji said woundedly.

“I will call for lunch,” Lan Xichen said, instead of deigning to justify himself, “and you will both need to get fully dressed. Shufu has no afternoon classes today, so I will set an appointment with him in two hours’ time.

/

When they met him before the path to Shufu’s residence, they were groomed meticulously; Lan Xichen had expected no less. Wangji now wore an elegant white outer robe, and the headband had been returned to his forehead – almost a shame, but likely a wise choice. Wei Wuxian had redressed in his own attire, black with vibrant flashes of red, hair smooth and high, that dark dizi at his waist. Suibian was nowhere to be seen.

On the one hand, he might have considered at least giving the impression he intended to rejoin the sword path for this meeting’s sake – not that Lan Xichen generally condoned lying. On the other, if even the task of securing a betrothal to Wangji – which Lan Xichen did believe he wanted – would not convince him to carry it, Wangji had been astute to suggest they stop trying.

Wangji knew he was intractable on the matter and wanted this marriage regardless. Lan Xichen would simply have to hope he was making the right decision for the long term.

Shufu kept his eyes on the document in front of him as they entered the residence, but Lan Xichen was not certain he was reading it. He rather seemed to carefully track their movements – Lan Xichen to the side, present primarily to offer visible support, and Wangji and Wei Wuxian to kneel in front of him, one beside the other. Shufu abandoned any pretense of reading, instead staring witheringly at one of them in particular.

“Generally my nephews do not set appointments to see me for casual matters,” Shufu said. “And generally my guests come by invitation.”

An invitation Wei Wuxian had certainly not received in the few days he had been at Cloud Recesses. This was primarily because Shufu had been informed he was recovering from an illness, but Shufu’s point – that Wei Wuxian was certainly not his guest – was difficult to miss.

Wei Wuxian took a visibly took a slow breath. “That’s because this is not a casual matter, Lan-xiansheng.” He clasped his hands and bowed pristinely. “Lan-xiansheng, this humble cultivator seeks a betrothal to your nephew, Lan Wangji.”

“On whose behalf?”

Wei Wuxian’s brows furrowed. Clearly he was not expecting to have been misunderstood. “My own, Xiansheng. I, Wei Wuxian, seek to take Lan Wangji as my husband.”

The silence that occupied the residence seemed to have an energy of its own, washing any potential sound away with the force of its current.

“Get out,” Shufu said, and it was painful to watch Wangji’s downcast face flinch. “The depth of your malintent. Get out.”

“No, Xiansheng,” Wei Wuxian said firmly, still bowed. “My inquiry is serious, and I would state my case.”

“Such inquiry could never be serious.” Shufu’s face quivered with his anger. “You will never wed Wangji. Get out.”

“My parents were Wei Changse, a lifelong friend and servant of Jiang Sect Leader Jiang Fengmian, and Cangse Sanren, a disciple of Baoshan Sanren,” Wei Wuxian recited, undeterred. “After their deaths, I was raised under the care of Jiang-zongzhu and Zi Zhizhu. I am the number one disciple of the Yunmeng Jiang sect, shixiong and right hand to Sect Leader Jiang Wanyin.” He paused, then forged onward. “I am the cultivator who subdued Wen Ruohan’s puppets at Nightless City. With Jiang Wanyin, I brought justice against Wen Chao and the Core-Melting Hand.”

“Are you also the phantom who used wild resentful energy to slaughter the entire complement at Yiling Supervisory Office and every Wen soldier you encountered on your path thereafter?”

“I am,” Wei Wuxian answered immediately, and a shiver ran down Lan Xichen’s spine at the cold light that settled in Wei Wuxian’s eyes. “I am the master of Chenqing and the Yin Tiger Amulet. If your nephew is at my side, he will never need to be afraid of anything.”

Shufu narrowed his eyes. “Except you.”

Wei Wuxian shook his head, venomously slow. “Even if your nephew had his sword at my throat, he would never need to be afraid of me.”

Lan Xichen wondered if that was true. He believed Wei Wuxian believed it was, and prayed he was correct.

More urgently, the hostility in the air had grown as thick as fog. Lan Xichen tried to cut through it. “Undoubtedly Wei-gongzi is a talented and innovative cultivator, irrespective of his methods.”

“His use of resentful energy is a perversion of cultivation, and he is hazardous to everyone around him.”

“Xiongzhang and I would have been killed by Wen Ruohan’s puppets,” Wangji said softly – the first words he’d spoken. His hand landed on Wei Wuxian’s arm in restraint. “Sunshot would have ended in catastrophe.”

Shufu’s bearded mouth turned down, as if when chewing on that thought, he found it against his taste. “Perhaps. That does not mean I will ever allow you to marry him.”

“Shufu.”

“No.”

“Shufu, please. I will be able to help him.”

“No! Have you learned nothing of the lessons of your father’s mistakes? You cannot shield someone from the consequences of their actions!”

“Shufu, with every respect, I do not follow the same path. Please let me go out and stand with Wei Ying, so that we may live all our lives rightly together. To root out evil, help the weak, and live without shame or regrets.”

Wangji and Wei Wuxian knelt side-by-side, heads bowed; so severe, so earnest. Their feelings were true, and the circumstances were reasonably favorable. If it were any other person but Shufu, any other supplicant but Wei Wuxian, there would be little difficulty. As it was …

“Wangji, you will be better off without him,” Shufu intoned.

“Shufu,” Wangji said, so mournfully Lan Xichen had to close his eyes against it.

“Shufu,” he said, so suddenly it surprised even him. But he the next words came to his lips. “I am not so certain.”

He had not come here to argue against Shufu’s judgement. He had intended to let the water wear down the stone. But … but his brother was truly in love, and he truly loved his brother.

Through the silence, eventually that gruff voice came. “Wangji.”

“Shufu?”

“He is rude and irreverent, erratic and unconstrained. His mind crawls with wicked ideas, and his body is brimming with resentful energy. Is this what you wish to tie yourself to, now and forever, before all your ancestors?”

“Yes, shufu.”

“He is stained in the eyes of the cultivation world, through his own doing, and joined to him you might find your own reputation dragged through the same mud. You would have that?”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian said quietly.

“Yes, shufu.”

“Among all the people of the world, you somehow prefer him? Do you not see that in time, you could come to prefer another?”

“Among all people, there is only one Wei Ying.”

Shufu let out a long, grumbling sigh. “Very well, then.”

Lan Xichen opened his eyes to look – and the wide shock on Wangji’s and Wei Wuxian’s faces matched his own enough that he couldn’t have been mistaken.

“If being deprived of marrying him would break your heart, Wangji, how could I rip this from you?”

“It would,” Wangji croaked.

“So it would seem,” Shufu said, not bothering to hide his distaste, “as my other nephew has not hesitated to point out.”

Lan Xichen wasn’t certain whether he ought to truly feel abashed, but Shufu managed it regardless.

“Wei Wuxian, for Wangji’s sake alone, I will allow him to be betrothed to you.”

“Shufu,” Wangji said fervently, clasping his hands and bowing. “Thank you.” Wei Wuxian did the same barely a heartbeat behind him.

“If he should come to harm in your care, there isn’t enough resentful energy in the world to shelter you.”

“Of course, of course, it will never come to that,” Wei Wuxian rattled off. “I will protect him and care for him, Xiansheng.”

“And I him,” Wangji vowed.

Shufu looked much less impassioned by that.

“With this agreement sorted out,” Lan Xichen interjected, still a little chagrinned, “we can go to Lotus Pier when the two of you are ready, to negotiate the betrothal with Jiang-zongzhu.”

“We should go tonight, or tomorrow,” Wangji said. Then, as if suddenly possessed by an idea, “We should pour the tea now, and bow at the ancestral shrine. So we will not have to return to Cloud Recesses after securing Jiang-zongzhu’s approval.”

Lan Xichen was obviously going to object, but Wei Wuxian did so even faster. “Lan Zhan, we can’t do that,” he said under his breath – though in the enclosed residence, it was audible to everyone. “This is a real wedding, your wedding, you shouldn’t … We should do it right. It should be good and nice.”

“It will be good for us to be married. The rest is irrelevant. There is no reason to delay.”

“Come on, Lan Zhan, how can we do the ceremony yet? I don’t even have a betrothal gift, or a spouse price.” Wei Wuxian sniffled. “Jiang Cheng … well, he’s going to be furious, but he’d be even more furious that way. Let’s wait, and I’ll convince him to make it nice. You’re worthy. It would be terrible to give them after the wedding’s half done.”

“Give me whatever you like. It doesn’t matter,” Wangji said.

Or perhaps, You gave me Suibian, did you not?

Lan Xichen wondered if that second meaning was a figment of his imagination – but Wei Wuxian’s eyes were shining brightly, so perhaps not. “Lan Zhan … What if he really refuses? What if it doesn’t work out? We’d be stuck half-married.”

“You would not be stuck – it will only be my ancestors before whom we have bowed, my family for whom we have poured tea. If negotiations dissolve it will only be I who is bound to you.”

Wangji’s voice calm and sure, but his meaning was wild with devotion. Lan Xichen didn’t know quite what to say – and exchanging a glance with Shufu, whose eyebrows had risen quite high, he appeared to feel the same way.

Wei Wuxian had covered his mouth with both hands, as if to physically contain whatever thought or emotion wanted to come out, and still he tipped over and spilled down a waterfall of tears. The formidable Wei Wuxian, master of Chenqing and the Yin Tiger Amulet, who had cast a terrifying shadow a mere minute before, disintegrated into emotion – his thin shell splintering to reveal a ravaged terrain underneath. “Lan Zhan. You’re really too much to bear.”

He shuffled around on his knees and bowed all the way to the floor facing Wangji.

Wangji moved instantly, urgently tugging him upright. He held Wei Wuxian by both arms, and Wei Wuxian reflexively mirrored him. Wangji stared firmly into his eyes. “Wei Ying. We will do this together.”

Wei Wuxian was entirely in pieces, trembling, tears dripping down his face. He nodded, and he clung to Wangji so tightly his hands disappeared in his bunched robes.

Shufu was looking at Lan Xichen, brows furrowed, but he said nothing. He was deferring to Lan Xichen to make this judgement. Shufu did not, after all, know the details behind Wei Wuxian’s coming to Cloud Recesses in the first place.

Lan Xichen knew there were layers to this situation beyond his reach, but he understood Wangji was saving Wei Wuxian’s life with this marriage. To hold Wangji’s portion of the ceremony without having solidified the betrothal was very irregular and might give insult to Jiang-zongzhu – but considering the circumstances, he would allow it if they felt it necessary. “I urge you to consider carefully the feelings of Wei-gongzi’s family, and the importance of cherishing this event in both your lives – but if you are determined, we can hold a ceremony this evening.”

“We can call for tea now,” Wangji said stubbornly.

“Wangji, with a few hours we can at least find you both something to wear. You will have an opportunity to prepare your mind, and so will we.”

“Lan Zhan, it’s all right, this evening is more than all right,” Wei Wuxian urged. “Don’t rush your family, really, it’s already bad enough.”

“Indeed,” Shufu said, causing all three of them to tense. “I was expecting you would have several months to reconsider this madness. At least let me retain hope until nightfall.”

Wangji looked nearly petulant, but Wei Wuxian actually laughed – a short, startled sound. Lan Xichen smiled despite himself. “Remember, Wangji, this is Wei-gongzi’s wedding as well as yours. Allow us make it as beautiful as we can in the time available.”

That, unsurprisingly, was what convinced Wangji to relent.

///

It was beyond unorthodox for the two betrothed to help one another prepare, but Lan Wangji savored doing so.

When they got back to the jingshi after the meeting with Shufu, Wei Ying seemed weary and strung tight, so Lan Wangji said, “Let's sleep.” In this way he got Wei Ying to rest for an hour within the circle of his arms. He woke him by gliding his thumb over the skin of his cheek.

After that, Xichen came with an assortment of clothes that were all reasonably suitable to choose from, and a message. “Shufu would like some time alone with you, Wangji.”

This was probably not unreasonable, considering Lan Wangji was going to get married and leave Cloud Recesses. Shufu had raised Lan Wangji, so even though he suspected it would be an attempt to dissuade him, he went.

He was pleasantly surprised. Shufu did not in any seriousness try to convince him to abandon his marriage to Wei Ying. Instead, he lectured and read passages, giving Lan Wangji one final lesson. He told him about patience and honor, and duty, and trust, and unsurprisingly about what is right and wrong, and surprisingly about love. Lan Wangji listened to understand his wisdom, and to receive the care contained in his providing it.

It was not long – maybe three quarters of an hour. Lan Wangji left the residence feeling prepared, and anticipatory, and at peace.

In the jingshi, Wei Ying was at the desk scowling intently at a sheet of paper covered in unorganized crossed-out notes. He looked up when Lan Wangji entered, and after a moment his face smoothed. He lay the brush aside and folded the paper over, certainly smudging any ink that might not yet have been dry.

“You can finish your work,” Lan Wangji told him.

Wei Ying shook his head, taking the paper with him and crossing the jingshi. “I was trying to write something, but I think … it’s not necessary.” He tucked the paper into his robe, and his gaze drifted over to the mound of red fabric on the bed.

“Did you find something you liked?” Lan Wangji asked. He still had to select something himself.

“I thought … since they aren’t personal anyway, maybe we want to match.”

There were two loose wide-sleeved robes laid to one side, crisp red silk with the thinnest glimmering gold embroidery. Lan Wangji felt a smile pull at his lips and Wei Ying’s fingerprints dance over the back of his shoulder blade. “Yes.” He would have done what Wei Ying wanted regardless, but he liked what he’d designed.

They dressed one other, beginning with simple white fitted robes. Lan Wangji’s clothes fit Wei Ying well enough for this purpose, since there would be another layer on the outside. Lan Wangji closed the robe around Wei Ying’s torso and tied the stays, fingers pressed right up against the solid heat of his body. Wei Ying mirrored this procedure. Then they fixed one another’s hair. Lan Wangji combed until Wei Ying’s hair was as soft as silk itself, and then pulled it up and into a gold circular hairpiece. When it was his turn, he lost himself in the steady ministrations of Wei Ying’s hands, until Wei Ying was finished and Lan Wangji’s hair was adorned with arcing gold spires.

They ate dinner – or at least, Lan Wangji made an attempt. He wanted something, to be sure, but it was different and it would be his very soon – just a few short hours and a single pot of tea, one journey to Yunmeng, one conversation with Jiang Wanyin. Maybe a day or so after. What need did he have for food, in the face of that? He forced himself to take bites regardless. He had to maintain his strength.

Wei Ying devoured his meal, and then he had to step outside into the blue dusk to retch.

Lan Wangji soothed his hair back, put supportive hands on his waist and under his arm. He was trembling from it, and still too thin, and his eyes were red and bruised from crying and now this. It hit Lan Wangji very fiercely that he didn’t have the warm golden suspension that ran through his own veins. Wei Ying had already been tired and unwell, and Lan Wangji had already demanded several things of him that day. “Are you ill? We can delay.”

“No!” Wei Ying gripped Lan Wangji’s arm with ferocious strength. Ill or well, Wei Ying would keep fighting on any battlefield until his body gave out beneath him. Wei Ying’s other hand traced the line of his collar, brushed his lip, hovered to his headpiece. “No. Not unless you want to wait. If you want more time to think, or …”

“No.”

“Then no. I’m just nervous. Anxious, I mean, excited. I’m about to marry Hanguang Jun, Lan Wangji, Lan Zhan. Who wouldn’t be?”

Lan Wangji didn’t answer him. The question was rhetorical. Only Wei Ying would ever know. He held him for a moment, slid his arms around the back of his waist to support him and press them together. Wei Ying’s face was tired, but he seemed soft and happy. “It will not take long,” Lan Wangji promised him. “Then we will rest.”

They went back inside. Wei Ying cleaned his mouth and teeth with fennel powder, and ate some orange slices to give himself a pleasant taste. He playfully demanded to feed several to Lan Wangji as well – “after all, we’re trying to match” – and Lan Wangji was emboldened by the knowledge Wei Ying was going to marry him, so instead of ignoring him, which was all he had ever known how to do, he knelt beside him and parted his lips obediently. Wei Ying’s eyes were wide and dark, and there was a rosy flush to his cheeks that had nothing to do with fever or illness when he placed the sweet fruit in Lan Wangji’s mouth.

The acid tingling of the juice spread much farther through Lan Wangji’s body than it should have from just the touch of it on his tongue.

It was nearly time, though. They had to finish their preparations.

Lan Wangji took one of the red robes off the bed. It was light – the silk would fall elegantly. Wei Ying turned his back, and Lan Wangji draped it over his shoulders. Wei Ying turned, lifting one hand to pull his hair out from beneath the robe, and suddenly, between the golden hairpiece and the crimson robe and the light in Wei Ying’s eyes, he looked like he was getting married. He looked like they were getting married.

Lan Wangji grasped Wei Ying by the arms. He felt … something, and he needed … something more.

“Wait, wait, Lan Zhan, let me get you in yours first,” Wei Ying said softly. “It’s not fair otherwise.”

Lan Wangji, very reluctantly, had to admit that was true.

He allowed Wei Ying to pull the robe over his shoulders, and then to carefully smooth and straighten the parallel lines of it down his chest. Lan Wangji used the opportunity to look at him. Wei Ying made a stunning groom in their improvised clothes. He would have in rags. Lan Wangji would never allow that, would face blades and arrows to prevent it.

“Don’t worry, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying said, running his hands down his arms, cupping his hands up beneath his jaw. “Jiang Cheng will say yes – I will do whatever it takes to convince him. You will come to Lotus Pier and have a home there, and I will take very good care of you as my husband.” His fingers tightened behind Lan Wangji’s neck, as if to reinforce the oath. “I don’t have quite as much money as the very illustrious Lan sect … in fact, I don’t really have any money of my own … but …”

Lan Wangji had somewhat forgotten he was the one marrying into Wei Ying’s household. “My brother will pay a generous dowry,” he assured him. “And he will continue to give me anything we need.”

“Ah, so will my brother!” Wei Ying objected. “Well, somewhat. And he will certainly be less pleasant about it …”

“I am not concerned,” Lan Wangji said. As long as he was at Wei Ying’s side, further luxuries were optional.

“But I have to keep you in fine robes, Lan Zhan. Rest assured, the Second Jade of Lan will still glow under my keeping.”

Lan Wangji had no doubt of that.

Wei Ying wrapped his arms around Lan Wangji beneath the red outer robe. In this way, pulled close, he brushed a ghost-light kiss to the corner of Lan Wangji’s mouth. He’d pulled away before Lan Wangji could turn to return it. “I will also protect you, like I told your uncle. I will have to cause a little less trouble with the other cultivators, I suppose, and I will let you handle the regular things with your sword. But if anyone should really try to harm you …” A little of that menacing light gleamed in Wei Ying’s eye. “I will not let it stand. You know that, don’t you, Lan Zhan?”

He did, and it was torturous. Lan Wangji did not ever want Wei Ying to hurt himself on his behalf. But it would be hypocritical, he supposed, to try to deny him, when he himself would do the same. Additionally, as a purely academic thought, Wei Ying commanding his dark, wild power for Lan Wangji was not – strictly – unappealing. “Only when truly necessary,” Lan Wangji said. He wondered if Wei Ying knew it was a plea. “Only when there is no other choice.”

“Lan Zhan, I will let you play your guqin for me all night long afterward,” Wei Ying replied, which was not even remotely a direct agreement – but his voice was teasing, and they would be married any minute, any second, so Lan Wangji let it go. He would have a lifetime to prevail in this quarrel. He was about to make the vows to ensure it. Even if Jiang Wanyin refused them, even if the world ended that very night, they could never be wholly unconnected from one another. Lan Wangji would be Wei Ying’s.

There was sound at the door – Xichen had appeared. He wore a formal dark blue robe and there was a smile on his face as he regarded them. “You both look very fine. I’ll be back for you in just a few minutes, Wei-gongzi. Wangji, are you ready?”

He was.

Xichen led him to the hanshi. The doorway had been draped in crimson, as had the perimeter of the central room. Candles burned along the walls. Shufu was there, seated behind the table, dressed in rich misty brocade, a more elaborate garment than Lan Wangji had seen him wear since he’d handed responsibility for inter-sect affairs to Xichen. The table held a beautiful tea set – deep azure porcelain with a pale blue design and silver gilding. Suitable for Yunmeng Jiang and Gusu Lan, for Wei Ying and Lan Wangji. Suitable to form part of Lan Wangji’s dowry. It was perfect. He couldn’t imagine how Xichen had found it at such short notice.

“Wangji,” Xichen said, making him look up, and Xichen had a red ribbon embroidered with gold clouds suspended in his hands.

Lan Wangji reached up and removed his powder blue one. He held still as Xichen tied the red one around his forehead. It had been years since he had needed help to don his ribbon. It was a strange feeling to have someone else do it now, one that lodged him firmly in this moment.

It was done. A servant brought in hot water, lit the candle beneath it, and departed. “Shall I go get him, Wangji?” Xichen asked. “Or would you like a moment?”

Lan Wangji’s heart flew erratic in his chest. “Go on.”

It felt as though Lan Wangji had no time at all before Xichen returned. He came in alone and took his seat beside Shufu, behind the table Lan Wangji knelt in front of. Then Wei Ying appeared in the doorway.

There followed a century in which Lan Wangji beheld him. Framed by the night garden, red garlands, and candlelight, he looked fine indeed – a brilliant flash of white between rich and auspicious red and gold, tall and elegant, hair fine, hairpiece gleaming. He was here for Lan Wangji. He stepped across the threshold into the hanshi.

“Stop,” Shufu said.

Wei Ying stopped short. Lan Wangji turned to Shufu in betrayal.

Shufu cleared his throat. “Wei Wuxian. Are spirits, demons, ghosts, and monsters the same thing?”

It took Lan Wangji a too-long moment to understand. This was the challenge his family would throw up for Wei Ying, which he had to overcome to reach Lan Wangji. A simple question even a junior disciple could answer. He looked back to Wei Ying, who was smiling. “No. Spirits are formed from living non-human beings. Monsters are formed from dead non-human beings. Ghosts are formed from dead humans.” A wry thread touched his voice. “Demons are formed from living humans.”

“Very good,” Shufu said gruffly. As the silence stretched, Wei Ying took another step forward. “Stop,” Shufu commanded again. “What is the order of measures of cultivation?”

Wei Ying let out a breathy laugh. “There are a number of methods. First, liberation. Second, suppression. Third, elimination.” He paused. “I think sometimes of a fourth method, but I will not bother you with it this evening, Xiansheng.”

Lan Wangji could not help but look at Shufu. There was a small tic in his brow, but he could have expected nothing else, asking that question. After a moment, he pronounced, “Very good.”

Wei Ying advanced one more step.

“Stop.” Shufu raised both eyebrows. “What is the thirteenth Lan principle?”

Wei Ying’s grin widened, sharpened, hardened. “Don’t practice crooked ways.”

Shufu stared at Wei Ying and said nothing. Wei Ying stared at Shufu and said nothing further. Eventually, Shufu jerked his chin upward, and Wei Ying advanced the last few steps and took his place at the table.

Lan Wangji exchanged a harried glance with Xichen. Shufu might easily have been more intransigent, Wei Ying more combative. He wondered why Shufu had brought up Wei Ying’s cultivation style again if he didn’t mean to pursue it. Perhaps he was just making clear his enduring disapproval.

Perhaps the challenge was tolerating his open disdain.

The ceremony did not take long. Wei Ying took the red ribbon from Lan Wangji’s forehead and wound the ends around their wrists. Bound together, they prepared the tea. Wei Ying poured the first cup and offered it to Shufu. “Shugong, please accept this from me.”

Shufu looked briefly to the heavens when Wei Ying referred to him as family, and for one final moment Lan Wangji’s breath stilled – but Shufu grimly acknowledged, “Zhixu,” and accepted the cup. Xichen answered Wei Ying’s appeal with a warm ‘Dixu’, and they exchanged bright smiles.

Lan Wangji’s heart could not have been fuller. He was not properly meant to cry until they departed Cloud Recesses, so he restrained himself, but it was difficult. He poured tea for his family with steady hands.

In truth, they would not be finished until they were wed within the Jiang sect, but for the time being it was enough. After they went to the Lan family shrine and bowed side-by-side before Lan Wangji’s ancestors, Lan Wangji took Wei Ying back to the jingshi and lay him down to rest, just as he’d promised. He gathered Wei Ying to him back to front, so they were pressed together along every inch. Wei Ying laced the fingers of both their hands tight. Lan Wangji tugged him a little bit closer.

Wei Ying slept quickly once he was free to let his exhaustion claim him. Lan Wangji intended to plan his petition to Jiang Wanyin, but he must have been weary himself, because before too long he fell unconscious alongside him.

part four

[dascarecrow]

Death Battle - Oscar Pine

Wiz- Since humanity’s earliest age the world of Remnant has been plagued by the creatures of Grimm. 

Boomstick- AKA a cheap rip off of the Heartless. These bad boys are destruction incarnate which sounds awesome at first but it really just means they live to ruin your day. 

Wiz- Yet for as long as the Grimm have haunted humanity they have been protected by the elite warriors known as Huntsmen. 

Boomstick- These kick ass fighters are the best of the best and the baddest of the bad. They also wield some of the most awesome weapons ever made. Because nearly all of them? Are also a gun. 

Wiz- Huntsmen are trained at combat academies across the world. And the greatest of them are trained at the main academies of each major kingdom. Shade Academy in Vacuo, Haven Academy in Mistral, Atlas Academy in Atlas- 

Boomstick- Real original there. 

Wiz- And Beacon Academy in Vale. 

Boomstick- Man a school where you learn how to beat the snot out of people, hunt evil monsters and build cool weapons? If they had that kind of curriculum when I was in high school I definitely would have paid more attention. At least try to get a B+ on something instead of all those Fs and Cs. 

Wiz- Unknown to the public however is that the headmasters of each Academy are part of a secret alliance dedicated to protecting the people of Remnant and ensuring their prosperity led by the headmaster Beacon Academy, Ozpin. 

Boomstick- And like any good conspiracy the Ozluminati knows a whole bunch of secrets. Like the true origin of Dust and who faked the moon breaking. 

Wiz- One of the greatest secrets that they have kept is existence of magic in Remnant. 

Boomstick- Like actual wave your hand and make stuff happen magic. Which I don’t really get keeping hidden. I mean Huntsmen can do a whole bunch of stuff that’s pretty much magic anyways. And even stuff that magic doesn’t do. So why hide it from people?

Wiz- That’s actually because of the prospective dangers that magic could bring. 

Boomstick- Oh yeah like what? 

*Scenes play of Raven, Penny and Fria using their magic and devastating their enemies* 

Boomstick- Never mind. I’ll take being able to call up hurricanes whenever I want over a scythe that turns into a rifle. 

Wiz- Ozpin led the other headmasters and select other agents in keeping several secrets, including magic, hidden away because he feared the turmoil and destruction that would result if they were ever discovered. 

Boomstick- And it actually went pretty well. Remnant had it’s problems but it was actually looking pretty good. Until some crazy fire lady *a picture of Cinder appears* found out about magic, went “I want me some of that”, teamed up with a terrorist organization and decided to get her hands on the nearest available bit of magic. Which was hidden under Beacon Academy. 

Wiz- Dark forces would attack in the tragedy that would become known as the Fall of Beacon. The school would be devastated, the students harmed and traumatized beyond measure and Ozpin himself would fall during the battle. But this would not be the end for Ozpin. 

Boomstick- Yeah turns out Dumbledore here actually had quite a few secrets of his own. One of which is that he was at this job a lot longer than anyone ever knew. 

Wiz- In ancient times the Gods of Light and Darkness who had created Remnant saw the trials humanity endured to survive with each passing day and sought to give their creation a chance at salvation. They reached into the afterlife and returned to Remnant the greatest warrior to ever walk its surface, a mage knight known as Ozma.  

Boomstick- Of course because Gods are kind of jerks they gave the Wizard of Oz a skewed deal.  

Wiz- The Gods tasked Ozma with uniting humanity together and calling them to return to Remnant so they may pass judgement. Should humanity be in harmony upon their return the Gods would walk alongside them once more and grant to humanity grand gifts as reward. 

Boomstick- Not a bad deal really. Everyone plays all nice and you get some sweet magic powers out of it. Why wouldn’t you want to do that? 

Wiz- But if the Gods returned to find humanity divided and selfishly demanding that which was never theirs then it would be final day Remnant would ever see for humanity would be destroyed. 

Boomstick- Oh right. How is that supposed to work then? I mean the gods come back and they see some guys arguing over their favorite sports team and they just go “Your no good. Gonna kill you all”. I mean I get the appeal of having magic powers but does that really outweigh complete genocide? Huntsmen have their own personal superpowers and Dust is as good as magic anyway.  

Wiz- Regardless Ozma agreed to the gods request, motivated by his sense of justice and belief in the inherent good of humanity. 

Boomstick- And the chance to see his ex again. *Picture of Salem appears* Can’t forget about that. 

Wiz- Indeed. Of course the Gods recognized that the work they tasked Ozma with could take quite some time so they made arrangements which resulted in a rather unusual return for him. 

Boomstick- The Gods kind of have a thing against full blown resurrection so they didn’t just zap their newest employee back to Remnant. No they decided to stuff Ozzy Osbourne’s soul into some random sucker so he could get to work. 

Wiz- The Gods did not wish Ozma to bear the burden of his work alone so they made it that he would return in the body of another, which carried a like minded soul that his own would merge with. In the course of his work Ozma would discover that death was no longer the same for him. 

Boomstick- The Gods basically made him the Avatar. *Shows picture of Aang* Whenever Willy Wonka wound up biting it his soul would crop up again in some other schmuck and merge with whatever soul was already living there. Rinse and repeat for the next few thousand years. 

Wiz- The man known as Ozpin would wind up being the latest in this long line of reincarnations, continuing his past lives work in uniting the people of Remnant so they may pass the Gods Judgement.  

Boomstick- And once Gandalf here was down for the count it was time for another round of musical souls. Where he stops who the heck knows. 

Wiz- Ozpin’s would wind up reincarnating in a young farmhand known as Oscar Pine, who would find himself continuing the work that Ozma had began millennia ago and the inheritor of his countless lives knowledge and power. 

Boomstick- Man I don’t know who to feel worse for. Pinecone for having an old dude stuck in his head that can see all of his private thoughts. Or the Clockwork Wizard for being stuck in the head of a kid that’s just starting puberty.  

Wiz- As a result of this merger of souls Oscar would inherit Ozpin’s memories and more importantly his fighting skill and powers. 

Boomstick- As the headmaster of a school for hunting literal soulless monsters Ozpin knew how to throw down with the best of them and Oscar got everything the old professor knew downloaded straight to his brain, none of that pesky learning stuff the hard way needed. He would even be given Ozpin’s own personal weapon... a cane. A cane. That was seriously this guys weapon? He fights for thousands of years to protect humanity, counter hordes of dark mosters and try to make it so the Gods give Remnant a passing grade and his personal way of beating people up was with a walking stick. Starting to see why it took him so long to get people up to snuff. 

Wiz- Don’t be so quick to judge Boomstick. Ozpin was supremely gifted with his weapon, often using it like a rapier to rapidly jab at enemies and wear them down faster then they could respond. *Scenes of Ozpin’s fight with Cinder* And because he has Ozpin’s memories Oscar can do this just as well. *Scenes of Oscar’s fight with Hazel* However Oscar has chosen to focus on his own fighting style instead of simply repeating Ozpin’s. Oscar’s own personal style has a greater emphasis on striking power than  speed, being centered around strong, focused blows instead of the rapid fire technique Ozpin preferred. 

Boomstick- Finally someone who gets that the best way of doing things is by hitting the crap out of them as hard as possible. And it works pretty well for the farm boy. He was able to one shot a Sabyr, which was about two and a half times his size. And keep in mind Grimm are pretty much all bulk. Oscar pretty much killed that thing by stabbing it with a blunt object. Not to mention that he was able to smack someone so hard that they tumbled down the stairs and made Hazel stagger back a few feet when they collided with him. Hazel, who was able to catch the mini wrecking ball that is Magnhild and was stabbed through his stomach by a giant ice wasp and got back up like it was nothing.  

Wiz- Given the loss of energy that would have resulted from rolling down the steps and Hazel’s own notable durability then we can safely say that Oscar used an extreme amount of force in this one attack. 

Boomstick- And if Alpine gets tired of trying to whack people with a overhyped brake lever than he has some decent hand to hand skill as well. He was able to round a corner, close the distance and punch Neo so hard that she went flying down the hallway, all faster than she could react. And Neo’s whole thing is that she can literally dance around just about anyone like they’re moving in slow motion. Oscar was able to outpace her a few times during their fight and that’s immediately after he’d already taken some bad hits. She’d have done even worse if he’d been starting fresh. Not bad for a farm hand. 

Wiz- Oscar’s impressive performance is probably helped by his Aura. 

Boomstick- You mean that rip off of the force from Pokemon? Wait do Pokemon live on Remnant? Are the Grimm actually Pokemon and they’re what happens when humanity doesn’t learn how to make Pokeballs? Does this mean animal slavery is actually perfectly justified? 

Wiz- No. On all acccounts. 

Boomstick (disappointed)- Aaaaah. 

Aura 

- Grants shielding 

- Empowers strikes 

- Environmental Protection 

- Heightened Awareness 

- Enhances Healing 

Wiz- Aura is the soul made manifest, the user’s essence rendered into tangible form. 

Boomstick- Is that supposed to be arousing or the complete opposite? 

Wiz- Aura grants anyone who possesses it a great many benefits, primarily in terms of defense. Anyone with an active Aura automatically receives a shield that protects them from harm and damage. Oscar was able to take hits from flaming boulders and barely showed any hint that he even felt the attack. 

Boomstick- Wait, wait, wait. You mean that if someone gets this Aura stuff they automatically become invulnerable to being hurt? Wiz I’m calling in three of the favors you owe me to give me some of that stuff. 

Wiz- Aura doesn’t just prevent users from coming to harm though. It can also enhance striking power, be channeled through weaponry to increase it’s power, protect the user from harsh environmental factors like extreme cold, give someone heightened awareness of their surrounding to the point they can detect approaching enemies and even boost one’s healing. 

Boomstick- Alright Wiz I’ll make it seven favors and I’ll use Jocelyn’s credit card the next time I get drunk and come up with an awesome idea. Man thousands of years of of combat experience and a personal force field that increases strength and healing? This kid must kick all sorts of- 

*Montage of Oscar getting attacked by Ruby, Qrow, Jaune, the Hound and ends with him being shot by Ironwood* 

Boomstick- *now depressed* Oh right. Aura kind of sucks. 

Wiz- While Aura is formidable it does have it’s limits. Every blow it takes will cause one’s Aura to wear down and deplete. The stronger the hit the more damage Aura will take from it. And even those gifted with extraordinary amounts can’t maintain it indefinitely. 

Boomstick- Yep. Take it from me folks it doesn’t matter how big the bottle is. If you keep drinking from it, sooner or later you’re going to run out. 

Wiz- And once it’s completely depleted Aura will break, leaving the user vulnerable. 

Boomstick- How the heck does that work? I mean it’s your soul. You always have it. So shouldn’t this Aura stuff always be going? And if it breaks shouldn’t you I don’t know die or something? 

Wiz- To be exact Aura isn’t actually the user’s soul, but rather a type of energy harnessed from it. So it’s depletion and breaking isn’t actually fatal to the user. It also isn’t something that runs automatically. Aura has to be consciously activated and dismissed by the user. So it is possible for someone to be caught off guard because they don’t their Aura running. 

Boomstick- Figures. You find a super cool energy that can give everyone super powers and it turns out to suck eggs. 

Wiz- Well just because your Aura runs out doesn’t mean it’s the end of fight. It does recover over time and trained users can speed up how fast it rebuilds with just a bit of focus and willpower. Oscar’s teammate Jaune has shown the ability to restore his Aura after focusing for a brief moment. And given Ozpin’s countless lifetimes of experience it stands to reason that Oscar has the ability to do this as well.  

Boomstick- And even if Oscar’s Aura does wind up failing him he still has a few tricks up his sleeve. Magic ones. Remember Ozma wasn’t just a highly skilled warrior he was also gifted mage. So his whole conga line of souls also gets cool magic powers. 

Magic 

Controls the elements (fire, ice, wind , lightning, etc.) 

Energy blasts 

Creates shields 

Telekinetic movement 

Wiz- Quite right Boomstick among all the denizens of Remnant, Oscar is one of the rare few gifted with magic in the current age. While the exact abilities Oscar can use are nebulous we can infer some details going by what other magic users have done. He can unleash streams of pure power as an attack. 

Boomstick- And these emerald streamers pack a punch. Salem was able to shrug off Hazel literally splattering her all over the ground and returned the beating without missing a beat. 

Wiz- While Salem can regenerate from any damage done to her she still feels pain and can be hurt, even if the damage is undone. 

Boomstick- Oscar brought her to her knees with one blast of his magic, which also left her in visible pain. So it’s safe to say he hit her way harder than Hazel was able to. And that guy dropped a friggin meteor on top of her. *Shows clip of Hazel doing just that* 

Wiz- We have also seen magic be shaped into different forms so presumably Oscar can do this as well. His past lives have been seen creating fields of magic that can move others in a telekinetic fashion and there’s no reason to believe Oscar can’t still do so in present day, albeit not quite on the scale Ozma was once able to. 

Boomstick- Yeah one of the lives of Doctor Who did something kind of dumb. A bunch of sisters came by his house and were all “hope, joy and love” and he decided to give them almost all of his magic because of good vibes or something. I mean why would you give up actual magic powers that made you such a kick ass knight in the first place?  

Wiz- (annoyed) Anyways... Oscar lacks the reserves of magic power that Ozma once held and while we don’t have an exact measure we’re going to go with about a rate of 5 to 10 percent remaining. Fortunately for Oscar magic doesn’t deplete the way Aura does so he can use it almost without limit. And the power of the Maidens, that is the sisters he gave his magic to, gives us a view of what Oscar can accomplish. Namely the power of the elements 

Elemental Magic 

Fire  

Ice 

Lightning 

Wind 

Plant life 

Boomstick- Most folks on Remnant can do stuff like throw around fireballs or lightning bolts with the use of Dust. But magic lets you do that stuff all on your own and with no limit either. 

Wiz- Mind you Oscar’s lesser reserves mean he can’t do anything on the scale of the Maidens but he does still have the capacity to control the elements, just to a lesser degree than most magic users.  But the greatest asset magic grants Oscar is his shield. 

Boomstick- Don’t let the fact that it looks like a glass bubble fool you, this mystical barrier is actually pretty sturdy. It’s stood up to the full power of the Fall Maiden, allowed Oscar to survive a several miles long fall without any injury whatsoever and is so strong that it let him crash right through the bottom of Atlas and keep on going with no problem. 

Wiz- Actually Boomstick that last feat wasn’t a result of Oscar’s magic. 

Boomstick- Oh? I guess you’re going to tell me that glorified bike handle of his did it. 

Wiz- It did as a matter of fact. 

Boomstick- Wait what? How is that possible? It’s a cane for crying out loud. It’s something old people use for getting around and whupping the young, not the tool of a seasoned warrior and mage. 

Wiz- Oscar’s cane, much like it’s holder, far more than it appears and has quite a few surprises. 

Boomstick- Oh this should be good. 

The Long Memory 

Oscar’s personal weapon 

Once wielded by Ozpin 

Incredibly durable 

Focus for magic 

Stores kinetic energy 

Wiz- Oscar’s weapon, known as the Long Memory, is a collapsible cane that he carries at almost all times. The cane itself is highly durable, able to take hits from a Dust empowered Hazel without any sign of strain or damage. Hazel boasted immense physical strength on his lonesome and the benefit of Dust significantly increased his damage output.  

Boomstick- Okay so it’s a pretty strong cane. But it’s still just a cane. 

Wiz- The Long Memory is also a channel and focus for Oscar’s magic, enabling him to use it on a higher scale than he would be able to on his own merits. 

Boomstick- Oh like a magic wand. 

Wiz- More like a scepter. 

Boomstick- Like a magic staff? 

Wiz- Scepter. 

Boomstick- I get you, it’s like a magic rod. 

Wiz- Boomstick I swear if I have to get the shock collar again... 

Boomstick- Geez calm down Wiz I’m just funning ya. So this walking stick is pretty much a *Wiz glares at Boomstick* “magic scepter” that lets pine tree use magic better than he can by himself. That’s kind of cool actually but why make it something that looks like an emergency brake? 

Wiz- The Long Memory has one more special trick, completely separate from Aura and magic. It can store and carry kinetic energy. 

Boomstick- I’m sorry what kind of energy? 

Wiz- *exasperated* Stuff that make bullets go shoot. 

Boomstick- I know what it is Wiz. No need to get snippy. Man you are so juvenile. Anyways why is that so special? 

Wiz- *trying to be professional* With each passing moment and every blow struck The Long Memory accumulates kinetic energy and having been crafted centuries ago it has quite a reservoir of power to access. Oscar can access this stored up energy whenever he wishes, unleashing bolts and waves sheer power. This allowed him to blast a hole through the bottom of Atlas when he was sent plummeting to his doom in the Vault of the Winter Maiden. 

Boomstick- Huh. Not a bad parlor trick I’ll admit but how much damage can he really do with that thin- 

*Scene of Oscar destroying Monstra plays* 

Boomstick stares in open mouthed shock while Wiz looks on with a smug grin.  

Wiz- You were saying? 

Boomstick- HOLY MOTHERF*BLEEP*ING S*BLEEP*T!  Did that kid just fire off a magic nuke?  

Wiz-To be fair Oscar can’t throw around attacks like that too often. This particular instance used up the majority of stored up power that the Long Memory had available. And that power was gathered across several lifetimes if not centuries. He definitely wouldn’t be able to use an attack on this level repeatedly. He would be able to recover some of the kinetic energy however because the Long Memory gathers and stores it away automatically. Smaller expenditures may not necessarily be reclaimed but the cane would definitely avoid running completely out of power with this aspect of it’s abilities. Anything you’d like to add Boomstick?

Boomstick- *still in shock* I-, Yeah not really, my mind is going to be stuck on that nuke thing for a while. 

Wiz- *shrugging it off* Okay then. Come back in a few days where we’ll cover Oscar’s opponent, Izuku Midoriya. 

[the-navistar-carol]

Marinette Self-Care Songfic: Why Should I Worry? from Oliver & Company

AKA: my fix-it fic to the ML angst and salt plus Chloé redemption

AKA^2: Marinette has run out of fucks to give about the Miracu-class

Note: halfway through writing this, I realized it had more Chlonette than I expected it to have. whatever. mild cursing.

~~~

One minute I'm in Central Park

Then I'm down on Delancey Street

Marinette’s heart was soaring for the first time in weeks. Or had it been months? Either way, she was floating on cloud nine, and couldn’t bring herself to concern herself with the new sob story Lila spun that morning about how she couldn’t possibly take her own tray, God forbid, by herself.

Audrey Bourgeois had taken her designs and was going to put them in her newest fashion show! Her designs and ideas would be put on TV, for people across the world!!

She practically skipped downstairs, giddy.

From the Bowery to St Mark’s

There's a syncopated beat

She was up early, much to her parent’s welcome surprise, and bouncing off the walls as her amused Maman handed her a fresh croissant.

The Adrien pictures had been long coming to be gone, now that she thought about it. As he became closer and closer to Lila, she shunned him. That promise of being a team had fallen as soon as it was put under any strain.

Whatever.

I'm street-wise

I can improvise

For once, Marinette wasn’t in a rush. She skipped to school, her sketchbook safely in her room. Any designing inspiration she had, well, there were notebooks for that.

Chloé, surprisingly, had edged her way closer to her side. It really looked like there was change. Redemption, even.

The two of them had transferred to Ms. Mendeleiev’s class as soon as Lila’s grip on the class had been a stranglehold, and it was perhaps the best decision she had made in the past few months.

I'm street-smart

I've got New York City heart

She bumped shoulders with the now-familiar blonde, lips curving up into a brilliant grin. “I forgot to tell you! Your mom is taking my designs to her stage! If you don’t already know, y’know, since you’re her daughter...” And there she went rambling. Shit.

Chloé glanced her way, still somewhat surprised that Marinette would even bother to make friends with her in the first place. After a beat, she nodded. “Of course. She has standards, after all. God forbid she goes and wears Gabriel.”

The snotty tone was harder to lose than her attitude toward her, Marinette reflected, but it was better than nothing. She grinned even wider at the dig at the boy who had once taken up so much of her life.

Why should I worry?

Why should I care?

“How’s your mom’s fashion show coming up?”

That made a smile tug at the blonde’s lips. “She’s doing well. Everything’s going smoothly. She’s even letting me model.”

“You deserve it,” Marinette smiled. None of it was fake. If there was one thing she and Chloé got along with, it was that lies would not be tolerated.

The compliment made her perfectly plucked eyebrows shoot up for a second, sky-blue eyes flicking over at her as a faint tint of pink colored her cheeks. “Of - of course I do,” she returned quickly, at an attempt to return to her normal haughty mask.

Marinette merely grinned at her in response.

I may not have a dime

But I got street savoir faire

Afterschool, she could feel Alya’s eyes boring into the back of her skull as she and Chloé entered her chauffeur's car and drove away.

The blonde in question smirked out the window, making Marinette huff a laugh. “I don’t think that’s necessary, Chloé.”

“Who says it’s necessary?” she crowed, and held her phone up to the noirette’s face. “You’re coming to my mother’s fashion show, since you’re the talent behind her production. And we’re going to model.”

Waitwaitwait—what?

“Sorry?”

“You heard me. We’re modeling in your fashion show.” Chloé’s smug grin stretched from ear to ear. “Who cares about Lila’s lies when you could be walking the catwalk?”

Why should I worry?

Why should I care?

After homework, her brain was still buzzing. We’re modeling. In Audrey Bourgeois’s—my—fashion show. Together.

“How did you get your mom to agree?”

A shrug, and Chloé sprawled back on her larger-than-necessary bed, scrolling through Instagram. “She loves your designs, it wasn’t hard. Besides. You’re the reason she’s even putting this thing on.”

But the split-second glance she took in Marinette’s direction said more.

“Thank you,” Marinette smiled. “I’m glad we could model together.”

Chloé choked on her spit, sitting bolt upright. “Who said anything about together?”

“You did,” she pointed out. “You said we’re going to model. We, Chloé. Not you and I, we.”

“I… I guess I did. Yeah. We’re modeling together.” She flopped back on her bed, almost hiding behind her phone case.

It's just bebop-ulation

And I got street savoir faire

The original plan had been for Marinette to sit on the sidelines next to Audrey, and watch her ideas get paraded on live TV to millions.

But that had gone sideways, and now Marinette was going to be modeling her own designs.

And she was going down the catwalk hand-in-hand with Chloé Bourgeois. That, in of itself, was something she would have scoffed at mere months ago. Now, she looked forward to it with a smile.

“Hey, Marinette.” Chloé threw her a glance, which she returned, looking up from her new sketchbook. “Do you actually know how to walk a catwalk?”

…No.

The rhythm of the city

But once you get it down

The next few hours consisted of Chloé stuffing her in high heels and parading her down the hotel hallways and stairs, a good number of times causing her to fall.

“Chlo, I don’t think I’ll be in six-inch heels!”

“Ridiculous,” her friend huffed. “If you can walk in six-inch heels, you’ll be fine in kitten heels. I don’t think you’ll be in stilettos anyway.”

“Chlooooo…”

The blonde rolled her eyes, Marinette’s hand clutching at hers whenever she stumbled. “You’ll do fine. If you can do a back handspring, you can walk in heels.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

A cheeky grin flashed its way onto Chloé’s face. “You know I’m right, Marinette.”

“…Hrmph.”

Then you can own this town

You can wear the crown

The fashion show was way more extravagant than she’d expected.

“Shit,” she’d breathed, eyes flying open wide. “Your mom is extra.”

Chloé merely grinned in response, scanning the crowd. “Whoa, Beyoncé!”

“What?! No way!!”

“She’s talking to my mom. Let’s go say hi.”

And with that, she snatched Marinette’s hand and practically dragged her over to her mother’s side. “Hello, Mommy. Hi, Ms. Beyoncé!”

“Hi,” Marinette squeaked, now very aware that she was wearing nothing as dazzling as the queen Beyoncé.

But the infamous woman merely grinned and held out a hand dripping in diamonds. “Pleasure. You’re miss Dupain-Cheng? Audrey tells me you’re the brains behind all this.”

She knew her name. Beyoncé knew her name.

Why should I worry?

Why should I care?

The show had gone off without a hitch. She and Chloé had paraded the final two (the best, actually) outfits she had designed side-by-side and arm-in arm, posing back-to-back to the cameras. Almost like siblings.

Chloé had been proud to flaunt the fact that she had been interviewed for multiple magazines and fashion shows, and they were going on Teen Vogue.

“Who needs Lila?” she crowed when they left the building, throwing her hands up in the air. “Who needs her when we’re the real deal?!”

Then she sobered, and turned her head to face Marinette. “Actually, I take it back.” She bumped shoulders with the noirette. “You’re the real deal.”

Marinette flushed, blinking rapidly. “Oh. Oh! Thanks, Chloé. Really, I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“Ridiculous,” Chloé snorted. “I just made it easier. Your designs would have made it up there anyway.” But there was a faint dusting of pink at her cheeks that could not be denied.

I may not have a dime

But I got street savoir faire

The next day, they’d planned their outfits with care, Chloé snickering. “Just wait for the look on Lie-la’s face. We’re famous and she’s not.”

“I don’t think that argument’s going to work every time,” Marinette laughed, aware of the fact she was dressed in top-of-the-line fashion, looking fresh off the runway. “But this time, I’m not stopping you.”

Her best friend smirked. “Good. Then we’re definitely wreaking havoc.”

“Look out world,” Marinette grinned, “we’re here to take it by storm.”

Why should I worry?

Why should I care?

As the bell was close to ringing, they practically strutted into school with all eyes on them, arm-in-arm. They were already trending on Instagram, as Chloé had told her at least ten times.

Marinette inwardly smirked at the sheer looks on her former classmates’ faces.

Alya looked like someone had smacked her in the face with a rotting fish. Adrien’s jaw was hanging just an inch off the floor.

And Lila. Lila looked positively furious, eyebrows drawn together and face in a positive snarl.

Sucks to be you, she sang inwardly. ‘Cause I’ve just blown your whole grand plan to bits.

And the fact that it was Chloé at her side just blew them away more.

Who cared? People changed.

It's just bebop-ulation

And I got street savoir faire

They were sure to discuss the details of the show in loud overtones whenever anyone was near, biting back positively evil grins when eyes were on them (which was always).

Of course, it didn’t necessarily help Lila that Marinette had outed her for trying to destroy her sketchbook’s designs and for bullying on live TV.

She was not above being petty.

They could crawl back if they wished.

Everything goes

Everything fits

With Chloé at her side, the world suddenly seemed less hard. She wasn’t alone. She had a girl who was at her side through thick and thin, and wasn’t afraid to yell at people who would oppose her.

Who needed a plethora of friends when she had one good one at her side?

Nibbling on a croissant, she watched in idle glee as students exploded at Lila, one by one. She watched as the daughter of a diplomat cowered beneath their glares and fury, and never lifted a finger to help her.

She was done being a welcome mat for people to wipe their feet on to have a better day.

Let them wipe their own feet on the stones.

They love me at the Chelsea

They adore me at the Ritz

Now she was known across France, across the world. And with her head held high, she would go even further. This was just the beginning.

People would be wearing her designs. People would be wearing MDC, people would be wearing Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

As the months sped by, she allowed a select few of the old class to trickle back into her circle. Nathanaël, for one. He, Alix, and Marc had never joined in on the drama, instead stuck to themselves. He was a great help in designing, and she would admit it wholeheartedly.

Her friendship with Kitty Section didn’t diminish in the slightest, despite her becoming distant from the rest of the school.

Was she becoming colder? Or had the world pushed her to become so?

Why should I worry?

Why should I care?

At the end of the day, she was much happier than she had been. She had true friends to support her through no matter what. She had a design career waiting for her as soon as she finished université, or even lyceé.

And maybe she would have people who meant more than best friends.

The future was uncertain, but one thing was.

She was going to come out of every setback better than before.

And even when I cross that line

I got street savoir faire

[starrybbarnes]

the 5 times you serenaded Bucky, and the one time he serenaded you. [b.b.]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: there are 5 times you sang to bucky, and 1 where he signs to you :) aka an insight on my music taste. 

Word Count: 3684 (a whole ass story, y’all.)

Author’s note: this has taken me about 2-3 weeks to write. the writer’s block is strong. also, school has started for me, so maybe this’ll motivate me to start doing drabbles/shorter writings. as always, feedback is appreciated!

Warnings: some swearing, drug use (?), lowkey fluff that makes you cry, the fact that its a long ass fic?? need I say more. 

The First Time

It was a total accident. No, seriously. Bucky swears on it. 

No, Bucky didn’t walk in on you half-naked or sneaking out the window. He accidentally heard you sing. 

You shouldn’t be surprised though, as you always had a musical inclination. Whether it be singing, humming, strumming your guitar, or creating a beat with your pencil, music had always occupied your time. Today, it just happened to be laundry day, and you were singing along to the Chain while folding your clothes. 

It was a warm summer afternoon, and you had left the door to your room, so in Bucky’s defense, you weren’t technically singing in private. 

And so there you were, folding some t-shirts, practically screaming the lyrics. Of course, whenever one is singing obnoxiously loud, there’s always someone that is listening.

You and Bucky are on good terms with each other and talked a lot. However, you were harboring a crush, but you simply can’t tell whether or not he feels the same. With his actions, it clearly shows that he cares deeply for you, but his words say otherwise (or lack thereof). It’d be frustrating sometimes, and your song choices would reflect that. 

Running in the shadows

Damn your love, damn your lies

Bucky’s ears perked up in the kitchen, hearing the harmonies bouncing across the walls. He thought his mind was playing tricks because it was like the world stopped making noise to make room for the voice. 

He placed his drink down, and slowly started walking towards the music. As he walked closer, he heard the harmonies much more clearly. Whoever was singing honestly knew what they were doing, and they were really good at it. 

His steps slowed down as he realized whose voice it was when he reached the doorway. There he saw you, immersed in your laundry while you were passionately singing. He was blown away by how you sang, while also listening to the nature of the song. Something in him just a mile a minute, and now everything makes sense.

As the song ends, you turn off your speaker and turned to face the door. You gasped and drop some freshly folded shirts to the floor.

“Jesus, Bucky!” you sighed in relief, “let me know when you’re staring at me!”

Bucky couldn’t muster out an apology, he was left dumbfounded. “You… sing... Pretty?”

“Not sure if that’s a compliment, but I’ll take it,” you said while laughing. “I’m not sure how much you heard, but hopefully I wasn’t bothering you.”

“N-No!” Bucky stammered, “I heard almost everything, but it was amazing. Almost made me drop my orange juice.” 

Your face softened as you walked closer to Bucky, and reached for his cheek. “Guess I’m your siren now, Buck. Come on, I’ll show you some of my other favorite ‘tunes’ to sing to.”

。。

The Second Time 

Bucky had now been accustomed to the singing heard around the compound. Every time he could, he’d compliment you on it, showering accolades on accolades. And every time, your face would flush pink.

One of Bucky’s favorite parts of hearing you sing is actually hearing you sing songs that never in a million years he would consider his favorites. But sometimes, when he was too engrossed in hearing you sing, that he wouldn’t pay attention to the lyrics.

You were in the kitchen, chopping up some cucumber for your dish, the song Keeping Tabs playing in the background. This was one of Bucky’s favorite songs to hear you sing to. It was super mellow and your harmonies complimented it perfectly. 

Bucky was seated on the couch, reading a magazine while Steve sat across from him, taking a super-soldier nap. Even Steve would agree that your singing would lull him peacefully to sleep. 

As you were cooking, the chorus started playing and you were singing along: 

I've been tripping off the tabs in my room

I don't know why, baby, but I'm feeling blue

You didn’t notice Peter walking into the kitchen, a look of confusion washing over him. “Uh, Y/N?” Peter chimed.

“What’s up kid?”

“I don’t mean to sound like a fossil, but why is Mr. Bucky singing to a song about drugs?” 

You motioned to Peter to shut the hell up, but it was too late. Bucky’s eyes went wide, and simply said, “what?”

Peter started to dig his own grave, “yeah! This is like, one of Y/n’s favorite songs! I don’t get why though since she doesn’t do ecstasy.”

As if on cue, Steve woke up and just heard “y/n” and “ecstasy” and his eyes shot open. 

“You do ecstasy, Y/N?” Steve half yelled, half choked. 

You turned to Peter, motioned slicing across his neck, and he seemed to have shut up almost instantly.

Bucky just stood there, trying to comprehend how a mellow song could have such outlandish connotations, and just whispered: “but you sing so innocently, how can that be possible.”

You started chuckling, “Buck, it literally says it in the name.”

“I thought it meant the other keeping tabs! Like checking up on someone!” Bucky argued. 

“He’s literally saying he takes an ounce of shrooms, Bucky!”

You just heavily sighed as you placed your hands on your head, and started laughing almost bordering crying. Bless Bucky’s pure soul.

Bucky speaks up. “Well, can I keep a tab on you while taking you out tomorrow? My treat.”

“Smooth, Barnes,” you chirped, “But you’re still an idiot. But I love you for it. A date sounds wonderful.”

Peter and Steve looked back at each other and back to each other.

“Suddenly I think maybe these two are on drugs.” Steve comments.

“Uh, I think the word you’re looking for is love, Mr. Rogers sir,” Peter piped up, earning an eye roll.

。。

The Third Time 

“Y/N?? Y/N??” Bucky kept repeating your name all over the compound. He knew you were out and about with the girls, but he swears he heard your laughter somewhere. 

There had been an uptick of chaos and work, causing your peaceful moments of music to cease altogether. Bucky doesn’t like to admit it, but he truly does miss it. The silence has been driving him nuts. 

And he knows that you’ve been extra stressed as well. He just wanted to have a nice day in and spend quality time with you. He even brought in a pot of jasmines to help destress your room. But for the life of him, he just couldn’t find you.  

Just then, Bucky runs into Sam, who happens to be rubbing his temples. It looked like he was nursing a horrible headache. 

“Sam! Whoa, you ain’t looking too good,” Bucky started, you all right?” 

“Man, my ears are ringing,” Sam complained, “I don’t even know where it’s coming from! And what’s with the pot of flowers? Are they for your girlfriend.”

Bucky’s face flushed pink. Of course, no one knows you and Bucky are dating, but Sam knows better. 

“What makes you say that?” Bucky said a little too cooly.

“You think I haven’t seen you running around the place, Tin Man,” Sam replied, “I haven’t seen you this frantic since the time you were accusing everyone of eating your leftovers.”

“The pizza was handmade, Sam!” 

“Whatever. Did you check everywhere?” Sam inquired. 

Bucky sighed, “I’ve looked everywhere I think she’d be, but no luck. I know she’s stressed but I haven’t seen her at the places she enjoys to destress!”

Bucky’s voice raised a little too loud for Sam’s liking, causing him to wince in pain. 

Sam huffed, “look, I don’t think you’ve checked everywhere. Because I think Metallica has taken over the newly built studio, and god does my head hurt.” 

Something clicked in Bucky’s head that made him run in the opposite direction, towards the music studio that Stark had built. Bucky hollered a goodbye, leaving Sam to raise an eyebrow.

“Be safe, man! And careful with your Jasmines!” Sam yelled, walking towards the kitchen, mumbling about the youth and their music.

Bucky reached the studio but didn’t hear a sound. Did Sam play a prank on him? Was it just a plot to reveal that you and Bucky are dating?

As he places the pot of flowers next to the door, suddenly, a red ‘on-air’ light flashes on, and as Bucky leans his ear against the door, he hears you go A one two three, GO!

Soundly the loud riff of a guitar opens up the song, and Bucky hears you literally scream out the opening lines: 

When I get to the bottom I go back to the top of the slide

Where I stop and I turn and I go for a ride

Till I get to the bottom and I see you again

He was taken aback by a cacophony of noise when the drums started booming he almost fell back as to how loud the music was even through a closed door. As he opened the door, he really didn’t know what to expect, but all that changed when he saw a familiar someone. 

There you were, hair up in a high ponytail, wearing a teal crop top and black shorts, sweating and screaming your absolute lungs out while playing the lead guitar. On your right was Shuri, who was going ham on the bass guitar, and on your left was MJ strumming along to the electric guitar, and a very energetic Ned is playing the drums at the back.

Bucky had never seen such chaos, and to top it all off, he spotted Peter running around with an ashtray that is on fire and it’s over his head. 

Turns out, you were playing Helter Skelter. Bucky had never seen you this passionate over a song, let alone seen you perform. He was in awe, kind of scared, and kind of turned on. 

As the song came to an end, you asked “how’s that?” which caused Ned to fling his drumsticks across the studio and shout, “I’ve got blisters on my fingers!”

You applauded your friends and told them to take a break, to meet back in 20 minutes. The kids left, Ned simply saying “this was fucking awesome.”

The studio is now completely quiet, only you and Bucky staring at each other. You, heaving breathing and coughing, Bucky wide-eyed. It’s become a tradition. 

You spoke first, “like what you heard?”

Bucky was rendered speechless. “I mean, it’s music.”

“You don’t sound too sure of it,” you chuckled, walking up to Bucky and giving him a peck on the cheek. “I heard you were looking for me.”

“I wanted to take you on a small date to help you destress, I even brought you some Jasmines,” Bucky said softly, crouching on the floor to retrieve the small pot.

“Bucky... You didn’t have to.”

“But I want to because you keep blowing me away with the talent and amazing voice of yours,” Bucky compliment.

“I think of it more of anguished screaming, but that works too,” you gushed, fiddling with your guitar.

“Can... I join you in your destress screaming? Maybe after I’ll make sure you do a more desired type of screaming, eh?” Bucky suggested as he winked at you.

You smacked him on the arm, “you’re super gross, you know that? But, an offer is an offer.”

Bucky started to move in and kiss you, but at the last second, you started playing your guitar and screaming Helter Skelter again. Earning a ‘menacing glare’ from Bucky and uncontrollable laughter from you.

。。

The Fourth Time 

By now, Bucky shouldn’t be surprised at the music library you have collected over the past year you’ve been dating. He has heard every song you’ve heard more than once, and can now be considered a reliable karaoke partner.

It’s Friday night, and you are ‘looking out’ for the ‘kids'. Shuri is hosting a huge house party in Wakanda, and since no one is going to be home, T’Challa had it bestowed upon you and the Avengers (with the exception of Banner and Stark) were to make sure the party was ‘safe’ and ‘sane.’ Whatever that meant.

And so now here you all were, ‘chaperoning’ the party. AKA, you, Nat, Wanda, and Shuri doing a shot-ski in the kitchen. 

Vision did the honors of being the house DJ for the night, and it turns out that the microwave does have good taste in music. 

The party was going strong, and everyone was having a good time. The party was 90’s theme, everyone was looking fresh out of Teen Vogue. 

It was a miracle Bucky decided to ‘dress up’ for the occasion. Or rather, dress down. Bucky had on straight cuffed jeans (that you did), a white Greenday shirt, and a dark green windbreaker. Despite Bucky’s hair being on the slightly long side, he was able to execute the DiCaprio part perfectly (with some help from you). 

To compliment Bucky’s outfit, you wore form-fitting denim shorts with a green striped tank. Picture Fran from the Nanny, but obviously 10 times cuter.

The party was in full swing, banger after banger was blasting. You tried your very hardest to drag Bucky to the dancefloor, but he kept his composure. You on the other, were tipsy and ripping it up on the dancefloor. Some say you battled a kid to a shuffle battle, but you can’t confirm nor deny it.

It was 1 in the morning and saw Bucky stifle a yawn. You simply asked, “Wanna call it a night?” and Bucky purposely started falling onto you, feigning a snore. 

“C’mon sleepy-head, let’s head out,” you giggled. You approached Shuri and told her that you guys were going to retreat back.

“Aw no!” Shuri cried out, “Don’t be old, guys! Just one more song.”

“I think I’m tuckered out, Shuri,” you replied, “babysitting a fossil really tires you out.”

“I literally didn’t move all night, babe,” Bucky said, rolling his eyes. The two of you said your goodbyes to Shuri and started out the door. Grabbing hold of your hand, you were about to exit, and as you and Bucky were about to open the door, you heard the beat drop:

Hennessy on my lips, take a little sip

Privacy on the door, I'ma make the shit grip

All logic flew out the window as you bolted to the dancefloor, leaving Bucky in the dust. You caught up to Shuri, screaming the lyrics in unison. It was none other than My Type, your go-to dancing song. 

Bucky had the most confused look he’s seen in a while, and had every right to. He never saw this side of you, much less the side where you’re twerking upside down in the middle of the dancefloor.

To be fair, it’s a really raunchy song, and after the ‘shrooms’ incident, you’ve tried to keep your song choices decent. Key word tried.

You made your way to where Bucky was standing, still very much screaming the lyrics. When the song got to Eight-inch big, ooh, that's good pipe, you looked at Bucky like he was a full course meal. Bucky couldn’t stop laughing, face flushed absolutely pink from embarrassment. 

You kept rapping the lyrics and you’re pretty sure you would’ve taken him then and there. You got up all over him, albeit trying your best to give your bedroom eyes, but failing miserably.

“Babe, I really think it’s time to head out,” Bucky chuckled, trying so hard to suppress any moods he was starting to feel.

“But I wanna dance on you foreverrr,” you cooed while leaning on Bucky for support, “I wanna siIing to youu.”

“We’ll do it later, babe, promise,” Bucky said in a low voice. He saw you pout and when you wouldn’t budge, he held you over his shoulder and made his way out.

Shuri couldn’t stop cackling, and as the door closed behind the party, you simply hollered, “that’s my type, bitch, that’s my type!” 

。。

The Fifth Time

There were days you couldn’t sleep. Whether it be from all-nighters, stress, nightmares, or you drink a little too much coffee, sometimes your eyes wouldn’t close. It was customary for you to just stargaze in the living room window until sleep overcame you. 

Sometimes Bucky would join you. You knew how bad his nightmares got, and you be there to ease him through it. Sometimes the two of you would deliberately stay up to stargaze.

Tonight might have been one of Bucky’s worst nightmares to date. You were in the kitchen, brewing tea. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Bucky slowly making his way towards you. Eyes filled with sorrow, bags deeper than they’ve been in a while.

You turn to him and rub his back while he breathes heavily on your shoulder. You hand him a mug and stare at him with concern.

“Do you wanna watch a movie or stargaze?” you offered, wrapping your arms around his stomach as you listen to his heartbeat steady. 

Bucky shook his head and softly said, “can you actually sing a melody for me?”

It’s been a while since you’ve sung, but nonetheless, you happily agreed. The two of you made your way to the couch and took out the mattress from there. Bucky laid his head on your lap and you draped a blanket between the two of you.

You slowly began to massage Bucky’s head, and almost instantly, he started to doze off. You asked FRIDAY to play a simple beat and you started singing softly:

Last night, boy, I met you, yeah

When I was asleep

You're such a dream to me

It was R.E.M., one of your favorite songs to sing and listen to when you wanted to fall asleep. Sure enough, Bucky started to yawn and his heartbeat was slowing down. His eyes were filled with love and peace, and he couldn’t stop smiling while hearing you sing. 

You kept singing along while running your hands through his hair. Moments like these made Bucky eternally grateful for your compassion from him.

You then sang your favorite verse: "I love you—who starts a conversation like that?" Nobody but I do. You startled yourself as to how quiet you said that specific part, for fear of waking Bucky up. 

Bucky turned to look at you and said I love you back. Tears had formed in both of your eyes. After two years of dating, the words were uttered and things started to fall into place. 

Bucky kissed you tenderly on the lips, passion growing between you too. Foreheads were touching, and you finally finished the song by singing If you can believe, you're such a dream to me. 

The two of you fell asleep into each other’s arms. Morning came, and you saw the sun come up, and Bucky holding on to you. 

It really did feel like a dream, and you couldn’t be more in love with him.

。。

The One Time Bucky Sang to You

It was a warm September evening, and Bucky decided to take you out on a picnic. He argued the day was too beautiful to go to waste, so he just had to take you out.

And so the two of you went about 10 minutes down the road of the compound, where the lake was beaming brighter than ever. It seemed that someone had come beforehand to decorate the picnic area, as there was a decorated table with a floral centerpiece. 

The sun was setting, so Bucky started lighting up a fire. His eyes were filled with indescribable joy. 

He then pulled out a guitar that was hiding under the table and started to tune it. “I started taking guitar lessons about 2 months ago, and I wanted to surprise you!”

“Oh Buck,” you gushed, “you’re an absolute sweetheart!”

You snuggled up closer to him, and he started slowly strumming the guitar and singing:

Who knows how long I've loved you

You know I love you still

Will I wait a lonely lifetime

If you want me to, I will

You recognized the song as I Will, the first song you’ve ever taught yourself to sing and play. It was a simple love song, and here was Bucky singing it with so much pride. 

You decided to harmonize with him, and seeing his eyes light up made you fill with love. Bucky ended the song and leaned in to kiss you.

“Do you remember the first time I told ya that I love ya?” Bucky spoke up as he leaned his head onto yours.

You intertwined hands. “It was when I sang R.E.M. for the first time, wasn’t it?”

Bucky nodded in agreement, “About 2 years ago, and when I tell you I felt that I really did. It made me realize that you have loved me unconditionally. Even when we first met, you had so much compassion for me, and I really can’t thank you enough. Not to mention that your voice has come down from heaven itself” 

Your heart was swelling and you started to tear up, “and I can’t thank you enough either, Buck. You are my eternal sunshine, and you know how much I love to sing to you.”

“Your singing was like the light at the end of the tunnel, as cheesy as it sounds,” Bucky laughed, “everyone says you were my siren, but I shook it off. But, I truly believe it.”

“Which is why, Y/N Y/L/N,” Bucky started, as he pulled out a navy velvet box from his pocket, “would you do me the honor of being my siren until the end of time? Will you marry me?”

You started to cry and yelled an inaudible YES! as you embraced Bucky into a hug. Tears of joy streamed down both of each other’s faces, and you couldn’t stop smiling.

“Do you wanna sing Helter Skelter in the middle of nowhere?” Bucky offered as he picked up the guitar.

“For my love,” you started, “I’d sing any day for you.” 

[cromulentbookreview]

It Came Out of the Sky!

Oh, it came out of the sky, landed just a little south of Moline / 

Jody fell out of his tractor, couldn't believe what he seen / 

Laid on the ground and shook, fearin' for his life / 

Then he ran all the way to town screamin' it came out of the sky / 

Well, a crowd gathered 'round and a scientist said it was marsh gas...

Uhm.. And by that Creedence Clearwater Revival reference I mean: The Other Side of the Sky by Amie Kaufman and Meagan Spooner!

Nimh lives on the surface of a flooded world full of ruins of an ancient, long dead civilization. Long ago, all but one of the gods fled the surface in favor of the sky. The living god who remained behind is fated to save the people of the surface...eventually. 

Eventually.

Nimh - full name Nimhara - is the 42nd incarnation of the Divine One, aka the living god. She’s basically the Dalai Lama, if the Dalai Lama was allowed to be reincarnated in any gender. But being worshiped by the people as a living goddess has it’s downsides: Nimh is forbidden from touching anyone, ever. Seriously, ever.

The who “no touching anyone, ever” thing is pretty intense. She even has to provide herself with her own medical care! God forbid she ever need to remove her own appendix. Or: what happens if she falls, cracks her skull and renders herself unconscious? How can she give herself medical care if she’s out of it? Magic? I mean, maybe. Nimh’s world definitely has magic. Nimh, being Divine, should have manifested some magical aspect soon after becoming the goddess - her predecessor, the 41st incarnation, had a talent for healing magic. Unfortunately, it’s been 10 years since Nimh was called to be the Divine One, and she’s shown no sign of manifesting her aspect. And people are beginning to talk: there’s a whole group, known as the Graycloaks for their chosen color, who believe that Nimh isn’t even the Divine One and have made it their mission to remove her from power. So she’s got enemies on one side, and the massive weight of people’s expectations on the other - if she’s an incarnation of the divine, then surely she must be able to do something to help her people? Perhaps something to stop the roving clouds of rogue magic called mist that go around wreaking havoc? 

Nimh wants to prove herself. She wants to help people. But mostly she’s lonely as hell and just wants a hug. Which she can’t have because of the whole “no touching the divine” thing. Just to reiterate: 

The only other living being Nimh can touch is the bindle cat - a giant orange floof whom she rescued as a kitten. The bindle cat doesn’t have a name - he’s just the bindle cat because, according to Nimh “You do not name a cat. He is a cat; he keeps his name to himself.”  True story.

The bindle cat, an approximation.

Anyway, the bindle cat is Nimh’s best friend, constant companion and literally everyone’s favorite character in the whole book. 

Anyway! When we first meet Nimh, she’s sneaking out under the nose of the high priest Daoman to go on a secret pilgrimage that she hopes will help manifest her aspect. Only just as she’s about to leave, she sees a light falling from the sky and chases after it...

North is a prince of Alciel, a technologically advanced kingdom in the sky. His ancestors fled the world below ages ago, and now, the people in the clouds are convinced the surface is dead, incapable of supporting life. The people of Alciel live in a world with all sorts of fun tech, like Apple watches - uhm, I mean, chronos - fancy trains, airplanes, DNA locks on doors...honestly, Alciel seems pretty great. Only there’s one problem: the archipelago of sky islands that comprise Alciel seem to be sinking. It’s been so long since the people of Alciel have fled to the sky that people don’t really remember or understand what exactly makes their sky islands stay, well, in the sky. While the adults around him engage in sinking denialism, North is convinced the only way to save themselves is to put together an expedition to the surface. After all, they came from the surface thousands of years ago - maybe the answer to keeping themselves afloat is down there? Everyone dismisses North’s idea - the surface is uninhabitable, there’s no way to get down there and back again, blah blah blah. But North has a solution - he and his friends built their own plane. 

Sounds legit.

This, of course, doesn’t impress the adults, especially North’s moms who are both like “absolutely not” because seriously, no way are they letting their son, the kingdom’s sole heir, fly around in something he built and possibly get himself killed. They tell him to destroy the plane and forget about the whole thing. 

And North, being a good son, obeyed his mothers’ demand, decommissioned his plane and lived happily ever after. The end.

Pfft, no. North, being a teenager, decides that he will prove to everyone that it’s possible to fly to and from the surface by flying his experimental plane around. Because a teenager flying around a plane he and his friends built sounds super safe and will definitely end well.

It does not end well. But not because North isn’t good at plane building - he’s actually great at it, but as he’s flying, his plane catches fire, which is never a good sign. North had only intended to fly around Alciel, just to show off that he could, but now he’s heading toward the surface much faster than he’d planned.

Meanwhile, on the surface, Nimh sees a star falling from the sky and, thinking its the sign she’s been waiting for, decides to chase it. It lands in a salt flat rendered reflective by a couple of inches of water (think Salar de Uyuni - this whole segment has some fantastic, Ghibli-esque imagery). Only, it’s not a falling star - it’s a person. 

North emerges, somewhat unscathed, from the wreckage of his plane and realizes what happened - someone has deliberately cut through his supply lines. Someone wanted him to crash. Now he’s stuck on the surface and his Apple watch has no signal. He has no way to get home or any way to let his family and friends know that he’s still alive. 

But, lucky for him, after fighting off some wild boars, he meets a strange girl called Nimh, who offers to help him by taking him back to her temple in the city. North’s mind is pretty much blown: not only are there people on the surface, they have cities. They have religion. It’s the opposite of everything he’s ever been taught. Nimh’s a bit odd, but as she’s nice enough, North follows her anyway...

Nimh, meanwhile, is ecstatic:  she thinks North may be part of a larger prophecy that will help save the world. He came from the sky, after all, where the gods live. And - bonus! - he has no idea who she is. He looks at her and doesn’t see a goddess who can never, ever, ever, ever be touched, he just sees another person, something Nimh has never experienced. 

Only once Nimh and North get back to Nimh’s camp, they find that all her friends have been murdered. North is like “what the -?” and Nimh is all “uh, yeah we should probably run for it” and thus begins the whole adventure that makes up The Other Side of the Sky and holy crap, I absolutely love it. I love everything about it - the Ghibli-esque imagery, the romance, the adventure, the kitty sidekick. Oh God the kitty sidekick! Apparently, North’s kingdom in the sky doesn’t have cats. He’s never seen a cat before. HE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT A CAT IS, PEOPLE, THIS IS NOT A DRILL. 

He should watch The Cat Returns. 

Anyway, The Other Side of the Sky is gorgeous, impossible to stop reading, romantic, exciting and addictive as hell. Like a Ghibli movie, this book was exactly the sort of thing I needed to forget the outside world for a little while. It’s easy to picture the whole story as an anime. Just picture North and Nimh as Pazu and Sheeta from Castle in the Sky! It works, I swear. 

Sometimes we need the beautiful pastels of a Ghibli movie to warm our hearts when everything is terrible. The Other Side of the Sky is the book equivalent of one of those movies. The only downside is that it’s the first book in a series, and it ends on a cliffhanger that can and will make it feel as though your heart has been removed from your body. Or that you’ve been turned into a cat and are now being forced by a crazed Tim Curry-voiced cat king to marry the cat prince. Something like that. Either way, I will be waiting as patiently as I possibly can for the sequel. 

Is it ready yet? Is it ready yet? Meow. Meow. Meeeowwwwww. Pay attention to meeeee.

RECOMMENDED FOR: Anyone in need of the book-equivalent of a Hayao Miyazaki movie that’s also the first book in a series; anyone fond of an exciting, action-packed YA romance.

NOT RECOMMENDED FOR: People who have something against fun, joy, or cats; anyone who doesn’t like YA (seriously, why read YA if you don’t like it?) anyone who thinks Studio Ghibli movies are just for children (watch Grave of the Fireflies, and tell me with a straight face that it’s a kids movie. Children should NOT watch that movie!)

RATING: 5/5

TOTALLY UNBIASED FANGIRL RATING: 500,000,000 / 5

ANTICIPATION LEVEL FOR SEQUEL: Olympus Mons

RELEASE DATE: Not soon enough September 8, 2020.

GHIBLI RATING:

CAT RATING:

[santana-maribel]

📝 it was always you. (finntana)

who: @santana-maribel and @finnsterhuddy​.  where: santana & quinn’s apartment.  when: saturday 2nd may.  what: the “universe” aka santana’s clumsy ass interrupts yet another kiss between them during spin the bottle. but alone in the aftermath, they finally get their moment. with a surprising outcome. (surprising to everyone except jesse.) warnings: drug mention.

Santana shuffled into Seb's arms and pressed her lips against his. It was an unnecessarily showy kiss, more tongue than anyone else seemed to be offering up, but that was just how they rolled. As she pulled away, she giggled again, before spinning the bottle herself. She watched as it spun round and round, making her dizzy before it finally stopped. On Finn. Santana lifted her eyes from the bottle, glancing up at him. She offered a small smile, her heart racing in her chest as she weighed up her options. She had wanted to kiss Finn for months now, but not like this. However, it was the rules of the game. The rules she'd invented in her head. So she leaned across, closing the gap between them. Her ears ringing, as their lips were closer than they'd ever been.

Finn was barely paying attention to the spinning bottle, and he hadn’t even noticed Santana was the one spinning it. It wasn’t until Chad stopped talking that his gaze turned to the bottle, the neck pointing straight at him. “Oh,” he huffed out, a nervous laugh escaping his lips. He meant to redeem himself from their failed attempt, but this scenario put some pressure he wasn’t expecting. Rules were rules, right? It would be idiotic for him to back down now, and it was Santana after all. He smiled back, adjusting his position so he could easily lean closer to her to meet her halfway, his pulse raising rapidly by the second.

Her eyes closed, her hand reaching over to cup his face as she shuffled forward. She heard the thud first, felt the wetness pooling around her knees second. As she pulled her face back and glanced down at the ground. She'd knocked over her glass, spilling the alcohol over the bottom of her dress and all over the floor. Her temper flared quickly. She fucking hated the universe. She was cursed, whatever was going on in the world, did not want her to kiss Finn Hudson. So fucking be it. She let out a forced laugh and rose to her feet, "i'm just gonna' clean up," she informed the group before leaving to her bedroom to get changed.

Finn was certain their lips had already met. Her hand was on the side of his face, he could feel her breath, even her body heat radiating onto his skin. But the next thing he knew, Santana had abruptly pulled away and his knee was soaked in alcohol. “Shit,” he muttered as he looked around for napkins or paper towels, but didn’t spot anything on sight. “I-I’ll join you,” he said in a rush, but she had already disappeared into her room. “Sorry guys.” He shuffled through the circle, grabbing some paper towels and patted them on the floor real quick before jogging after the party host. He arrived by the door frame of her bedroom, knocking lightly on the door. “You okay, San?”

Santana stood in the middle of her bedroom, her face flushed red with annoyance. This whole thing was stupid, she would have never gotten this angry about a fucking dude before. What the hell made Finn so special? Why was there this undeniable pull towards him? When she heard her bedroom door open, she half expected it to be Seb standing there, but when she noticed it was Finn, she brushed her hair out of her face and turned to look at him. "No, i'm not okay," she sighed, "it's so fucking stupid, all of it. I hate the fact I have this ridiculous crush on you, I hate the fact you ran out of my apartment before kissing me, I hate that the universe doesn't want us to like...even try and I really, really, hate the fact you fucked Quinn."

Finn awkwardly stuffed his hands down his jean pockets, taking careful steps towards Santana, but stopping when she made her last confession. A wave of guilt flushed through his body, his cheek burning red as he looked at her ranting about her feelings. How was he going to explain that he felt the same in a believable way? “For what it’s worth, I wanted it to happen really bad. I really wanted to kiss you,” he admitted, inching closer to the girl as he slowly removed his hands from his pockets. “Quinn’s great and yeah, that happened and I know it complicates things between us, but we agreed that it wasn’t going to happen anymore. It’s done, but it’s in the past.” He wanted to cringe at how horrible he sounded to his own ears. “But  I gotta be honest, Santana. You and Seb have been all over each other tonight and you guys have been for a long time now, but you walk around flirting with me, saying you like me and you’re upset I didn’t kiss you and that I slept with Quinn? I know you guys got your own thing, but I never really got that dynamic. And I think a part of me, that I haven’t even realized myself, is backing away a little because Seb hates me and I don’t wanna stir up anything else by being with you.”

Santana watched as Finn edged closer towards her, the same dopey look on his face that she adored. Nope. She wasn’t going to crack, she wanted to rage, let out her annoyance at him, at the situation. She rolled her dark eyes, pupils blown out to hell from the drugs, as he admitted that he wanted the same things too. “Like you could have screwed any girl on campus, any one of them, but no, you’re here telling me that you wanted to kiss me then like a week later, your balls deep in Quinn? No fucking bueno, Hudson,” she seethed, although she knew that she was a hypocrite considering she’d been banging Seb for nearly two years. But still, rationality wasn’t something she was big on, especially not right at that moment. She stilled as he brought up Seb. In hindsight, she should have known that it was coming, but still, she crossed her arms over her chest in defiance. "Seb and I…We're just friends. Friends...who fuck." The words sounded weird as she said them aloud. People didn’t understand their dynamic and she wasn’t about to start explaining it to Finn. “I would have put the Seb thing on hold for you,” she huffed, narrowing her eyes at him.

“That’s not how that works and you know it,” Finn shot back, his guilt being slightly dimmed by his building annoyance for her stubbornness. “Seb’s got his balls deep in you God knows how many times a week. Don’t see me complaining over here.” Knowing both Sebastian and Santana for all of their college career so far, it wasn’t a secret that they were hooking up. But it was truly starting to get to him seeing them make out once every two minutes and it didn’t sit right that Santana was so angry with him. “Don’t you think I know that? I’ve been listening to him bragging about you these past two years, and it’s not exactly like you’re keeping things behind closed doors either.” His pulse was raising again, although not for the same reason as last time. “On hold? So, hypothetically, we start dating and maybe I wanna be in a long-term relationship, but in your mind, you’re putting another relationship on hold?”

Santana scoffed at him. “You never made a move, Finn,” she barked, “not once. Was I supposed to sit about and wait for you to one day decide that you wanted to kiss me and see if we could start something from it?” Her anger was at its peak now, her jaw clenched as he spat truth directly into her face. “We’re not in a relationship,” she stammered, although, they basically were. They just hooked up with different people and didn’t change their facebook statuses. Very non-traditional. “Seb is my best friend. It’s been convenient and I love him, but I would have fucking ended it if you wanted me, I would have ended if you asked me out,” she admitted, her voice quietening slightly, a small wave of emotion coming over her. “But hey, looks like the universe has once again decided our fate, no big deal.”

"So that grilled cheese night didn't count for anything? Yeah, I might've chickened out and bailed, but at least I tried something." He hated bringing up that moment again, yet it was the thing that kept coming back to them. "You're an adult, Santana, you don't have to wait for anyone to make a move. You can make your own," he huffed, his hands tying into fists by the sides of his body as he made a mental note to breathe. "I've been a total idiot around you, that's not a secret. But I'm here now, admitting to you that I want you. What are you waiting for? I'm kinda sick of letting the universe or whatever decide that it's not happening. It was a silly excuse that we laughed about over the years, but are we gonna let that defeat us?" Finn stepped closer to Santana, almost hovering over her at this point. "What do you really want?"

“Obviously it counted for something. Obviously it meant something, Finn. Otherwise I wouldn’t be so jacked up about it,” she argued back, incensed that he would assume anything otherwise. “I have spent so long, flirting and teasing and inviting you over, after you made your great escape after the fire alarm, I thought I’d read the signals wrong,” she explained, “I didn’t want to get hurt.” She stayed silent during his next bout of words, her fists clenching as she held them on her hips. He was so close, she could practically feel his heartbeat from where he was standing and she dropped her hands to wring them together. “You,” she breathed, “I just want you. I just want a chance to see if there’s something there or if we’d be wasting our time.”

Finn wasn't sure why it had been taking so long for something to happen between them. His interest for her had already peaked weeks ago, and her feelings for him wasn't exactly unknown either. Guess he was stupid enough to let everything else become a distraction, even excuses, to avoid drama. Yet, it had only left Santana hurt and himself feeling horrible. "I obviously hurt you. And I'm really sorry about that," he apologized sincerely, grabbing one of her hands with a tad force to untangle them, squeezing it lightly. "Then, so be it." He wasted no time, not even give her a second to think before closing the gap between them and softly pressing his lips against hers. The immediate sensation of bliss hit him like a lightning bolt, excitement and euphoria rushing through his veins as he felt her body close to his. He cupped her face with his available hand to deepen the kiss, barely able to think as he was overwhelmed with passion. He had barely pulled away when a metaphorical light bulb lit up over his head - she was his soulmate. A breathy "wow" escaped his lips as he tried to catch his breath. It was like he had to hold onto something or else he would collapse from utter dizziness. Right as he was about to speak again, he looked down on her left arm and saw it - a silver scar identical to his. With the exact same shape and length as his. On the exact same spot as him. "It's you."

She felt to spit yet another barbed remark in his face when he grabbed her hand and pulled her against him. Maybe she could just...give in. Just this once, it seemed like fate was on their side, as he finally pressed his lips against hers. It was like she'd been dead this whole time and his lips against hers brought her to life. It was like a fire had been lit inside of her and it was burning quicker than anything else she could comprehend. Every sense in her body was heightened, colours were brighter, everything felt clearer, the entire world just seemed to both stop and make sense all at once. She poured a moan into his mouth and her arms wrapped around his neck as she pressed up on her tiptoes to hold him tighter. Her fingers laced in his hair to keep him close, she didn't want. One of the results of taking mdma was a feeling of complete euphoria. Santana had taken a ton of drugs in her time, hell -- she was high right now. But this was like nothing she had ever felt in her entire life, she was completely enveloped by euphoria. And only one thing was clear. Finn was her soulmate. He pulled back to catch his breath and she did the same, her hands trembling as she released her arms from around his neck. Her breathing was so heavy that she almost didn't hear what he said, her eyes following his down to her left arm and settling on the scar that resided there. She'd had it her whole life, no one could ever remember how she got it. But the second she looked at his arm and spotted the matching one, she knew. It was their bond, their manifestation, the one thing that they shared. It was him; it had always been him. He’d been there, nestled deep within her heart for her entire life. "Oh my god," she whispered, her eyes wide.

Finn thought he didn’t care about who his soulmate was. While he was curious when he realized he had met his soulmate at freshman orientation, his curiosity only lasted a short moment before he ultimately decided to live his life as is, taking things day by day. He never truly felt prepared to be in love anyway, or so he thought. But now he finally understood what it was all about - why Jesse had to give it a try with Rachel, why Tina ran off and got engaged, why people’s lives seemed to complete when they found their soulmate. His world has finally opened before his eyes, and in front of him was Santana. Then, it struck him that it wasn’t that easy for them - she seemed to hold resentment over him for sleeping with Quinn and Seb was still in the picture. “What happens now?”

Reality hit her like a fucking truck. What did happen now? She couldn't stop her hands from trembling, her heart from pounding in her throat to even think straight. Seb. What was she going to tell Sebastian? She always thought that if it happened, she could just go right on living her life, the way that she always did. But now, with the reality weighing so heavily on her, she knew that wasn't something she could do. To Finn or Seb. "I need to go," she stammered, pulling back out of his hold. This wasn't happening, this couldn't be happening. "It's my birthday party, people came to see me. I can't be locked away in here, I have to go," she was rambling now, fighting off waves of terrified nausea. She moved to her wardrobe and stood out of sight behind the door, shimmying out of her wet dress and into another one. She had come into her bedroom to get changed after all, that was it, just to change out of the alcohol soaked dress. Nothing more.

“But—“ Before Finn could utter another word, she moved to her wardrobe, leaving him standing there awkwardly. Should he stay? Should he go? “Well, I’m gonna head back to the party,” he announced, his voice shaky and insecure. “Let me know when your high has worn down or something. Or not. I don’t know. See ya anyway.” He stood there for a few more seconds in case she came back out again, but from how she rushed off, it didn’t seem like she wanted to talk. Was that how she felt like when he bolted out the other night? He shot out a timid “bye” before stepping out of the bedroom and back into the party, although this time quietly into a corner to hide a little. The kiss was magical and beyond his wildest fantasies, so why did he feel so sad?

She leant her hand against the cool wood door and let out a slow, shaky breath. Her entire world seemed to be collapsing around her, with absolutely no certainty at all. Except for him. It felt like a cruel joke was being played on them, their long lasting joke of the universe wanting to keep them apart, when they should have been together. She heard his remark and sucked down a greedy gulp of air. She stuck her head out from behind her wardrobe, watching as he turned his back on her to leave, a rare moment of clarity shooting through her. "Finn, please don't leave," she called out, but it was too late, he'd already departed the bedroom, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Her fingertips traced over her lips and she was practically able to taste the electricity still lingering on them from the kiss. Another shaky breath let out, she closed the wardrobe door and brushed her hair behind her ears, as she looked in the mirror. Her eyes were wide, a look of undeniable terror on her face. Yet, there was something calm to her too, a sort of sereneness that she assumed one only understood when they found their soulmate. Leaving the bedroom, she closed the door with a small thud and grabbed an open bottle of champagne, from a side table, before strolling back into the circle and settling back into her previous spot between Aubrey and Seb. She brushed off Aubrey’s question about whether or not she was okay with a forced smile and glanced around to see if she could see Finn anywhere. When she couldn’t, she focused back on the game, watching as Seb spun the bottle to land on Aubrey. It certainly wasn’t business as usual, but she’d take it.

[geminimoonbeamx]

The Lost Girl Chronicles Part 1: Hexs and Heartache

A/N: Soooo, this is a very random update from me. I know. But you guys know my love of Chase Collins and I thought I’d give you guys something because I know I’ve been in a writers drought and that’s not fair to y’all.

Word Count: 10k+

Warnings: Mature/Explict material. Smut from the get go. Talks of self doubt, that maybe be triggering. Sacrilegious themes. And everyone knows I have the dirtiest mouth and curse like a sailor.

Summary: You’ve been hooking up with Chase, secretly, since he moved to Ipswich. After a series of misunderstandings and even worse, miscommunications, you find yourself emerged in the dark underworld of Ipswich.

I wanna be your lover, I don't wanna’ be your friend. You don’t know what you got til’ it’s gone my dear, so tell me that you love me again- Noah Cyrus, Again.

-One Month Ago-

You whimper as your thick thighs lock around Chase’s lithe waist, his hips moving- plowing fast, your whole body swaying with his effort. 

“Oh god, oh fuck- Chase” You cry, one of your hands taloning at his shoulder and the other looking for purchase in the leather interior of his fancy car. At first, the narrow bench of a backseat had been daunting but the two of you had made due.

“You feel so good for me baby, shit, so tigh” He coos into the soft skin of your neck where he’s nuzzled his face. Where his hot panting breaths scold your flesh.

Baby. Oh, the way he says it…

It makes you clench around him and let out a sob as you feel a rush of adoration surge through you. The way he’s got you held in his big arms, your body feeling small in a way that was usually so foreign to you was hypnotic. Addicting. Felt so good that it still shocked you. 

You’d never known sex could be like this. That someone could be so animalistic, so passionate and yet so tender. Chase pulls his head from it’s place to look at you, his powder blue eyes enveloped by his dark, blown pupils.

He loves the way you look when your getting fucked. Your hair a mess around your flushed hot face. Your eyes wild and needy little sounds pouring like a river from your swollen mouth.

Your stare is desperate as his eyes that gleam like molten silver in the dark car fixes on you.

He has you at that point, the one where you know only he’ll be able to quell the almost terrifying feeling bubbling inside you.

“It’s okay pretty baby- you’re okay” His voice is soothing, is gentle but his thrusts aren't. He’s so deep inside of you, it’s almost as if you can feel him in your chest. “Come for me- do it. Fucking do it, Y/N”

He demands, you squeak and both of your arms go to wrap around him, as though he’s anchoring you to this realm.

When you reach your crescendo, its with a wail, your body tightening all over pleasure rushes through your limbs and then crashes over your pelvis in waves.

God, oh god. Only Chase can make you feel like this. Make you go off like a live wire. Make cosmos explode behind eyelids clenched shut so tight it almost hurts.

His hips start to stutter and you feel him go taught, his lips crashing to yours and kissing all the air from your lungs as he begins to come himself.

Chase is loud during his throws, you've learned. Vocal- moans and grunts. Broken little curses as his face screws up and he shoots off deep inside of you, nearly crushing you in his vice like embrace as he clings to your body for dear life. A tether in his sea of bliss.

When you both come down, he relaxes himself on top of you, lets himself be cradled by you, your pillow like curves welcoming. He doesn't release his hold of you either.

His head is resting on your bosom, and your fingers are training through his thick, messy mane. Fingertips massaging his scalp in a way that has him purring as he lazily laps at one of your large, puffy nipples.

It makes your back arch and you push him away “Fuck, stop!”

“Why?” That ever present mischievous glint in his eye is back, full forced “Feel too good? Is Miss ‘let’s go another round’ worn out?”

It makes you feel overheated, flustered and maybe a bit shy- and look away from him. Your sexuality, and its insatiable nature, was still pretty new to you. Still taboo and a little embarrassing, even though you know it shouldn't be.

“Hey” Chase untucks one of his arms from under you, so that he can grab your chin, grip it in that way he knows you love and make you look at him. “Hey, don't get like that. I love that you love to fuck- you know I do”

You roll your eyes, but you can't help the grin that stretches across your face.

He makes you feel so wanted.

“Well I think three orgasms is my max for the night. Especially in this car- fuck, could this back seat be anymore uncomfortable? I think your seatbelt buckle stabbed my spine”

At that Chase lets out a deep belly laugh and shakes his head as he leans up, his now limp member sliding out of you. You wince a shaky little sound escapes as you feel his seed dribble out from between your legs where you now gape, due to his rough fucking. You feel empty and a soiled and fuck, you hate this part.

Chase presses kisses to your cheekbones and you shake your head, glowering at him with as much heat as you can “You came inside of me again, you humongous prick!”

Again, with that laugh. The one he found himself emitting when you were around “I’m sorry”

He didn't sound sorry at all. He lays back down, after he’s cleaned himself up with his t shirt and nuzzles at your stomach.

You can’t help it, you still get so unsure when ever he goes near your tummy. It isn’t flat, not even a little. It’s big, covered in stretch marks and every guy you’d been with before had gone out of their way to avoid it...yet Chase tends to gravitate towards it. Likes to lay on you and grab at your sides and press kissed all over your middle. Says it’s soft and cute.

Makes you feel vulnerable, opened up to him like you’d never been for anyone else.

“I can tell” You deadpan, the matter of his cum inside you still at hand “I’m serious Chase, what if I get pregnant?”

Imagining a baby with his pretty eyelashes and dimpled cheeks isn't so bad...but imagining your dreams for the future- crushed by a teenage pregnancy? Yeah, not happening.

Your dad’s disappointed glare also flashes through your mind and that has you clenching your thighs and sitting up, totally turned off and dried up.

“Dont worry” Chase cajoles, reaching for you even when you try to slap his hand away “ I promise, we’re good”

For some reason you believe him. He made you feel so safe, and cared for. Adored and happy-

But only when the two of you we’re alone. 

That thought had plagued you ever since that rainy night in the back of his car weeks ago.

Yeah, Chase was friendly enough in public, at school. The two of you we’re chummy, that much was obvious. But he didn't kiss you in front of your classmates, never held your hand or whispered to you just how beautiful he thought you we’re like he did in those moments of solitude.

All you got we’re shared looks and smiles. Friendly hugs and pats on the shoulder-

And lately, well lately you haven't got much of anything. Chase had been distant, spending all of his time with is “new best friends” aka the “Sons of Ispwich and co”- co being their girlfriends. One of which you’d watched flirt with him like crazy mere months before. You clearly remember the looks Kate had given across the bonfire at the Dells.

Ever since the ‘Fall Fest’ and the whole debacle of Putnam barn burning to the ground- Caleb harrowingly saving both Chase and Sarah from a fiery death, it seemed he was attached at the hip to the raven haired ‘Son’.

You tried your hardest not to be jealous. He was making friends, and that was good right? You shouldn't be a bitter bitch about it, right?

But why was he ignoring you... Blowing you off at every turn? The two of you hadn't slept together in a month and a half- hadnt gotten together to hang out and share a spliff in his car, or taken the long night time drives that had turned into something like a lullaby to you.

The low hum of the radio and Chase behind the wheel was hypnotic and you longed for that sense of contentment. As though the world around you, outside of the car was null and void and only you and Chase and the little bubble the two of you created existed.

But every time you tried to get a hold of him, reached out- you got the same answer. He was busy.

Chase: I’m sorry, babes. Maybe another time? I’m really busy right now.

Mostly all of the texts you’d received from him lately looked similar and honestly your spirits we’re past dampened.

You we’re bummed as hell.

Because you really liked him, and yet he seemed to be shaping up to be like every other guy you’d ever encountered. The cycle that you’d been through various times seemed to be repeating itself with him and it honestly terrified you.

You we’re his secret.

The girl who was pretty enough have sex with, to lavish attention on in private- but too fat to claim in public. You just weren't desirable, you’d deduced a long time ago.

You were not what guys wanted- at least not to the world.

Through Dm’s and texts- mobilized and in the shadows? Yeah, you got hit on all the time. You were fully aware you had a “pretty” face. But bringing the big girl out and around your friends? No teenage boy your age had grown the balls needed to claim someone like you.

And now he was probably sick of you. Over the little “tryst” and trying to let you down gently.

It hurts so fucking bad, even though you try to deny it. To go about it as though you we’re okay, with smiles and jokes. Ignoring the ice prick like pain in your stomach all the while.

Your friends can see right through it though.

Fall had come swift to the small New England town of Ipswich, painting it in hues of golden amber and rust, leaving everything feeling homey and quaint...

And cold- the chill seemed to have swirled in with the wind and the mornings were frosted with frozen dew.

The first snowfall would be any day now.

But for now, nature was content with rain. The frigid kind that was practically snow, but seemed to melt before it hit the ground and just left everything soggy and freezing. The walk through campus from the dorms to the main building, though it short, was torturous and you found yourself longing for the warmth of your bed long into third period.

You we’re already grouchy- the cold plus the early hour had your face stone like. A natural pout etched onto your features. Really, you we’re just resting it, but you’d been told that it looked like you we’re plotting serial murders when you weren't smiling.

How exhausting. Being expected to wear a smile all the time, in the hopes of appeasing people.

The day goes on as it usually does;  droningly. Your eyes droopy as you listen to your professors, as your hands seem to work of their own accord to scribe out notes. It’s utterly mundane, normal-

You we’re longing for something to break the mold. To rip you from your funk-

Until you over hear something that makes your heart sink into your chest...lower and lower until you’re scared it might fall out of your ass and onto the linoleum floor of the girls bathroom you’re in and you curse yourself for not accepting mundane.

You had just been minding your own business, emptying your bladder before study hall, when Kira Snider and Coco Lindell had walked in.

“I’m so done with Aarons shit- he’s such of good for nothing dick. You heard his father's firm going under? Didn't you?” That was Kira, the naisaly quality of her voice distinct.

“Psht” Coco had said back “His father's firm? More like a bunch of half cocked DA’s who got a decent loan and thought they we’re going to make it big. Their biggest client was some mayor- in Jersey. Pshtttt, bitch”

You had smirked silently, but felt a little odd listening into their conversation from behind a restroom stall. You felt  like a creep but you’d waited too long now- might as well just continue to wait it out until they left.

You regret it, sorely. Wish you would have gotten up and out the moment they’d come in because their conversation soon turned to Chase- and you'd been forced to listen to them talk about the guy you’d been gaga over since the day you’d met him.

Your heart being ripped to shreds with each word spoken from their painted mouths-

“He looks like such a good fuck. Like you can just tell. Boys with baby faces usually are packing the biggest-”

“Coco!”

“What? I’m serious. You should totally fuck him when he takes you out this weekend. Prove me right”

-In silence. On the toilet, a hand clasped over your mouth to keep in the sounds that so desperately tried to escape your throat.

When they’d finally left the bathroom, completely unaware of you and the breakdown they’d caused- you’d exited the stall, catching a glimpse of your mascara tear stained cheeks in the mirrors.

It made your stomach roll and you'd ran the sink, using folded up damp paper towels in an attempt to wipe away the evidence of your heartache.

Your furious scrubbing at your eyes had left you appearing racoonish for the rest of the day. 

“You look especially pleasant today” Adrian says as he sits down at the chair across from you at the table you’d found in the crowded library.

It just takes one glance, your big eyes meeting his for what seemed like to seconds for him to frown, his playful atmosphere instantly turning more serious, curious.

“Are you okay? What happened?”

He really did know you too well- which was to be expected considering the eleven year friendship you shared. He was your best friend, the person who knew you better than anyone. And of course he’d been privy to your “situationship” with Chase. Hell, he’d been there when you’d met the guy-

So as you pour out the details of what you’d over heard; of Kira and her rebound with Chase.

Of the dates they’d been on.

Of how she wanted to sit on his face until he drowned,

how much she loved the same stormy eyes you did.

How they we’re going to the towns annual Thanksgiving parade together. The one that you’d been desperately, pathetically, stupidly, hoping he’d accompany you to.

Adrian absorbs it all, shaking his head. Frowning, his face scrunched up beautifully even though he was so obviously distressed that you seemed to be so devastated about it.

“Bullshit. No way? Kira, really?” He makes a very distasteful gesture with his tongue that looks like a gag “How foul- I thought he had better taste than that”

You just nod, trying to focus on your Psychology paper, on the words. Hoping to distract yourself, even if just a little bit. Just enough to keep you from letting your emotions bubble back up to the surface.

“Listen, boo- I know you like him. Like way more then I think even you realize, but I think you should kick his trifling ass to the curb”

Of course, you shake your head. That was Adrian's logic- life was too short to take bullshit. He’d taken it all throughout his childhood, taken verbal(and physical) beatings for just...being. He’d grown, and was still growing, into someone so unapologetically himself- that he hoped it would one day rub off on you.

“You deserve more then some guy who only calls you to fuck. And yes, said fucking might be amazing, but is it worth it? Worth getting blown off and feeling like garbage? Have some sense of self worth, Y/N” He could also be blunt, so blunt people mistook it for rude.

And sometimes, he was rude.

“Fuck you” You shoot at him at that. Already defensive and raw from the bathroom debacle “I do have self worth”

“I’d hope so! You’re an amazing person- and yeah, I might be biased but if vaginas were my thing I’d totally make you a 50’s breeding machine house wife” He says casually “I just don’t get it- Kira? Why?”

“Why wouldn't he? She’s everything guys like him want”

“Which is what, pray tell?” Adrian folds his arms on the table and gives you a serious look.

“Well she’s rich as shit, there’s a starter” You point out and he rolls her eyes, but he can't deny you there. Kira is rich as shit. Her father owned dozens upon dozens of car dealerships.

Sleazy ran in the family apparently.

“What is he into other then that? Her faulty nose job that makes her look like Will Ferrell?”

You snort. Usually neither of you were the type to tear on your fellow woman- but Kira was a special case. Venomous and vain and out rightly nasty, you really didn't have anything nice to say about her other then the face that she wasn't as stupid as people painted her to be, and-

“She’s what all guys want; thin and pretty and white. Of course he’d go after her, Adrian” you let it out with a sigh, defeated sounding.

And even though Adrian spends the rest of the hour lecturing you on self love, and how wrong societies form of “european beauty being the norm” was, all things you knew, you felt torn down and tired for the rest of the day, battling the Friday afternoon, more than ready for the weekend that you knew you’d most likely spend the entirety of moping. 

You see Chase, standing with his friends- flocked at the benches outside after the school day is over.

He smiles at you- waving.

Looking friendly and open, as though he hadn't been treating you like utter shit. Betraying you- using you as a quick fuck while he took other girls on dates. Leading you to believe that maybe, just maybe he liked you...all the while pursuing Kira.

You just frown, hard, at him for a fraction of a second, not waving back or acknowledging him before you turn to your friends. Walking away, leaving him feeling a little confused at your reaction.

“Rejected” Reid sniggers, all of them having seen the exchange and Chase glares at him, but accepts the hash pen from the blonds nimble fingers.

“That was weird. Y/N is always so friendly” Sarah interjects, leaning against Caleb “I was actually just talking to her during first period and she seemed fine?”

Chase shrugs, tries to physically shake it “I don't know”

“She’s cute” Tyler chimes and funny, it’s the one called “baby boy” by all who always seems to be the most mature. Who doesn't care that he could be ridiculed for calling the fat girl cute “Arent the two of you still messing around?”

Chase doesnt like this, this conversation that circled around him. He’d been raised to be secretive and it all made him uncomfortable.

“She has a nice ass- of course he’s still talking to her” Pogue deduces and Kate just nods in agreement before adding, “Kardashian fat without the needles. Lucky bitch”

God, those two had the oddest relationship.

Conversation soon drifts from talks of you, but his mind doesn't. Swirling thoughts of your frown, of the way your eyes that were usually clear and bright had clouded...and then hardened in a way he’d never seen.

He knows something is wrong when later that night he shoots you a text, and you dont reply. Not fifteen minutes later. Not an hour-

After three hours he realizes he’s not getting a reply and he falls into a restless sleep. 

Saturdays’ chaotic all day, the Covenant meeting with Caleb's uncle who also happened to be the towns mayor. There was a demon, another one, on the loose that needed to be taken care of. That leads to the rest of the day being bled away in the Danvers family carriage houses’ basement which doubles as an ancient witchcraft filled library.

Its like homework, more stacked on top of his already towering pile from school. He reads ancient texts until his eyes cross and they’re all begging Caleb to have mercy on them and give them a fucking break.

He’s been texting you all day. Or at least trying to. He hasn't been able to get a hold of you- all of his messages opened and read, and yet left unreplied

Chase: Hey:)

Chase: I feel like I haven't hung out with you in forever, I’m starting to miss you

Chase: I know your starting to miss me too

Chase: ? Y/N?

He’s composing his fifth text of the last few hours when Caleb shakes his head.

“What?” Chase snaps at him. He could be so condescending sometimes and it always set off Chase’s temper.

“She still hasn't replied to you yet? What did you do to her?”

Caleb's voice always has that...sage quality to it. Like he’s going to help you fix all your problems and it, too, drives Chase crazy. Like his newfound “brothers” felt the need to baby him. God forbid he loose it and try to steal everyone else's powers again.

“I didn't do anything” Chase hisses at him and that earns him chuckles from all the men in the circular, dungeon like basement.

“Translation: I totally fucked up and I just don't know where yet” Pogue teases “Tell her your sorry, give her a coupe orgasms and order pizza and she’ll start to get over it...What? It always works with Kate”

Chase frowns at that. You weren't Kate though, didn't love drama. You’d just tell him if you were upset, wouldn’t you? Communication was your key- what you seemed to thrive on.

“She’s not like that- She’d tell me if I’d pissed her off”

There's groans, and chuckles and “Aw man’s” at his statement and Chase is starting to hate this whole having coven assigned brothers thing already.

“No, she’s a woman, dude. It doesn't matter, this is just how they tick. You’ve gotta’ suck it up and apologize- not just with head and pizza” Caleb interrupts his advice by giving Pouge a pointed look “but by really talking to her- I mean, that is if it’s worth it to you. If you’re really into her”

And Chase is. He knows he is. He also knows that his life has been taken over by the supernatural and he hasn't gotten to spend a lot of time with you as of late, but that last night in his car seemed to be on a loop in his head.

He missed your fingers in his hair and they way that you made him laugh.

Chase pursed his lips and shrugged and Caleb rolls his eyes and goes back to his research.

“Real shit, girls really aren't that complicated. All they want is to feel valid. Like they matter, like they’re not getting screwed over or played stupid and honestly- you’ve been spending so much time with us lately that I highly doubt you’ve spent any with her.

And on top of that, you treat her like she's just a homie at school- you’re so frigid with her that you might as well fist bump her next time you see her.

I wouldn't have any idea the two of you fuck around if we weren't friends, you keep it that low key. So yeah, wouldn't you get pissed?” That sonnet, that explanation of the female perspective comes from none other then Reid Garwin. He really wasn't the fuck boy womanizer everyone thought he was...or maybe he was- but he had a gooey center. Romantic as fuck at heart.

Cupid in the flesh.

The guys all stare at him for a moment, silent and big eyes. Like what he was saying was more complex and harder to grasp then the Ancient texts they were reading.

“But pizza helps too, I swear” Pogue is an idiot.

And apparently so is Chase. 

His texts, and then calls, go unanswered all weekend, and he’s not used to the rock like lumps he feels in his throat everytime he picks up his phone and sees that it has no notifications. Your name void from the screen of the device.

Even though he knows you have your phone in hand. He checks your snapchat and spots that you’re out with your friends, dinner and a movie. Joking and smiling and fine…

When he tries to check your other social medias, see if your Facebook(and he hasn't even logged on to the app in weeks, since his life had turned into a real life episode of ghost adventures) had any clue to as why you seemed to be pissed at only him, he’s gobsmacked to learn that you’ve unfriended him.  He stares at the ‘Add friend’ element on your page until his eyes burn, trying to ignore the way he feels like he’d been slapped across the face.

His confusion turns into haughty anger. Because he’s Chase fucking Collins and girls had always flocked to him. And he really thought the two of you had some sort of...he doesn't know. Psychic bond? He’d never talked to any girl like he talked to you. Never came as hard as he did when he was inside of your tight, wet cunt.

The thought of you and your sex makes his eyes roll into the back of his head and he bites the top of his phone case as he thinks about it. About how much he misses your soft body. The round belly he loved to cradle- your breasts. Huge and welcoming and perfect to bury his face in when the world was just too much for him. Your thighs that you hated but that he loved to slide between-

When a chirp comes from his phone he has it pulled up close to his face at a shamefully fast pace, hoping that you’d finally come around. That this had all just been some weird misunderstanding and-

His spirits fall and his lips pull down into a frown as soon as he sees the name on the screen.

Fuck, he hisses, annoyed.

He should have never given his number to Kira at that party a few weeks ago. But he’d been drunk and she’d been so flirty and...well, he was a teenage boy. He never claimed to be perfect. Actually, he was far from it.

Kira was hot, no doubt. Redheaded and petite...but she was annoying as fuck an had a mean streak that made his look miniscule. He really wasn't interested and she didn't seem to get that. He kept running into her everywhere, and it was a rare day that he didn't get some kind of message from her.

Tonights was her offering up a midnight meetup-

Kira: I’m lonely. Let’s hang out later? I stay up late ;)

Chase frowns. Yeah, his dick is already stirring, and hasnt been touched since almost a month ago- but the idea of having late night hangouts with anyone but you is almost sacrilegious to him. He couldn't. He wouldn't...late nights in Ipswich we’re for long drives with you, blunts burning and conversations flowing. They were therapeutic and happy…

And fuck he missed you so much.

“If that’s worth it to you” he hears Caleb’s voice in his head “If you’re really into her”

And Chase has known that he’s liked you since...well pretty much since he met you but this feeling he gets is something different.

He really...he really needs to get a hold of you.

He sends you a few more messages, completely ignoring Kira’s in turn, and when he doesn't get a reply- just like he expected he wouldn't, he’s jumping up from his bed, rummaging for his shoes and his keys.

The weekend had been brutal for you.

You hadn't really realized just how deeply your feelings ran for Chase until they had been stomped on, and your heart felt achy and strained. You’d spent all friday night sobbing, happy that Reyna, your roommate had a little kick back to attend so that you could sob your heart out in peace.

“Are you sure? I can stay?” She had always been so sweet, and you we’re happy as hell to be rooming with someone you not only could stand, but actually liked.

You’d sniffled, eyes red rimmed and forced a smile that looked more like a painful grimace.

“No, please. One of us needs to get cute and have a good time tonight. Go- have fun. I’ll be fine. Really”

You we’re far from fine. You’d never really cried yourself to sleep before; life had been kind enough to you in your young years that you didn't feel the need to-

Movies romanticize that shit, intensely. There’s always the pretty heroine main character who gets her heart broken, sobs herself to sleep and then in the morning is fine-

You fell asleep, hard. Stiff. With tears still falling steadily down your cheeks, your neck, and into your shirt. The blankets pulled up over your head.

And woke up feeling like a corpse. Like you had been hit by a motherfucking freight train. Your face was swollen, and your nose stuffy. Your sinuses screamed at you and were congested to hell and back. Your shoulders hurt and as you sat up, wincing at the sunlight your head pounded.

No one ever told you that crying for ten hours straight felt akin to a Mad Dog 20/20 hangover.

Adrian had showed up that day, and along with Reyna and a bucket load of snacks and an order from that new health cafe in towns circle (because you were dehydrated as fuck from crying your body weight in tears. Who knew?)

You slowly started to regain your motor skills after your body is filled with green juice and poppyseed bagel.

Still, your head was laid in Adrians lap and you made him feed your favorite flavored pringles.

Your phone had been steadily beeping all day, and each was a new text from Chase. At first you refused to even look at them, trying your hardest to zone them out, but then curiosity got the best of you. The need to see what he had to say overpowering you.

He’s so nonchalant it makes you mad. Furious. Stabs of anger over the already painful throws of betrayal caused the pain you're feeling.

He tells you he misses you, and that he knows you miss him and your upper lip curls.

“He’s such a fucking prick” You glare at the texts and Adrian and Reyna share a look.

This is what you did, frequently. You weren't comfortable being sad, depressed...vulnerable. So you raged. Because anger was an emotion you were actually comfortable exploring.

And rage you did.

On Chase. On the situation. And then on yourself. Because what a fucking idiot. You’d been so stupid.

You do petty, irrational things like unfriend him on facebook and erase the couple pictures of the two of you you had on instagram.

You can't bring yourself to go through with deleting the picture that you’d snapped in his car.

It was a dark night and the two of you had drove to the middle of nowhere; you'd managed to get an aesthetically pleasing picture of the burning blunt, the bottom of Chases handsome smiling face in the background. His perfect jaw and white smile. The dimple in his chin more pronounced than ever.

You hate how much you miss him.

Chase sends you twelve texts and calls you over five times over the course of the next few days but you ignore them all. You almost break, a couple times.

Chase: I know I must have done something wrong? Can you please just answer me so we can figure this out? Please?

And for anything else, you think yeah. Maybe you could have figured it out. You could have figured out the fact that he ignored you for a month. That he blew you off at every turn. That you’d sucked up your pride and all but begged for even ten minutes of his time, just to have him deny you.

You could have figured out the fact that he was keeping you a secret. That he pretended he hadn’t had his tongue in your pussy when you were at school- that you two were just good friends.

But Kira? Him messing with other girls? While he ignored you….

It was just too much. You’d taken too many blows to your self worth and you couldn't do it anymore.

Adrian and Reyna are godsent and make it their responsibility to keep you busy. Force you to shower and get ready; even if it is only a sweatshirt and a pair of furry slides. You go see the new Seth Rogen movie and eat at your favorite little mediterranean place in the town over, the one where Adrian gets flirty enough with the waiter and scores you guys a couple rounds of house blend margaritas.

You didn't want to do anything in Ipswich, for fear of seeing him.

The weekend actually goes by quickly. Too quick. You dread school on monday where your avoidance of Chase will inevitably be harder. Where you’ll see Kiras smarmy face in your Biology class and think about the two of them and what they spent their “date” doing. 

Sunday night is calm.

You and Reyna are pressed together in her bed. Lounding and draped in plush blankets as your laptop that is propped up by pillows plays episodes of Game of Thrones. Somehow your friend had fallen behind, and you being the huge nerd you were, were more than willing to catch up on the season she’d missed.

Your phone chimes, but it’s across the room on your desk and you figure it’s either a Facebook notification or another bullshit message from Chase so you ignore it. It’s getting late anyway, and you’re far too comfortable and warm to get up and journey over to check it.

About a half an hour later when you hear quiet knocking at your door you and Reyna both look at eachother, the light from the laptop and the noise of a gory battle in the background.

“It’s like 11:30” she announces the obvious and you fight the urge to roll your eyes as you get up and pad over to see who it is.

Probably Brenda- the hall manager of the floor. She could be a little neurotic and take her “job” a little too seriously. Probably making her rounds, a second time to make sure lights are out.

You step up on your tiptoes to peak out of the small window like port above the door and what you see causes your whole body to freeze up.

The air in your lungs gets stuck and you literally go immobile. Eyes wide and your mouth falling open, before you crouch down- hoping to not be seen in the foggy glass panes.

“Y/N! Who is it? What’s going on?” Your actions had sparked fear in Reyna who jumps up and hurried beside you. You really needed to stop letting her watch all those serial killer documentaries with you.

“It’s Chase” you whisper frenziedly to her, from the ground.

“Chase?! Oh my god, he’s here?!” Why does she sound a little excited? Wonder mixing in with her shock.

Also, why the hell is she so loud?

“Yes! Shut the fuck up! Shut up!” You glare up at her, slicing your finger to your mouth as you signal for her to be quiet.

She shakes her head , but at least now she speaks in a whisper “Y/N, he knows your here. We have to answer. I’ll answer it-”

“No!” You shake your head.

“Yes- go like hide and i’ll say you’re not here and-”

You just keep shaking your head.

Maybe he’d leave? You knew he knew you were here, but maybe he’d think the two of you we’re asleep and he’d go and you wouldn't be forced to face him-

“You guys do know I can hear you right? These walls are paper thin” Chase’s deep, even voice sounds from outside the door and another wash of dread makes you close your eyes. This was NOT happening.

“Y/N...please just talk to me” He sounds so...forlorn. Tired. Pleading. It physically hurts to hear his voice.

“I think you should hear him out. Or I mean, at least say what you need to say to him” Reyna advises, her honey eyes comforting as she urges you to do what you know you need to “Plus he’s going to wake up Brenda and get us all demerits and I am not down for detention”

You sigh. Knowing she’s right. You we’re going to have to put on your big girl panties and face the guy who had tap danced on your heart, and although it sucked, you didn't really have another option.

You wanted to crawl into bed and bury yourself under your comforter, but instead you stood up, trying to straighten your old, oversized sweater.

You’d imagined confronting Chase a lot in the past few days- but none of those fantasies where you we’re a boss bitch and told him how badly he’d fucked up included you being in your favorite pair of flamingo pajama pants.

You took a deep breath and opened the door, cracked it really, to where only with half of your body visible as you peeked out into the dark hallway.

Chase was standing there. Hands in his pockets, looking at you with those blue eyes that seemed to catch all of the residual light in the corridor. He looked...tired. His body seeming to both tense and relax as you came into view.

“Uh...Hi” He greets softly, the side of his mouth pulling up. Yours stays in a frown.

“Chase? What are you doing here? It’s after curfew-” you start in, your tone unamused, crossed.

“I know, I’m sorry. I just didn't know how else to get a hold of you” He interupts, trying in vain to quell your annoyance “I really needed to talk to you”

“I really dont think there’s anything we need to talk about” At your words his face contorts up. In confusion, and blatant hurt.

“What? Y/N, what the fuck is going on? I think we have a fuck lot to talk about, actually. How about the fact that you’ve ignored my messages all weekend?” His voice is raising, and you sush him. He really is about to wake up your dorm supervisor and you tell him so.

Chase sighs, he’s not going to wake up anyone. He’d put a concealment charm on the entirety of the hall- save your room of course. No one could hear anything going on outside their rooms at the moment.

But of course he can't tell you that. There's so much he can't tell you and he hates it.

“Okay fine. You’re so worried I’m gonna wake someone up? Let's go for a drive, we can talk in my car…” He knows he’s going out on a limb even asking you that but he cant help how badly he hopes you’ll say yes.

He begs whatever celestial deities there may be that you’ll agree. Because fuck, he didn't realize how much he missed you. Your hair is messy and undone and your face is free of makeup and you look so damn soft in your pajamas...at least what he can see of you.

You’re still peeking out from behind your door.

You shake your head and look down “I can't”

“Why not?” He’s got that edge to his voice again. That one that’s near pleading “Y/N...I promise we’ll just talk, and drive. And maybe smoke a little bit- but that’s all, okay?”

You knew what he was saying. That he didn't come here for sex, because most of the time that’s what you’re late night drives lead to.

You really want to say no. You wish you were strong and resilient. Like Adrian. You wish you were the bad ass woman you we’re in your head, that you could tell him no and slam the door in his face and be done with it.

But you’re not, you’re just a teenage girl and you huff, tell him to wait a minute as you grab a jacket and slip on a pair of moccasins and tell Reyna you’ll be back soon.

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” She wonders as your shuffling into your shoes.

“No”, but you grab your phone and M.K purse anyway. 

You end up in Chases passenger seat as he drives down the winding back roads, and it’s somewhere you’ve been so many times and yet...it feels so different tonight.

You keep your arms folded over your chest, leaning against the door, as far away from him as possible. Wondering why the fuck you’d come with him in the first place.

The vents blow out warm air and music plays softly from the sprakers, and yet the atmosphere couldn't be more frigid.

You hadn't spoken more than one word answers to him since your room and now you weren't speaking at all. He’s taken aback by just how mad you are at him. You’d never been so cold to him and he really doesn't know how to manage it.

He lets you stew in your silence until he pulls up at a clearing in the trees. It faces a little field and can't be seen from the main road. The two of you had found it a couple months ago when school had started.

He stops the car, shifting the gear into park. His hands are still on the wheel, gripping it anxiously as he tries to figure out what exactly to say to you.

“I uh- I’m sorry” That seems like the right thing to say, but you just scoff and tighten your arms around yourself.

“I really am. I know I’ve been distant lately and that hasn't been fair to you...but I wasn't doing it because I’m not interested in you, or seeing you, anymore”  Chase sounds nervous, and it’s a far cry from his usaul cock sure dispositon “My life has just gotten really...fucking messy and I didnt mean to make you feel like I didn't want you in it anymore”

You can't help it, something in you snaps. He really is a fucking piece of work, really thinks he can play you. “Want me in your life? How? Like this” You gesture to the car, to the darkened woods outside “Calling me up in the middle of the night and fucking me in the woods when your bored and horny? I get it, you’re ashamed of me. You’re not the first guy whose don't this shit to me, but I’m done”

“I’m not ashamed of you, Y/N” He tries to reach for you, your words making him wince, but you pull away from him. Shaking your head, vehemently.

“No don't. Don't say that. Don't lie to me anymore. You are ashamed. Fucking the fat girls not good for your reputation, right? No. No I get it. I wouldn't want to embarass you in front of your friends” there  are unshed tears in your eyes and your voice keeps breaking, straining as you try to keep from letting them fall “Why don't you just keep screwing around with Kira and leave me alone”

There is so much there for Chase to digest that he doesn't know where to start.

“First off, don't say that shit. I’m not embarrassed of you, and I could give a flying fuck about my reputation” He spits the word incredulously. You had no idea just how bad his “reputation” really was. No idea the horrible shit he’d done. He couldn't care less about what his school yard peers thought of him.

“And secondly screwing with Kira? What? I barely know her”

“That’s great. So you’re fucking some girl you barely know...I let you inside of me without a condom, Chase. I never do that! You know you’re the only one I’ve ever done that with and now I’m-” you take a pause, to breathe through your nose in an attempt to calm down “Now I’m a little freaked out about what you could have given me”

Again, he feels like you’ve slapped him. Fuck. How is it that you’re able to wound him, by doing so little?

“I couldn't give you anything because I haven't been with anyone since we started fucking” He’s upset. It shows, he sounds pissed and you hate it.

But also...a sick part of you loves it.

Good. You hope he’s feeling even a fraction of the bad you’ve been feeling for weeks.

“You dont have to bullshit me, I already know about you and Kira, no thanks to you. It’s whatever at this point”

“There is no me and Kira so whatever you think you know is false. And whoever you’re getting your information from has fucking sucky intel” He hates this small town and this tiny school full of gossiping simpletons.

Was this why you we’re so upset with him? Because you thought he had something going with Kira?

“Actually I heard it from Kira herself so one of you is obviously lying” You’re defensive still. Unbelieving and closed up.

“And you really think it’s me who's lying? After everything? I’ve told you things I’ve never told anyone else...and you think I’d look you in the face and lie to you about Kira fucking Snider?” Chase’s own voice cracks, he’d told you about his childhood. About his shitty abusive adoptive father.

It makes you bite your bottom lip, hard.

You don't know what to think. How to feel. What to believe. So you tell him about what you’d overheard in the bathroom, not sparing any details and he listens in pure disgust.

He can tell you dont believe him and that really sucks. Really hurts him. “I’d believe you over anyone. Anytime. You wouldn't even have to say anything- I’d never take someone else's word over yours”

“That’s so unfair! And you know it” You’re trying to stay mad, you really are, but the tears in your eyes that are starting to leak aren't from anger “You basically ignore me for over a month, and okay your life's been stressful, but I’ve been here. Begging you to open up to me. What am I supposed to think, Chase? I know you don't want to be with me...you make that obvious enough. But I feel...you make me feel...so much”

For as eloquent as you usually are, you can't manage the words. Can’t form the sentences. Are there even words, for what you feel when you’re around him?

“I’m sorry, baby. Please don't cry” He whispers as he reaches for you once more. This time you don't yank away, but you also don't melt into his embrace like you usually do.

You’re stiff, as you harsly wipe at your face. Smearing the tears away as they fall.

His own eyes sting at seeing you like this. “I don't want Kira- I don't want anyone else but you”

You squeeze your eyes closed and he gives your thigh a reassuring rub “I do want to be with you Y/N. There’s nothing about you that I’m ashamed of”

“Bullshit” You hiccup. It’s honestly easier for you to believe that he was screwing Kira then that he wanted to be with you.

“Why? Why do you say that?”

“Because guys like you don't end up with girls like me. This is real life and that’s just not fucking possible” You croak the words and he sighs.

He knows, although you really do keep a pretty good lid on it, the self doubt you harbor. The way you see yourself...how conscious you are of you body. Of everything about yourself.

“Girls like you?” It’s a rhetorical question and you huff and try to push his hand off your thigh. He barely budged.

“Yeah, Chase. Girls like me”

“I’m not...Kira. Or Kate or Sarah. I’m…” You choke on the words.

Fat.

Ugly.

Unwantable.

Embarrassing.

“Sexy? Funny?” Chase supplements and you shake your head and stare out of the inky window. You cant hear this. Can't accept it. It makes hysteria rise in your chest.

Chase makes a sound in his throat and reaches over the console, so that he can press closer to you. “Smart as shit? Sweet as candy...you are Y/N. You’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met. Way to fucking good for someone like me...but I’ll take it. I want it. Fuck, I want it so bad. I miss you. I miss the way you sound when you’re begging for it”

You can’t help it. His words, he so good with his words. He makes you feel like you’re floating when he talks to you like this. Your head leans over and he presses his face into your hair. You can feel his little hot puffs of air  in the sensitive shell of your ear.

“I missed you” you whimper in admittance. It had been so long since he’d been this close.

That seems to sober him up a little, clear his horny eighteen year old mind.

He sighs.

“I missed you too...but my life...is all fucked up right now. I wasn’t kidding about that”

You turn to face him, grabbing the hand that’s on your knee. Lacing his fingers with your own much shorter, plumper ones.

“Talk to me about it” you urge, gently. In that beautiful, silk-soft cadence of yours, the one that comes out for the the first time since you’ve been upset with him and it makes a part of him light up inside.

And then he sighs. Deeply. His head bowing a bit.

“I can’t”

“Why not? We talk about everything, Chase?” Your brows scrunch together as you squeeze his hand.

“Not this...I can't get you involved in this. It’s dangerous and...I don’t want to ruin you”

“Ruin me? What do you mean? I don’t understand”

Ruin you, he thinks. Ruin your perception of the world. Make you aware of the monsters that lived under your bed- of the darkness that crept in the shadows.

He just clenches his jaw so hard his teeth hurt and you hum and reach up to thumb at the flexing muscle in his cheek.

He looks at you and you drown in pools of argent blue.

“You’re so pure- no I’m serious. So good, Y/N. You don’t even know how- don’t even realize. And I don’t want to fuck things up for you l-I. We both know I’m good at doing that…” he gives a small, self deprecating laugh and you frown.

You really don’t understand what he’s trying to tell you.

“You’re good, too” he snorts and you persist “You are. You’re so good to me- even when I doubt you. You’re- you’ve been better to me then any guy has. Ever”

He reaches over then, closing the distance and pressing his lips to yours. It’s chaste, but sweet like syrup and you savor the feeling of his plush mouth against yours.

“You deserve all the good things, Y/N. But I am literally the opposite of good” He tells you as he pulls away, mouth still close enough to yours that you feel the words rather than hear them.

“I don’t understand why you think that”

“If you knew what I was...what we are, you’d understand why I’m not good. Why I’ll never be” He curses himself, he know he shouldn’t be telling you any of this but he can’t help it.

You’re like a beacon in the dark and he’s a moth to the flame. He loses all sense when it comes to you. It’s terrifying as it is thrilling.

“What we are? Who are you talking about? You’re acting like you’ve joined a cult or something” You search his face for any clue as to what in the fuck he’s going on about and then prices start coming together. Slowly but surely.

“But then again you kind of have, huh? You’ve been spending a lot of time with the Sons lately”

Chase can’t help but chuckle as he pulls back, rubbing a hand across his forehead “And you are way too fucking smart”

“I’m still lost though? What does you being “bad” have to do with them? And why are they bad? Stuck up and a little pretentious? Yeah. But bad?”

He shouldn’t have said anything. He knows he shouldn’t. Knows that now, there’s no way you’ll let it drop and that either he can tell you what’s going on or you’ll dig until you find it out on your own…

But maybe he always wanted to tell you. They’d told Kate and Sarah? And countless others who could be trusted over the years. Why couldn’t you know? Why couldn’t he have someone who made him feel a little less lonely in this underworld he lived in.

He turns to look at you “Y/N, I have to tell you something. And you’re not going to believe me- and you may flip shit...but I don’t want to keep secrets from you anymore”

You nod slowly, not knowing just what you were in for “Okay, it’s okay, Chase. You can tell me”

And he’s just about to-

When suddenly an inhuman screech cuts through the air. It sounds feral, animalistic- like nothing you had ever heard. Your brain has no picture to put with that sound, and your head snaps in the direction of the field. Searching for the cause of such can a horrible, eerie wail. In the distance, there’s a figure. It looks like some sort of goat…

But then it stands up straight on two legs. It has to be more than 6 feet tall- and its eyes are glowing bright red. Like two tiny pools of fire in the darkness.

“Oh shit” Chase curses as he starts his car, and he’s slamming his foot down and sending the car flying into reverse before you can even comprehend what’s going on.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck” he curses as he swings the car into drive then and presses the gas pedal as hard as he can, the car lurching forward as the tires squeal.

You are sufficiently freaked out, to say the very least. Your heart is pumping fast and fear is shooting through you.

“Chase?! Chase what’s going on? And what the ever loving fuck was that” You hold on to the the armrest with one hand and the roof handle with the other as you squeal at him.

Chase is pushing 90 and it doesn’t seem like he’s going to slow down- if anything he’s going faster.

“It’s okay. Everything’s going to be fine” he tries to calm you down because he can hear the trepidation in your voice.

Really, it should be okay.

They’d found both a spell and a brewed a potion to vanquish the demon- but this wasn’t how he wanted to tell you. This is exactly what he had been dreading.

Bringing you into situations like this.

“Oh really?! You’re going like 100 miles per hour and I just saw...some kind of fucking creature in the field back there, right after we were talking about cults nonetheless. I’m not really feeling like everything’s fine right now. I’m actually feeling like everything’s the opposite of fine! Holy fuck that think had red eyes, Chase!”

“I’m a witch!” Chase Collins had always been bad with timing, and well- that hadn’t ever changed.

Time seems to go still and quiet as you try to process exactly what he just said. You’re not even breathing really.

“You’re a what?” Is all you can choke out.

“A witch- warlock actually. If we’re being technical”

It’s in his voice. You can tell he’s not fucking with you, that he’s dead serious. Although you have a very open mind and believe in all sorts of things...Chase being a warlock?

Your Chase? A magical being?

“I-“

“I’m sorry I’ve been awol, and that I’ve been lying to you but real, honest to god shit, is that me and Caleb, who is also a warlock, accidentally opened a hells gate on the night of the fall fest and let out all kinds of fucked up demons and I’ve been busy trying to round them all up and send them back where they came from. I wasn’t ghosting you. I just didn’t know how to tell you about all of this”

What he’s saying is insane. It’s a fast jumbled mess that pours from his lips, a confession he knows he shouldn't make. A truth he has no business telling you.

And yet he is.

“You’re telling the truth” you deduce and he gives you the side eye. A small glare that says ‘why the fuck would I like about this’.

“And that thing?”

“Is a Braxas Demon. They’re lower level- but still nasty fuckers. If you’d reach into the glove box for me” you do as he instructs as he talks “There” he refers to a small vile of bright purple liquid “that’s a vanquishing potion. If it tries to attack us, which I doubt it will, that’ll kill it”

Trying to be calm in situations like the one you’re in is futile. Honestly. Your adrenaline is pumping without your control and your flight or fight has been turned on. You can’t sit still and even though your terrified of what you’ll see you can’t help that you keep looking behind you out of the rear window, expecting to see that...demon in the road.

Chase calls Caleb, relays the information to him and you can only hear bits of it through the rushing of blood in your ears.

“I found it. Or I guess it kind of found me.

Up by hanged man's turn- that field. Yup.

I was driving with Y/N- yes she’s here with me. Yes, she saw it.

I had to tell her! It started to chase us!

Fuck you! You knew Sarah for a week before you spilled the covens secret, so spare me the lecture.

Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s still tailing us.

Okay, I’ll meet you there”

And that was the night your life changed forever. 

@peacefulwriter88 @brieannakeogh @supernovasandcoronas @lostinspace33 @4theluvofall @geekyweed @tatathekissypotato @prettybubblesintheair @jaamesbbarnes @wi-atch @sad-af1121 @paulruddx @gifsbysimplysonia @sgtbootybarnes @shayla-markele

So I’ve had this finished in my drafts for FOREVER and I figured what the hell, I haven’t posted in a while and I thought I’d give you guys a lil something. I don’t know whether I want to keep this as just a little one shot- maybe a collection of one shots? Idk I just really love Chase Collins and the vastly under appreciated and under explored world of The Covenant.

[blacktribbles]

Peaches 🍑 &

Anime Dreams ⭐️

I don’t think many people dream of growing up and living in the same city their entire life. Not being able to see different things outside their own world and limiting their world view. Unfortunately it happens, maybe far too often to count. I hoped and prayed that would never happen to me; as I got older and began to travel a bit more I began to realize how much I love the area I’m in, how much I love the Greater Philadelphia area. However, I promised myself that there are a few cities in the US that I MUST travel to and get a feel for, for when I eventually do leave the area that raised me (inevitable due to future career wants). One of those cities was Atlanta Georgia, and what better reason to go to the state where the players play, and people ride out like everyday, than to go to Momocon and celebrate a special birthday with some friends.

The crew that was riding with me were My homie Mike (aka the Wizard Tribble), his girlfriend Gabe (Director, Producer, and 1 half of the horror podcast “The Ghouls Next Door) and my girlfriend Kat (Producer and the other half of “The Ghouls Next Door). We flew in early Friday morning and hit the ground running when we landed in Atlanta. Things moved quickly in the airport. It was wide open, thoroughly organized with no real confusion, which I was not used to from the Philadelphia airport where pigeons would just sit and claim their spot to a seat right beside you in the airport. There was also this air of safety that honestly rubbed my Philadelphian grit in an odd way but I was very appreciative it was noticed. First time in a new city, the first thing anyone wants is some confirmation of safety.

Once we stepped outside, leaving the comfort of the ATL airport that safeguarded us with AC, we were blessed by the loving and excessive sun. Back home in PA the weather consistently flip flops, unsure of what season it wants to be throughout the day let alone the week. Here in Georgia though, in the city of Atlanta, it was bright and sunny all day and week long with a high of 95 and low of about 63 at night. It felt wonderful knowing that there was going to be a steady weather condition to prepare for. The sun was kissing my skin, invoking the power of my melanin–while burning some of my friends. They enjoyed it all the same luckily.

We arrived early to ATL, early enough to call a ride to the nearby diner to get some good southern breakfast in our systems. From the airport to the diner it felt like we were being taken on a small ATL tour. Passing by us was beautiful scenery, birds chirping, healthy, luscious green trees–adding a perfect amount of nature to the populated urban jungle. The letters GT were everywhere for Georgia Tech. A university that seemed to just keep expanding its territory wherever we roamed. The architecture of the city was sleek, not overly futuristic but reminiscent of Philly. It was modern with some buildings taking a design chance on aesthetics; adding in solar panels, wide open glass roof structures, inverted and curved buildings, the chances taken weren’t over the top and did just enough to stand out. Definitely caught my eye.

We finally arrived at a diner close to where we stayed—Silver Skillet Diner, a place that has hosted the likes of Samuel L. Jackson, and Dave Chappelle to name a few. It’s here that my friends and I are able to take Atlanta in more and notice that yep, this may not be Texas but things sure are thiccer (Yes with 2 C’s) down here in the south. We ordered our meals, with everyone of us making sure to get a bowl of grits–mine as a side to my chicken and waffles. Which, were so crispy yet tender. Only made better by the soft waffles and the sticky sweet syrup to combo it all together perfectly. We finish up and pay our bill. Finally we head to our Airbnb.

We get there and are blown away at the place. Nice balcony, modern furniture with a TV in every room, kitchen is dope and has a beautiful island for us to eat at and lean on. The bathrooms are HUGE and the bedrooms are perfectly fitted for 2. To top it off we had access to a summer lounge area that led to a nice pool and fitness center. Place was so good we had to take a instagram video of it. We were in prime location. Downtown Atlanta, right next to the expressway, walking distance from markets and other restaurants, clothing chains and if we didn’t want to walk we could scooter around wherever we wanted to. Yes, I said scooter around. Not like kick push scooter but motorized. Rideshare companies like Lyft & Uber have motorized scooters you can take by going through the same process as you would by ordering a driver except it’s cheaper and you scan a QRcode to activate the scooter. When you’re finished using it, you hop off, pay and just leave it. Drivers come around later in the day and pick up said scooters and recharge them for later use. It was the strangest but coolest thing to see. Definitely had too much fun bending coroners whipping the scooters like I was in rocket power.

After unpacking and taking more IG photos of our Airbnb, it was time to hit the scene and check out the hype around Momocon. What started out as just a “pick up my badge and go” operation turned into a full storm of fun and adventure. When we arrived at Momocon we took it like any other convention and didn’t pay it much attention, the jaded-ness of being a frequent convention goer showing. That is until we got our badges. We got them, so finally we had access to everything the convention had to offer. We rushed the escalators and slid down the rails to do so again until we reached the convention floor. The choices laid out before were the vendors alley, or the gaming hall. We chose the gaming hall for day one.

A concert of echoing laser sounds, dance taps, sirens, alarms, and winning shouts filled the floor and us with it, enveloped in its energy joined the fray. Game after game we played. Putting our bid to even win some the next day. New friends were made, cosplays were stellar, and I got to chill with one of my favorite Pokémon–Blastoise.

We caught wind of a very rare concert happening that night. One my close friend and I have been dying to see. It was the Bytes & Beats Nujabes Tribute concert featuring the NPC Collective, Richie Branson, Asheru, And our favorites–Substantial and Shing02. If you know anything about great anime then you know about Samurai Champloo. An anime that still stylistically, artistically, and musically, holds up and stands the test of time. Those who watched Samurai Champloo leave with a spirit of hypeness and angsty rebellion. That is if they’re the Mugen type. Those like myself who align more like Jin, feel the counter balance energy of flow. The subtle and instinctual vibrations of being in one's element–just riding the current. One of the biggest things to enjoy about Samurai Champloo is its music. Samurai Champloo had a lot of its music crafted by a Japanese DJ named Nujabes. In my eyes, Nujabes is a god among DJ’s. Shoot, a whole generation of young adults and older can thank him for all the music that inspired if not created the genre of chill-hop & lo-fi.

It was the type of music that could soothe the savage beast, could bring you to this place of perfect concentration like you took the limitless pill. The Beats Nujabes crafted was the type of music that makes you think of the perfect weekend drive by sunset cruising the city blocks or mountain roads or the plains of the countryside–windows down with your one arm doing the free flowing roller coaster motion. That feel good–I’m alive vibe. Then topped with the lyrical stylings of artists like Substantial and Shing02, enhanced everything passed the stratosphere and takes the listener to this otherworldly plain of profound worldly views and humbleness. Even with the uptempo joints it felt like every artist that blessed the track, and Nujabes blessing the beat, it just spoke humble confidence. In short, Nujabes was that dude!

Nujabes collaborated with many artists, but the two that he collaborated with and stood out the most were Substantial and Shing02. He worked on joint albums with both (that are historic for chill-hop culture and must listens) but it was with Shing02 specifically that the two together blessed anime fans worldwide as they collaborated on the intro theme song to Samurai Champloo–Battle Cry. A song so enigmatic that just the utterance of its name begins to make my head bop in rhythmic hip hop fashion. Needless to say, we were going to that damn concert!

It was Friday night, we were in Atlanta, we were looking fly, it’s our first time ever at Momocon and quite possibly our first and only time at this Nujabes tribute concert. We were gonna make sure we had a great fucking time. We did everything possible to make sure we got up close and personal to the stage. I may have stuff-armed a person or two….We made sure to take in all the ambience and to not miss a single beat nor lyric felt or heard. We expected greatness and would be damned if we didn’t have a chance to bear witness to it up close and personal.

The concert began and we were taken to a land of hip hop joy, geek excellence, and a dream fulfilled. The concert started at 11pm and didn’t end till about 3am. For those who waited and held out to the very end like my friends and I were treated to a very special rendition of Battle Cry. A new version with verses from every artist that graced the stage prior, and instrumental solos. This shit was absolutely BONKERS and I LOVED every single moment of it. I’ll add, it was made even better that after the show, the artists came out and interacted with the fans. A humble group of men for sure.

Friday was a blockbuster hit in our books. What happened on Saturday though put everything over the top.

Saturday was special. It was Kat’s birthday and all of us were doing our first ever group cosplay. We decided a while back that we’d do the teen titans in casual attire. This was based off the popular artwork of Gabriel Picolo. So, for me that meant I got to embody a character that I along with many others believe I emulate–Cyborg. I dawned the cybernetic blue and steel grey and white face paint, put on a DC Comics Cyborg shirt to rep him even harder, and topped it off with a colorful playstation jacket. Your man was looking fresh out here. To round out our cast of titans was Kat as Raven, Mike as Robin/Nightwing and Gabe as Starfire. Our rule was if we see a Beast Boy, we adopt him for a family photo; and sure enough we did.

We bursted into Momocon towards the backend of a DC vs Marvel Photoshoot. We got a couple pictures taken there then dispersed to get our own in front of the Momocon banner. That’s when it began to happen. It started off quietly by a singular person, then it built into a loud murmur from everyone I see, then it finally erupts into a loud “DOPE COSPLAY CYBORG” from groups of people. Wherever we went I was getting noticed, our team and group cosplay was getting noticed. I don’t think we ever knew it would become such a big deal. I know I didn’t at the time until it was pointed out to me that, every teen titans cosplay done by a group is ALWAYS lacking a Cyborg; everyone but ours. It was a moment that really struck home for me. It began to make more sense as the day progressed. Little kids were coming up to me saying “BOOYAH!” and singing the teen titans theme song. People loved us, they wanted our pictures, put us in videos, stopped what they were doing just to chat with us. It was major. It without a shadow of a doubt drove home the message to me that representation matters. I know some out there will say it’s not super important but after Momocon, after seeing little black boys and girls smile with joy and sing teen titans with me, after they get excited by the utterance of the word booyah by another black character, that families start showing me off to their kid cosplayers and other adult cosplayers of color pause everything because they NEED to take a photo with you...you just can’t ignore how important that is. To be able to see yourself as a hero. To see oneself as greater than for once, when most of–if not all of society says you can only fit into these certain boxes. To see someone else that looks like you in a positive light; that’s all it takes to break a negative cycle, that’s all it takes to create another hero. For a small moment in time, I was inspiring to those around me; and I hope that the sliver of inspiration that I sparked stays ignited in those I met. I know it surely will with me.

But I digress.

Beyond the massive success of our group cosplay, beyond the elation and fun had for Kat’s birthday, the icing on the cake was being able to meet a famous cosplayer by the name of KieraPlease. This was after an intense dance dance revolution session in which I sat and recorded video and got exhausted looking at everyone else go. It was pure happenstance, which resulted into pure happiness when we finally met. I don’t get starstruck often but I must say, words failed me for our brief interaction. I saw her, saw my friends, and shot my shot at a possible chat and photo opportunity for us all. I took the shot and it went in (KOBE!!). After the picture she hugged us all and had a nice conversation with the Ghouls (Kat & Gabe) which I’m sure made their day if the hug didn’t already. It’s great to note that as a team, we have this cosplay thing down well. When a pro says you got it, you freaking got it! More so, it was better to finally meet someone your used to seeing on a cellphone or laptop screen. A living breathing tangible person, who quite honestly is living her best life fully and truly can be looked at as a symbol of positivity; a role model even. Just like that, day two was in the books.

So, I think I brought you along far enough on my experience in ATL. Detailing 2 key days. Now let me change things up on you a bit and give you my overall thoughts of Atlanta and Momocon as a whole.

Atlanta itself is a hotbed of culture. On the weekend we went, that weekend alone had a bevy of major events happening all weekend long. There was Momocon, Caribbean festival and parade, a food festival, and Stone Mountain fireworks and light show to name a few. As one of our lyft drivers said, ATL is a hotbed of culture because it is made up of a lot of different cultures and people from around the US. Atlanta has its own swagger but it is the culmination of others that has shaped the way it is today. Atlanta is a Transplant City. Many people are moving to Atlanta because of the opportunities that present itself. From music, TV, movies, overall entertainment and broadcasting, the warm weather, the great food, the architecture, the various modes of transportation (ONE TIME FOR THE SCOOTERS), the cheaper housing, and generally you get more out of your earned dollar; why people move there makes sense. And like all major cities Atlanta has its issues, shoot the state of Georgia alone is a bit problematic depending on where you slide politically. But my time spent there will be one for the history books. It’s definitely a place worth traveling to again. Next time I go, I’ll be sure to do more exploring. I didn’t get a chance to travel the halls of Cartoon Network (IF ANYONE ONE IN THE HR DEPARTMENT IS READING THIS, HIRE ME PLEASE) so that’s reason enough for me to go back. That and I didn’t get to try some of Hattie B’s Nashville hot chicken or the slutty vegan sandwich. There’s always next time though.

As for Momocon….IN-FREAKING-CREDIBLE! Momocon has that extra something. That nudge to taking it up one more notch to make it great. No, it is not as big as DragonCon and maybe it won’t get the same recognition or acclaim but Momocon is a phenomenal con. Momocon brought me back to 2014, when I first started going to conventions. My first one at the time was Otakon and to this day I don’t think any other con will hold as special of a spot in my heart as Otakon. But Momocon, Momocon was dangerously close to taking that spot. Which lets me know and hopefully you, the reader, now that it’s just that damn good! The crowd size of the convention is comparable to say the Greater Philadelphia comic con. Meaning there’s a large crowd and over a thousand things to do but you never have to fear about missing out on something. You can and will get to everything you want if you have patience. The event staff from security to the PR and press team were absolutely amazing. All were easy to talk to and informative, helpful and never overbearing. What truly made Momocon as great as it is in my eyes, is that it at its core it remained an anime and gaming convention. It wasn’t a comic convention with anime sections, it was an anime and gaming convention that accepted comic lovers just as much as it did its anime and gaming fans. Anime and gaming is my bread and butter, it’s what got me into this geeky, blerd, pop-culture world I exist in currently. Momocon stayed true to that core value. The sheer fact they had Substantial and Shing02 performing live in concert said more than enough for me. Momocon you are in fact, a real one.

Atlanta….I’ll be back in the future. Whether that be for work or pleasure, or hell maybe to be a transplant myself and live there. All this kid from the burbs of Philly has to say left is…

Peace up, A-Town down.

Much love,

– Isaiah Luck aka Broku

Assistant Producer

Black Tribbles

[chooseywoozy]

Big Sky Country, Chapter One - Country Roads

(NOW PLAYING AS MOSSY)

You’re driving an old sedan down a two-lane highway through the vast expanse of rural Montana. On the horizon, snow-peaked mountains… Behind you, everything you’ve left behind. You glance at the rear-view mirror, catching sight of yourself.

Mossy: I gotta say, for a week on the road, I’m looking pretty good.

You peek over at the passenger seat, where your precious potted cactus is held securely in place by the seatbelt.

Mossy: You’ve been so quiet on this trip, Spike. Everything okay over there?

Spike gives his usual answer… total silence.

Mossy: Okay good. I wouldn’t want you to get car sick.

Suddenly, the gas pedal goes soft under your foot! You press down harder, but the car continues to slow.

Mossy: What the…?

Your car jerks back and forth as steam billows out of the engine!

Mossy: No no no!

You pull over to the side of the road. The car shudders one last time before the engine quits altogether.

Mossy: Oh, crap.

You get out of the car, and everything is quiet. There are no cars on the road in either direction.

Mossy: Okay, this is officially the middle of freakin’ nowhere. AKA, the worst place in the world to break down.

You check your phone hopefully.

Mossy: No service. Now what?

You sit down on the rear bumper and look out over the horizon… Off in the distance, a small figure catches your eye… You eagerly lean forward to get a better glimpse.

Mossy: Is that a man… on a horse? Maybe there’s hope for a rescue, yet.

The figure draws closer and closer, until…

Cowboy: Howdy, there.

You get a good look at the cowboy as he stops his horse in front of you. He’s got a grin as wide as the horizon and dusky brown eyes.

Mossy: Uh… Hi! My name’s Mossy! You wouldn’t happen to know anything about cars, would you?

Cowboy: Just that I prefer Dolly here to them.

He pats his horse affectionately, and she nickers in response.

Dolly: Nnnghh!

Mossy: Dolly, as in… Dolly Parton?

Cowboy: The one and only. The name’s Sawyer, by the way.

Sawyer rides up to the front of your car and bumps it with his boot. The hood pops open with a hiss of steam.

Sawyer: Looks like you’ve got a blown head gasket. You’ll have to call Larry’s repair shop in town for a replacement.

Mossy: I was worried it might be something like that. Do you have a cell phone I could borrow?

Sawyer: Naw, I don’t bother with cell phones. Signal’s terrible out here. But I’m happy to give you a ride to the nearest landline.

Mossy: You can take me anywhere, cowboy.

You eye him appreciatively, and he chuckles.

Sawyer: Why do I feel like I just rode into some sort of cheesy romance novel?

Mossy: Would that be so bad? I’m pretty sure that would make you the handsome hero.

Sawyer: I was always more of a spies and shootouts kinda guy, but I suppose i could get used to a romance novel.

Sawyer offers you his hand. You take it, and he easily pulls you up onto his horse behind him. He spurs Dolly on, and you pitch forward as the horse starts to walk.

Dolly: Neeeiigh.

Mossy: (Whoa…)

You lean forward and wrap your arms around his toned stomach, appreciating the way his muscles ripple beneath his shirt…

Sawyer: You settled back there?

Mossy: Yup! I’m all good.

The two of you ride in silence for a minute, swaying together with the motion of the horse…

Mossy: So, uh, where exactly are you taking me?

Sawyer: To the ole homestead. Luckily, you broke down right on the edge of our ranch.

Mossy: So all this land is yours?

Sawyer: My family’s, yeah.

You look around the landscape as Dolly rides across a vast meadow.

Sawyer: It’s beautiful out here, isn’t it?

Mossy: Yeah… it really is.

Sawyer shifts in his saddle before looking at you over his shoulder.

Sawyer: So tell me, Mossy, what do you do? Besides, you know, breaking down on the side of the road.

Mossy: Recently, I’ve mostly just been trying to figure my life out.

Sawyer: Any luck?

Mossy: Not even close. So far, all I’ve got is moving from Boston to California. Montana is just one of many stops along the scenic route.

Sawyer: What prompted the big move?

Mossy: The last six months in Boston… weren’t the greatest. This relationship I’d been in for two years ended badly. My apartment got infested with rats, and my landlord jacked up the rent. And this job I really wanted, my dream job, totally fell apart at the last minute.

Sawyer: Sorry to hear it. What was the job, if you don’t mind me asking?

Mossy: I was going to be a programmer.

Sawyer: Oh yeah?

Mossy: Yeah. I ha a gig lined up at this really big tech company. A place I’d wanted to work at ever since I was a kid. And then the week before I was supposed to start, their shareholders made them fire half the staff. Including me.

Sawyer: Ouch.

Mossy: Yeah. Ouch is putting it mildly. More like three weeks lying around in my apartment, drinking wine and feeling sorry for myself.

Sawyer: Lying around your apartment… that was infested with rats.

Mossy: Yup.

Sawyer: Well… I see why you’re going to California then. Probably a lot of coding gigs there. You could live that Silicon Valley life. Make a startup, drive a Tesla, launch a rocket to Mars.

Mossy: I really don’t think that’s the typical Silicon Valley life.

Sawyer: So that’s what this is about? Getting a new job?

Mossy: Sort of. I guess I wanted to start a new life. California seems like as good a place as anywhere for a new start, but…

Sawyer: But what?

Mossy: I don’t know. Maybe I could just as easily start somewhere else. Sorry, I’m sure that sounds silly.

Sawyer: No, it doesn’t. Not to me.

You lean forward, and notice a long scar on the back of his right arm, and a small tattoo on the back of his neck that says ‘Lindy’.

Mossy: Sawyer, can I ask you something personal?

Sawyer: Hmmm… awful forward, aren’t you?

Mossy: I just told you, like, three super personal details!

Sawyer: Fine, fine. What do you wanna know?

Mossy: Where’s that scar from?

Sawyer: This? Oh, it’s just a birthday present from a bull named Thunder Road.

Mossy: Something tells me that scar wasn’t on your wishlist.

Sawyer: Definitely not. But I deserved it for being such a little brat. I was a Youth Rodeo champion as a kid, convinced I had the magic touch despite having only ridden baby calves and the like. The day I turned fifteen, I signed up for a full-on rodeo event. I didn’t even bother to practice!

Mossy: Oh, no…

Sawyer: Oh, yes. Thunder Road slammed me into the gate before we even got into the ring. Taught me a lesson right quick. But it was the best thing that could’ve happened, you know? I had no business riding that bull. And he let me know it.

Mossy: Do you still ride in rodeos?

Sawyer: … Naw. Not so much.

Smiling, you lean back, and that’s when you notice a young woman on a horse in the distance, watching you curiously.

Mossy: Who’s that?

Sawyer: Juliette Mendoza. Her family owns our neighbouring ranch. There’s a whole complicated… thing.

Mossy: Complicated like… she’s your ex?

Sawyer: Ha, no! Juliette’s great, but we’re just friends. Naw, it’s our families that’re the issues.

Mossy: Oh?

Sawyer: Would you believe me if I told you it was a feud going back 150 years?

Mossy: … Wow.

Sawyer: That’s Montana for you.

You glance back the the girl. She waves and smiles.

Mossy: She seems okay…

Sawyer: Yeah. She’s the nice one. Now hang on tight. It gets a little bumpy here.

The two of you ride on, and a little while later, you reach a wooden gate framing a long driveway. There’s a hanging sign that reads…

Mossy: ‘Oakley Ranch.’

Dolly perks up her ears and walks a little quicker as you turn up the road.

Sawyer: Here it is. Home, sweet home.

Dolly leads you up a grand entrance lined with tall trees and a wooden three-rail fence… On either side is green pastureland dotted with cows. To the left, a big red barn. Aead on the right, the ranch house. It’s a beautiful spread, although clearly past its prime. The fence needs mending, and the red paint on the barn is peeling… But Sawyer surveys the place like it’s heaven on earth.

Sawyer: What do you think?

Mossy: It’s charming. You never see anything like this back home.

Sawyer: Maybe you need to get out to the country more often.

Mossy: Yeah, maybe I do….

You cast a sidelong glance at Sawyer…

Mossy: I can tell this place is really special to you.

Sawyer: It is… Although sometimes it seems like my dad and I are the only ones who appreciate it.

Mossy: What about the rest of your family?

Sawyer: It’s just my older brother, but he’s not around much anymore. He sorta… comes and goes.

Mossy: Oh, I’m sorry…

Sawyer: It’s a good thing, trust me. There’s some bad blood and… well, it doesn’t matter. He’s out of town now, thankfully, and will be for a while.

The two of you fall quiet as Sawyer guides Dolly up to the front of the ranch house. He hops down and reaches up to help you off the horse.

Sawyer: Sorry, I didn’t mean to be such a downer back there. It’s just…

Mossy: It’s fine. I get it. There’s nothing to explain.

Sawyer smiles, grateful for the out.

Sawyer: I gotta put Dolly away. You can go on in and use the phone to call Larry, the town mechanic.

Mossy: Thanks.

As Sawyer leads the horse into the barn, you hear a rustling sound from around the side of the yard…

Mossy: Hello? Is someone there?

Calf: mmmoooo?

Mossy: Oh, you’re adorable…

You reach out to scratch behind the calf’s shaggy ears, and it looks up at you with huge, molten brown eyes.

Calf: Mmmmmoooo…

The calf hums with appreciation as you keep scratching its head.

Mossy: I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship…

Suddenly, you hear a loud, low moooooo behind you… You turn around to see a large mama cow coming right for you!

Mossy: Aaah!

You back away from the calf, but the mama cow doesn’t stop!

Mossy: Sorry! I’m not trying to take your baby, I swear!

The cow barrels toward you until…

Cowboy: Whoa there, mama!

A rugged cowboy dives forward, tackling you out of the way just as the cow rushes past!

Mossy: Th-thank you…

Without a word, the guy pulls himself up and dusts himself off.

Cowboy: You okay, girl?

Mossy: I think so…

Cowboy: Wasn’t talking to you.

He leans down to gently pet the calf. The mama cow nudges her baby with her nose.

Cowboy: Go on now, mama, go home…

The man calmly herd the cows back through the gate, then closes it behind them. The calf snorts as if to say goodbye. Finally, the cowboy turns to look at you.

Mossy: So, are you a cow whisperer or something? That was seriously impressive. I swear, I saw my life flash before my eyes!

The cowboy shrugs.

Cowboy: You just gotta know how to handle them.

Mossy: Still. I’m very impressed. I’m Mossy, by the way.

You hold out your hand. He looks at it, but makes no move to shake it.

Dallas: I’m Dallas. You visiting?

Mossy: Not exactly. I just came to use the phone. My car broke down not far from here.

Dallas: The house is that way. Stay clear of the livestock, you hear?

With that, Dallas disappears into the barn.

Mossy: I guess I’d better head inside to call the mechanic.

You make your way toward the main house… You’re almost to the porch when the door flies open and an old man bursts out, brandishing a shotgun!

Old Man: Who the hell are you, and what the hell are you doing on my property?!

Mossy: Aaah!

Old Man: You’re not from the bank, are you?

Mossy: The… bank?

Old Man: Well, are you? Or ain’t you?

Mossy: No!

Old Man: I don’t believe you!

Mossy: Please! Hear me out! My name’s Mossy. I’m not from the bank! Sawyer just said I could use the phone?

The old man narrows his eyes at you.

Old Man: How do I know this isn’t some newfangled banker trick?!

Mossy: Because that’s not a thing!

Just then, Sawyer returns from the barn. He jumps in between the two of you, forcing the old man to lower his gun.

Sawyer: Dad, we’ve talked about this! You can’t go around pointing your shotgun at people.

Old Man: She’s on my property!

Sawyer: Mossy’s car broke down on the highway, and I said it was okay to use our phone to call Larry. Remember that good old-fashioned hospitality you instilled in me at a young age?

Sawyer’s dad grumbles, but finally looks at you.

Old Man: I’m sorry. I s’pose I overreacted a touch.

Mossy: I’ll say!

Sawyer: Mossy, this is my dad, Cliff. He’s got a mean bark, but he’s mostly harmless.

Sawyer drops his voice to a whisper…

Sawyer: He won’t admit it, but those shells are full of rock salt. Stings like the devil, but won’t do you real harm. My old man just wants to seem tough.

Cliff: Eh? What was that? You talkin’ about me, boy?

Sawyer: No, sir!

Cliff heads inside, and you and Sawyer take a seat on the front steps of the porch.

Sawyer: Sorry, I should’ve warned you ‘bout my dad.

Mossy: Between shotguns and angry cows, this place is more dangerous than it looks!

Sawyer: Then we’d better make sure you get outta here in one piece. I’ll call up larry and see when he can get here with his tow truck.

Mossy: I’d better wait outside, give your dad some time to cool off.

Sawyer: Good thinkin’.

Ten minutes later… Sawyer comes back outside and offers you a glass of iced tea.

Sawyer: So, the good news is, Larry said he’ll come get your car and take a look at it.

Mossy: That’s great!

Sawyer: yeah… ‘cept it’ll be at least a couple hours before he can get out to the ranch. But you’re welcome to wait here as long as you need. In fact… I was planning to go to the orchard to do some apple pickin’ this afternoon. Seeing as you’ve gotta wait to hear about the car anyway, do you wanna come with?

Mossy: Apple-picking, huh? Is that what you do with all the girls who stop by your ranch?

Sawyer: Just the ones I like.

Mossy: I can’t so ‘no’ to some good old-fashioned apple pickin’! Let’s go.

Sawyer drives you out in a tractor to an orchard full of top-heavy apple trees.

Mossy: What happened to all the other apples?

Sawyer: We let some kids pick ‘em the other day, and they pretty much took everything below six feet.

Mossy: So how do we reach the top apples? Slingshots? Stilts? Magic?

Sawyer: If only. We can either climb the trees…

Mossy: Or…?

Sawyer: Or you can sit on my shoulders.

You eye his strong muscles flexing beneath his shirt… then look back at the tall apple trees.

Mossy: I’ll sit on your shoulders.

Sawyer: The hands-on approach. I like it.

He crouches next to a tree stump and holds a hand out to you.

Sawyer: Hop on up.

You take his hand and carefully climb onto his shoulders.

Sawyer: Hang on now!

Sawyer slowly stands up…

Mossy: Whoa! Why didn’t I notice how tall you are before?

Sawyer: Mmm, you must’ve been distracted by my handsome face.

Mossy: No, I don’t think that’s it…

Sawyer: Oh yeah? Bold words for someone whose life is in my hands.

Sawyer dips and sways precariously…

Mossy: Stop, stop, you’re going to drop me!

Sawyer steadies you with his strong hands.

Sawyer: I’d never drop such precious cargo. Now, let’s pick some apples.

He maneuvers you under a tree, but as you reach for the fruit, he steps back and you grab a handful of air!

Mossy: Hey!

Sawyer: Oh, sorry. Were you trying to get that?

You poke him, and he laughs.

Mossy: Ha ha. Now, be a good ladder and don’t move.

With Sawyer stable beneath you, you pick up all the apples from the tree before moving on to the next… Five trees and ten baskets later… you and Sawyer step back to admire your handiwork.

Mossy: Do you think we got enough?

Sawyer: Definitely. We’ll be able to make enough cider for the whole town with this haul.

You take a deep breath, reveling in the feeling of accomplishment.

Sawyer: What’s that look for?

Mossy: Nothing. It’s just… this is the most fun I’ve had in ages.

Sawyer: You’re welcome to pick our apples any time. We never turn down free labor.

Mossy: Ha ha.

Sawyer: I’m serious. It gets boring doing this all alone!

Mossy: Don’t you have someone special in your life?

Sawyer: Nope. I’m currently very single.

Mossy: Very?

Sawyer: Let’s just say the dating pool out here is pretty shallow.

You look around at the empty orchard.

Mossy: Yeah. I can see that.

Sawyer: I love the solitude and peace that comes with living out on the ranch… but I can’t deny that it’d be nice to share it with someone.

Mossy: Oh?

Sawyer: not that I have much time to date. With my dad getting older, I’ve pretty much taken over most of the duties around the property.

Mossy: So you’re all about the hashtag-ranch life?

Sawyer laughs.

Sawyer: Yeah, something like that. But I don’t mind. I love it here.

Mossy: Would you ever want to do anything else?

Sawyer: Naw. It’s all ranching and riding for me. Oh! And cooking.

Mossy: Cooking? Really?

Sawyer: Yeah. I’m all about those cooking shows.

Mossy: Do you just watch, or do you cook too?

Sawyer: Hell yeah, I cook! But I can’t get too fancy, or my dad gets cranky.

Mossy: I’ve only known him for a few minutes, but I can already tell that’s extremely on brand.

After a moment, Sawyer bends down to pick up a basket.

Sawyer: We’d better load up these apples and get back to the ranch. But first…

He plucks an apple out of the basket and holds it up to you.

Sawyer: Trust me. Everything tastes better in the country.

Grinning, you lean forward and take a bite. It’s juicy and sweet, the best damn apple you’ve ever had.

Mossy: Mmm. You’re not kidding.

Sawyer: And you’ve got some apple on your chin.

Sawyer leans forward, his hand gently grazing your chin. He smiles, his eyes crinkling ever so slightly in the corners… You feel yourself drawn to him… Sawyer leans in, until his lips are just a breath away from yours… And then you pull away, suddenly shy.

Mossy: We… should probably head back.

Sawyer: Yeah. Of course. Hang on now, and don’t let those apples spill!

Mossy: I won’t!

He revs the engine, and soon the two of you are flying over the grassy meadows and rolling hills toward the ranch. Back at the house, the two of you are unloading baskets… when your stomach rumbles loudly.

Sawyer: Hungry?

You blush slightly…

Mossy: Sorry. I guess picking apples worked up more of an appetite than I expected.

Sawyer: You know, you are welcome to stay for dinner. I’m making Hunter’s Stew and fresh apple cider. Maybe a pie too, if I have enough time.

Mossy: That sounds delicious, but I don’t want to impose…

Suddenly, a sleek blue Mustang comes roaring up the long driveway! The two of you spring apart as Cliff hurries out of the house.

Cliff: Hot damn! They’re here early!

Sawyer: Oh, you have got to be kidding me…

The car door swings open, and a husky man gets out, glowering.

Sawyer: Dammit.

Mossy: Sawyer? What’s going on? Who is that?

Sawyer: The one person guaranteed to ruin my day… My brother.

Thoughts on the episode:

So far I’m not that impressed. It’s the first episode, I know, so it’s more about setting the scene. But uh… nothing’s really happening and Sawyer is neither extraordinarily hot or extraordinarily interesting. I know it’s supposed to be a cheesy romance book, but it’s hard to pull me in with a book in this format without some sort of plot.

I was seriously hoping that Sawyer’s brother would be a love interest and that would be a part of the plot - pick between two brothers, ooooooh. But one look at the brother tells me that is definitely not the case. He did not win the genetic lottery, that one was purely for Sawyer.

Juliette is hot - I hope we get to see more of her very soon. Not that fussed about Dallas. I assume Pixelberry were going for the strong, brooding, mysterious type with him but he just came across like a dick. Maybe he’ll win me over in future chapters, but for now, not a winner.

Fave Character of the Chapter: Spike

Least Fave Character of the Chapter: Dallas

[myndopeus]

y'all did it

well, we reached the goal, so i am slightly mortified to present:

YA ES HORA IS GAY: AN ESSAY

(under a readmore because its literally 1.5k and i’m not an asshole. but i might be posting from mobile so if it doesn’t work i apologize)

there’s no context to this, i literally was just so mind-blown and shook that i ended up actually analyzing the whole video for plot subtext. this is probably more literary than y’all are expecting, but apparently you wanted it. citation is of @bisexualpowerranger.

At this point, I’m sure we are all aware of the Ya Es Hora video, whether it be through watching it yourself or listening to your wlw friends nutting over it. The video is practically overflowing with gay subtext, to the point where only the most oblivious cishet would be able to say that it’s just “Gals being Pals”. But even though the gay aura is clearly visible from space, it is also presented with some conflicting implications of hetero nonsense. Thankfully, this is just to throw the straights off, and serves to enhance the gay factor if you look close enough. On the surface, the plot might be easily interpreted as a classic story of a man cheating on two women, who then unite and become close with each other, dumping the fuckboy in unison. It’s a classic plot in both hetero- and homo- literature, but this video adds an intensely Sapphic spin on the trope, proving once again that Our Lord and Savior Becky G truly is one of the Gays. Rather than having the focus on some irrelevant man who is called out on being a blight and parasite to society, this retelling focuses on the bond of two women, and the attraction between them, with the presence of whats-his-face merely acting as a catalyst for them to act on their feelings for one another. How Iconic.

Given that Becky G technically just features on this track, we can safely say that Ana Mena can be considered the “protagonist” of our story. This is reinforced by how she has the widest variety of settings, from poolside view to weird glass room to living room to strange countertop shot. We are given the most insight to her life, so to speak. Her interactions with the other two “characters”, aka De La Ghetto and Becky G, are heavily skewed to aid the point of this interpretation. She only ever communicates with “DeLa” over text, while she shares like, half the damn video with Becky. This is our first clue that the connection between the two women is more important, but this could also be brushed under the bed as friendship. Fortunately, they gave the gays everything we could want, in the form of symbolism. The shots of Ana Mena and Becky G feature them in two rooms that are only separated by a glass wall as thin and transparent as this metaphor is. The décor of the two rooms tells us all we need to know about these two. Ana Mena’s side of the room is covered in posters and artwork on the walls, with lamps and fluorescent lighting giving it a nice purple and pink shading, which is like trying to smother someone with the bisexual flag, but anyways. This implies a more lived-in state, kind of like a teenager’s bedroom or something. Teenagers are notorious for beginning to explore outside of their comfort zones and beginning to branch out past the world that they are accustomed to. Key word being ‘explore’, as we turn to Becky G’s side of the room, which is legit just a fucking indoor jungle. While Ana Mena’s room represents a more controlled area, this jungle represents something exciting and undiscovered. A word used in the lyrics that seems appropriate is “adventure”. This connection indicates that the “adventure” referenced in the sexually charged lyrics is a woman. What we can surmise from this is that Ana Mena is a young woman beginning to question her sexuality because of the absolute snack that is Becky G, a known Bicon. If we were to get literary about this shit, jungles are commonly used to symbolize the heart (Shay R[edacted], 2018). Contrast this with the artificial lighting of the other side of the room, and you get the classic head vs. heart dilemma. I don’t know about you guys, but so far I am loving this.

 But wait! There’s more! If you, like me, are an adept user of Google Translate, all it takes is a few simple clicks to get a relatively inaccurate translation of what they’re actually saying. As far as I could make out, the lyrics carry a theme of two people who are clearly very interested and attracted to each other, but for whatever reason have not been able to meet in person. Thus, most of their communication and flirting is carried out through text, pictures, and voice messages. Although he does communicate with both girls individually through text, De La Ghetto is only ever shown in solo shots. In contrast, Becky G and Ana Mena are separated by that glass wall, which is clearly a better representation of the tension that comes from flirting over text, but not being able to actually see or be near the other person. The lyrics are referencing the pull that the two women feel towards each other. De La Ghetto is irrelevant. He’s so irrelevant that I didn’t even bother to look up the translation for his rap. Because who cares. The lyrics talk about sending photos and voice messages, which both Ana Mena and Becky G are seen doing. What’s interesting about those parts of the video is that the other person is never shown responding to the picture/message. In other shots, the color of the respondent’s text message shows that they are messaging De La Ghetto, but it is left suspiciously ambiguous with the pictures and voice messages. Thus, it is not out of reason to suspect, or even conclude, that those pictures and messages weren’t being sent to De La Ghetto, but were being exchanged between the two women. This makes even more sense when you note how the shots of them sending voice messages are consecutive.  Therefore, what we have so far is two women carrying an online flirtation with each other, while simultaneously juggling a man in the offhand.

And now we get to the part everyone’s been waiting for, where they ditch the man and get together. De La Ghetto sends Ana Mena a text message saying that he can’t meet her at 7 like they planned, not giving a reason. She is clearly upset by this, and we later find out that he is ditching her to meet up with Becky G. What’s super gay about this detail is that when Becky G gets the message from him, she isn’t even looking at her phone. She’s gazing off into the distance like Sappho herself just descended from heaven and roundhouse kicked her in the head. So we definitely know at this point that Becky is so over whats-his-face, and that she’s got it bad for Ana Mena, but Ana Mena is still concerned with men for some reason, so she hasn’t reciprocated yet. Becky is probably waiting for Ana Mena to make the first move. A possible interpretation in line with common tropes is that Becky is already comfortable with her sexuality and attraction, while Ana Mena is struggling with the new feelings of being attracted to women. One way this is shown is in the pictures they send (see above paragraph for further reference); Becky is the first one to send a picture, god bless, and when Ana Mena later sends one, it is in almost the exact same pose. In a very wholesome turn of events, Becky waits for Ana Mena to make the first move confirming their relationship, which she does in a very dramatic and thinly-veiled metaphor for sex by shattering the glass wall, leading to a shot of Becky G that gives off such strong bottom vibes that I was shocked and had to pause the video for a few moments. They spend the rest of the video dancing suggestively with each other while De La Ghetto looks down at his phone and is as shook as we all feel.

The concluding paragraph of an essay is essentially a tl;dr, so here’s a summary of the Hidden Meaning of the Ya Es Hora video: a young woman, Ana Mena, finds herself caught between the physical relationship she has with a man, and the exciting but unknown venture of an online flirtationship with a woman that is clearly progressing rather quickly. The other woman, Becky G, is not pressuring her or pushing boundaries, while the man is pretty much blowing her off. Coming to her senses, Ana Mena realizes that women are amazing, and she goes off and basically has sex with Becky G, and they lived happily ever after. One entertaining tidbit of detail that was not strong enough to support the overarching interpretation, but is still funny, is that in the tail end of the video there is a Parental Advisory sign in Becky’s side of the room. Indeed, she is such a bad influence, turning all the women gay and scattering glass all over the damn place. Also her jawline is sharp enough to kill a man. The moral of this story is that I’m pretty sure Becky G is literally on the verge of coming out, and if you haven’t seen this gay-ass music video then what are you doing with your life. Go watch it, and make sure to bring a glass of water, because the thirst is real.

References

R[edacted], S. (2018) Jungles are usually used to represent the heart. Discord DMs.

[shintorikhazumi]

Day 3: “What if I kissed you?”

[Chariox "What if I kissed you right now?” pls]

 A/N:Honestly, I don’t know how this turned out. Ciao all. Lemme go loathe my self in the corner. Also it’s late coz our computer was reformatted and only got back today.:(

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

 She was angry. Very angry. And she knew, she was aware that Croix knew this too. But then what of it? She certainly wasn’t doing anything about it, busy glaring (oogling) at Pisces who suddenly turned into a human just shy of a minute ago.

How exactly did it come about?

They had been fighting about something Croix waved off as trivial, while to Chariot it meant so much, and their bickering was witnessed by Pisces who just so happened to own the classroom they had chosen to fight in, bubbling between them, trying to mediate.

By some odd stroke of fate, the resident troublemakers, aka the red team, just so happened to pass by, Sucy brewing up a concoction that quite literally smelt of trouble, coupled with Akko’s mere presence and Chariot had the premonition that another explosive problem was about to happen. That didn’t enable her to act on it fast enough however, as Croix tried to stomp away angrily, bumping into Akko who tripped against Sucy, who somehow managed to throw the potion all the way into Pisces bowl and spilling all its contents there.

“Wha-“

*BOOM*

While everyone took cover, Chariot’s eyes scanned the situation, trying to assess the damage dealt.

“Oh my gosh, Pisces-sensei!” She screeched in realization, rushing to the table and finding an empty charred bowl. “Was she blown up?! Sucy, what was in that potion?!”

Said student got up rubbing her head as she groaned, trying to register what her teacher just asked. “Huh? I’m pretty sure it was just a- holy…”

Chariot blinked, wondering why Sucy had trailed off and turned to follow where the girl had pointed to, blinking rapidly now, mouth agape as a woman, in her birthday suit was blubbing over and over, with her pretty coral-themed wavy hai-

“PISCES?!”

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

So back to their current situation. Chariot who had already previously been in a bad mood before and throughout their fight, couldn’t help but feel jealous at the amount of attention Croix was giving to their fellow professor. She had taken off her favorite red coat and wrapped the other woman in it and tried to carry her to  seat when she could just get up and do it herself, heck she could’ve just poofed some clothes for herself!

Yes, She was jealous. Very Jealous, and Chariot admitted that. Croix never did that for her, acting sweet and considerate, no, not for these past few days. Actually, this is the reason they had had a little spat. She felt that there was a lack of given attention, of love towards her. Croix seldom showed her love after her return to cure the pollen’s curse and was quick to immerse herself into work the moment she stepped foot onto Luna Nova.

So seeing this, witnessing Croix being kind, despite it being to their friend, and much needed action, Chariot frankly found it unfair. If she didn’t get to have this kind of action with her own girlfriend, why should others?

As if the heavens heard her unspoken prayer, Croix turned around and finally checked on her, approaching her as if she hadn’t done anything wrong. (She hadn’t really, but to Chariot… well…)

“Are you okay?”

“…am I?” Chariot replied, turning away from Croix. Maybe she was acting petty, but right now, she couldn’t care less.

“Chariot? Babe, what’s up?” Croix tried again, poking her girlfriend, this time, slightly more conscious that she might have done something against the astronomy teacher.

“Nothing.”

“It’s clearly something, that’s for sure.” Croix responded, growing a tad bit more anxious.

“And you only notice now?” Chariot whispered in reply, hoping Croix didn’t really hear. (Un?)Fortunately, she did, and frowned.

“Notice what? Char, I won’t know if you don’t tell me, you know?” Croix rubbed the back of her neck in frustration. “I need you to tell me these kinds of things if you want me to know. Got no clue, honestly.”

“You’re supposed to be smart.” Chariot huffed uncharacteristic of her and Croix raised a brow at that. Usually, Chariot avoided being like this, petty, if she were blunt. She was the most patient woman in the world, so now Croix was left to wonder how many buttons she pushed.

“I am, but I grow dumb when I’m around you. So tell me! I don’t know!”

“We were just fighting about it a few minutes ago!” Chariot raised her voice just a bit, but it was enough to draw the other’s attention to them, the red team who helped Pisces get dressed (Lotte cast a spell), and the teacher aforementioned looked to the bickering couple.

“Should we… Umm.. we should…” Akko trailed off, hands around Pisces waist as she assisted her.

“Let’s go.” Sucy said with a blank expression, leading everyone out. “I’m gonna get started on turning Sensei back so you guys should help me.”

The rest nodded as the headed out, and Croix was thankful for the privacy.

“LQs shouldn’t be interfered with.” Sucy giggled maniacally as she locked the door behind them. “By the way, curfew is in fifteen minutes. If you two don’t fix that up, the doors will lock you in. You’ll have the whole night to yourselves.” The student giggled as the professor’s eyes widened.

Croix made her way quickly to Chariot.

“So… uhhh.”

“Save it. If you’re just gonna apologize so they won’t worry and we won’t get locked in, save it.” Chariot shrugged off the hand that Croix had placed on her shoulder. “Sometimes, I wonder if you even care anymore. Work seems a bit too appealing to you. Or other people for that matter. Tell me Croix,” Chariot looke into the eyes she loved so much with fear. “Are you finally tired of me?”

She didn’t know why, but those words felt like a sharp knife being stabbed into her. Croix just felt like crying as her mouth ran dry. Unbeknownst to her, it was a double-edged sword for Chariot, hurting her as she had hurt.

“I… I said I was just busy. It’s not like I don’t want to spend time with you. I’m just… I just get busy. Char… please understand that it’s for us… I missed too many work days, I just want to get everyone’s trust and reliance bac-“

“Everyone’s? What about mine?” Chariot whispered again. “I just want a part of you. I’m not taking everything from you. Just a bit of your time. Sharing breakfast, talking during breaks, sleeping together, that’s all.” Chariot spoke so soft, as if speaking louder would make her voice break. “That’s all.” She repeated, not allowing tears to escape. “That’s all, really. That’s really all… Really… that’s all I want.” She spoke like a broken record, like a track on replay. “But if that’s not possible, then…”

“Chariot.” Croix suddenly cut off, holding the other woman’s shoulders tight, squeezing it tight as her eyes stared into Chariot’s, tears threatening to come out. "What if I kissed you right now?”

Chariot didn’t reply, eyes simply wide.

“What if I took you out for dinner, hugged you, gave you my coat and spent time with you… wh-what if I told you I’m scared to lose you again? What if all my work is to secure a future or something for us… what if I… I’m just scared of you right now… that if I see you, I’ll realize that I hurt you once an that you weren’t cured… and maybe I hurt you again.. but what… what if…”

“Croix?”

“What if I said Sorry? What if I hugged you now and took you out on a date? What if I… what… if… if…”

“What if?”

"What if I kissed you right now?”

Warmth spread throughout Croix’s body as she was embraced tightly. The curfew bell’s sound falling on deaf ears as the pair embraced. (Though eventually they escaped quite easily. Chariot wasn’t a former troublemaker for nothing.)

"What if I kissed you right now?” Croix repeated, cradling Chariot’s face in her hands, brushing her thumb over her cheeks repeatedly, smiling all silly like.

“Then I’d have to forgive you.”

 A/N: Hi, bye… gonna go hide.

~Shintori Khazumi

[elizabethcariasa]

Failed Frozen Embryo Transfer #3 – Failed IVF

As I type, the words are blurry from the tears. My heart is broken. And it’s in moments like these that hope seems impossible. The waves of grief, loss, and utter despair hit like a Mac truck. I am not ok. I feel like I am living the worst kind of ground hogs day since we just recently shared our last failed embryo transfer. On August 20th, I had my second frozen embryo transfer and 11 days later we found out that it failed. 

I never fully understood the pain of those trying for their second child. I always thought how the pain must have been 10x harder for those without having any children. But the chill reality for myself is having a sweet taste of motherhood and knowing that in every fiber of my body that is the role I was meant to have. And the utter heartbreak of knowing that joy and love and not being able to give it to more than one child. It’s something I have thought about a lot and something I now deeply understand. As I sit in this numb fog, the irony is that my butt is literally still numb from the progesterone injections and I still have permanent marker circles drawn on my butt cheeks from where I would have continued my shots if I had gotten pregnant. It all stings. Literally and figuratively.

Why I am deciding to share this so soon after our failed transfer is that I can’t just pretend things are normal because they aren’t. So much is going on in the world that I care so passionately about, but I have been secretly struggling through our fertility as the world simultaneously is hurting and the pressures of having a platform and showing up for others can feel daunting when your own life is consumed with its own fight. I just want to say, to always be kind to others because you NEVER know the struggles they are fighting in their lives. Especially in this Covid world where many people have lost their jobs, lost loved ones, and so many other pieces of life can be turned upside down. That being said, I try to carry on and move forward because it is what needs to happen in life. But now you know what has and is going on in the background.

I have preached so many times about hope, and strength and courage, and I don’t want this first piece of this story to throw you off. While I sit in a deep dark cave, even if I don’t see the light, I know it’s there. I have had that hope in the past and while it might be wavering now, I know it’s there. So let me explain what happened this cycle.

Frozen Embryo Prep

This being the 3rd time we prepped for Frozen Embryo Transfer in the last 5 months… you could say we were already running in the swing of things at the start of this one. This one also seemed to fly by. Each week, each new medication, the process just seemed faster likely because I was going through the motions, and getting things done and in such a rhythm from the past cycles. Everything went smoothly with medications for the most part. The only different thing this time was that the progesterone in oil shots (aka the butt shots) started to hurt way sooner this time around. I think because I still had scar tissue from the last round of FET, the discomfort from the injections started almost instantly. Insult to injury am I right?? Also the injection area became numb because of the nerves in the area so that was freaky and not fun at all either. And to be clear, the actual injections are not bad at all in my opinion. I guess that is also coming from someone that now has an intimate relationship with shots so don’t quote me on anything. It’s not the needle that hurts, the aftermath of the progesterone lumps in my butt that hurt and sting. I do the whole massage thing, have used heat, but none of it really helps. You just grit down and get through it. I just think of each shot getting me closer to the baby. For the most part though, it was a swift and smooth process to get ready for transfer day. I was at my last appointment getting ready, when I double checked to be sure that Blake could come with me this time. We had planned to have Otis spend the night at my sisters so that Blake could take me and it could be a more loving experience for me since last time we checked, partners were allowed to join for the procedure. Unfortunately, I got the news that because of the recent covid spike in Southern California, partners were no longer allowed to come for procedures. My heart sank. It’s so hard not to get frustrated in these moments because infertility in the time of covid makes you walk more alone than you would normally. But, protocol is protocol and it was not something to be obsessed and linger on. But it was part of my plan that was now shifted. But, like anything else, you need to just readjust and keep moving forward. That all being said, if you are going through infertility for your first time during covid-19 having to go to appointments alone, procedures alone, my heart just reaches out to yours because I know how scary it can be at first to navigate. Just know your army of women are here. And we are all marching into those appointments with courage.

Transfer Day

Blake and Otis drove me to my procedure on embryo transfer day. 30 minutes prior to my appointment per usual and I gave them both a kiss, popped my valium and headed upstairs. Before you go back to the room, you need to fill out a ton of paperwork verifying your info etc and as I was filling out my sheets, I came across someone else’s sheet mixed in with my forms. THANK GOD I had taken the valium already or I might have had a full blown meltdown. I went back to the front desk and I think the woman felt HORRIBLE for mixing up a paper. When I dropped my papers off to her I said, “ I don’t have to worry about getting my own embryo right?!” Kind of half joking… but also, dead serious. It is in moments like this you really just need to step back and think that nothing in life is perfect and mistakes happen and not to let it ruin the vibe of transfer day. I WAS ZEN and nothing was going to change that.

I then went to my procedure room and met with the embryologist who went through all my information and that instantly calmed my nerves. Then my doctor came in to review everything and we were ready to get the show on the road! They always take a photo of my embryo for me before we start which is so special. My little baby, sitting in its little embryo station. SCIENCE IS BEAUTIFUL. Even though last transfer I videoed Blake and it was chaotic, I decided to video him in again as just a bit of support. It did feel good to have him there somehow. He put himself on mute so he could hear (maybe?) what was going on. My doctor first takes a quick measurement of my lining to make sure everything is looking good and it was a little bit lower than expected. It was more like 7.6 or 7.8 overall which we normally aim for 8 but she said she saw a thicker portion in a certain spot she would aim for. Not something you love to hear before shoveling your embryo in… but not every cycle is the same and if the doctor was happy, I was happy. A few minutes later and our beautiful little embryo was happily inside my uterus. I laid down for 20-30 minutes after and listened to some of my favorite chill tunes until it was time to get up and go. This was it. And now that wait continued. 

2 Week Wait

During our two week wait, 2WW, we had A LOT going on. My transfer was on a Thursday and I was on bedrest from Thursday through all day Saturday. I called it my “momcation” lol. Blake took time off from work and was on Otis duty 24/7. I stayed in bed for everything except a potty run or getting my injections. I watched a ton of movies but the first one I always watch when I get home is Father of the Bride Part 2. LOVE THAT MOVIE and it always gives me those good feeling vibes. This time, I made sure to plan all our meals ahead of time so I was enjoying all my favorite things. I always cut all caffeine as recommended by my doctor so I sip my hot water with lemon with all my meals. I facetimed Otis for all my meals which made me feel like part of the family and so sweet to see his little face. I have some of the sweetest photos of him laughing and eating pasta with me on facetime. Every night Blake would bring him in after his bath to give me a kiss and try to have a little snuggle while Blake watched him to make sure he wouldn’t jump on me or anything. Hard with an active toddler but at night, he loves those milk and movie snuggles so glad I could get some mini snuggle time with him. Toward Saturday, being in bed starts to get boring even for a mom that REALLY needed some time to rest. By Sunday I was slowly getting back into the swing of things and suddenly in full party prep mode for Otis!

So Sunday I was off bedrest and his birthday was on Tuesday. Blake was able to take off work on Monday and Tuesday so he could help prepare for Otis’ birthday. This was so helpful and amazing because now, I couldn’t’ lift Otis at all, so he was able to really help out more so with him as I eased back into my normal routines. Even though party planning has its own stress involved, it was EPIC to have something to focus my attention on during the TTW. And even luckier that we also planned a drive by birthday for Otis’ friends to come on Saturday so we had a lot to work on and distract us during the week.

On the eve of my blood work, A peaceful calm fell over me. Maybe I was still smiling from celebrating Otis and his birthday. Maybe it was because I was scrolling through photos of him dancing but I just couldn’t help smiling. How lucky was I??? A mom of a 2 year old person that continues to bring me so much joy every day. This is the hope you hold out for. This is what every injection is meant for. This is why time after time you pick yourself up and get back up. And that day, my heart smiled. Knowing that I had that chance to find out I was pregnant the next day. This was going to be my chance where I got lucky to do this again. 

Bloodwork Day

I woke up feeling so good. Calm. Relaxed. It was shocking. My plan was to wake up, pee in a cup, and have Blake do a HPT (home pregnancy test) when I left the house for my blood work. My mindset here is that I never want to get a blind call from the doctor with negative news and I DON’T want to know before I have to go see people in a doctors office so always leave the pee and make Blake test it. My relationship with the “devil sticks” as I call it… well, it ain’t good so I am thankful that Blake takes on the HPT duty.

I headed to my doctor’s appointment and one of my favorite nurses was there to take my blood. We chatted, and honestly, I was feeling good. Feeling so confident in the weirdest of ways. I had had some light cramping the past days so I figured that was a positive sign. I headed quickly back to my car to test Blake to give me the results. 

He first text back and asked how blood work went before I quickly and boldly asked WHAT THE RESULTS WERE. “Negative.” He said. A pit sank in my stomach, and the tears started to stream as I sat in the parking lot. Flashbacks to our last failed transfer and negative HPT. It had failed… AGAIN. At this point it was 8:45 and I needed to head home right away to get back on Mom duty to watch Otis since Blake had to go to work. I had to try to dry my tears up so I could drive home safely. I did my best to focus and get myself home. The waves of grief continually tug at my heart. EVERY. DAMN. SECOND. I walked inside and Otis smiled at me screaming “MAMA!!!” as he always does when I enter a room. I had to smile. But it almost made my heart break twice knowing I didn’t make him a baby sibling. 

I cried most of the day. On and off. Without warning. But what I talked about before is mourning this loss as a mother is so difficult. I didn’t want to be hysterically crying in front of Otis all day. He needs a mother that is happy and making him smile. But it’s not easy. Blake came out at lunch and I lost it. Trying to cover my face in front of Otis so he couldn’t’ see my tears. The frustration of just having to FIGHT and STRUGGLE for so long, all of it just feels so unfair. I sobbed as I told him I just wish it was easy like everyone else. It was just so hard. 

Today, I am still not ok. And to be honest I won’t be ok for a while. I know this isn’t the story you want to be reading and trust me when I say it’s not the story I thought I would be typing. But it’s the cruel reality of infertility that there are no guarantees. What makes this failure even more devastating is that we only have 1 more embryo left. So talk about pressure and your whole freaking family life flashing before your eyes. Your heart on the chopping block. Every time I think about it breaks me into pieces. I have been in that situation before, and sadly, we did not have a happy ending. Everything about this process will give you PTSD or at least it did for me. When you talk about being hopeful, it’s likely one of the hardest things you can achieve while going through treatment. But in the end, hope is what we all have. Faith that we can put our best hopeful heart forward and do everything in our power to put one foot in front of the other. I don’t know what our future holds right now, but I know I will have the courage to move forward. My mission in writing these blog posts about our infertility journey is shed some light on the realities of fertility treatment. It’s important to know the good, the bad and the ugly and to know that though times can be very dark, the rewards can be life’s sweetest. 

Blake turned to me yesterday and said, “WOW. Can you believe just how special a miracle that Otis is???” And he is so right. Bless our little rainbow baby for bringing so much love and light into our life especially in these current hard times.

To my friends out there struggling, I wish I could wrap my arms around you. So many parts of this process are now done alone because of this Covid world but know you are not walking alone. We all walk together. You are not alone.

I wrote a few posts on infertility and IVF and you can find them below:

IVF 1 

IVF 2 

IVF 3

Prepping for FET (frozen embryo transfer)

Preparing for IVF egg retrieval 

How to support a friend going through IVF

IVF book resources

Covid-19 Cancelled My Embryo Transfer

Failed IVF Frozen Embryo Transfer

The post Failed Frozen Embryo Transfer #3 – Failed IVF appeared first on eat.sleep.wear. - Fashion & Lifestyle Blog by Kimberly Lapides.