#Mary has burn scars mind you

[logaenhowlett]

SOMETHING HAPPENS AND I'M HEAD OVER HEELS - L.H.

Summary: What starts off as a simple favour to watch Laura’s cat sends Logan into a spiral as you continue to make your way into his life.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Warnings: Pure fluff - Logan is 100% whipped, Wade

A/N: 4.4k - my longest fic yet! Worst!Logan has my entire soul, I'd give anything just for that pretty smile. Title creds to Tears For Fears. Enjoy!

MASTERLIST

The familiar burn of whiskey stings the back of his throat. Logan rests his head against the couch, second-guessing his decision to babysit Laura's cat while she's enjoying her night out. Her tireless attempts of pestering him at last working in her favour so he can finally meet his 'copy-kitten' - her words.

A quick glance at the time reveals he should probably head out now. Logan rises, groaning as his muscles protest after weeks of just slumping around the apartment. Even Al had pointed out how lazy he'd become lately. And that unsolicited observation gave him half the mind to consider finding new roommates. But who was he kidding? As much as he also barely tolerated that one incredibly maddening little prick's incessant jibber-jabber, he wasn't going to find anything for what he's currently paying.

Soon enough, he weaves his way through the crowds, swerving past the shoulders of, frankly, one too many people absorbed by their devices to step aside for his large frame. Luckily, Laura's place isn't too far and he really appreciates that detail as the sound of thunder rumbles overhead. A faint ding emerges from his pocket and he retrieves his phone, reading the screen with a slight squint.

His boots soak the welcome mat as he fumbles with the door trim, locating the key according to Laura's text - making a mental note to remind her of personal safety later. Shivering, he shrugs the wet jacket off, tossing it over the armchair. His eyes dart around the room, looking for the damn cat, and for a moment, Logan wonders whether he's being pranked.

The pitter-patter of paws against the hardwood floor has him snapping his head to the little creature in question. The cat, or Leopold Alexis Elijah Walker Thomas Gareth Mountbatten - Leo, for short - he learns begrudgingly after Wade shoved pictures upon pictures to his face one particular day, stares at him with indifference.

Understanding the need to be left alone, Logan trudges towards the kitchen, swinging the fridge open. A small post-it stuck over a box of leftovers, reads "Knew you'd be hungry", has him scoffing, mildly amused that Laura had predicted his actions.

Minutes later, he sinks onto the couch, making brief eye contact with Leo, who's nonchalantly licking his paws. He's halfway through the bowl of pasta when the cat suddenly leaps onto the cushion next to him. Logan watches curiously, he's not terribly experienced around pets, hardly spending any time with Mary Puppins herself despite living under the same roof.

"Alright, here's the deal." He murmurs, "You stay outta my way and I stay outta yours."

Leo replies with a meow to which Logan nods, satisfied by the response. He hopes to god this cat has the same temperament as Dogpool and allows him to simply coexist till Laura returns. Intrigued by the smell, Leo slowly inches forward, gently nudging his head against the bowl.

"Don't think you can eat this, bub."

Leo seems to understand the implication and meows in defiance. With a sigh, Logan gingerly flexes his hand, stroking the cat's head. The act immediately has Leo purring in content, the desire to investigate the food long forgotten. And no one's there to witness the ghost of a smile that teases his lips.

The calm attitude only lasts an hour before Logan's biting back a string of profanities, frustrated by Leo's refusal to take his medication. He's thankful for his healing factor, for otherwise, he'd be covered in a litter of scars. How the hell Laura deals with this devil-of-a-cat is beyond comprehension.

There's no use in trying again. Leo clearly wants nothing to do with him or what he's hiding in his hand. The thought of seeking help crosses his mind, perhaps one of the neighbours is especially skilled in feeding pills to literal hellspawns. Logan tunes his hearing to the apartments on the floor. Old lady already asleep to her TV - no. A family of six attempting to eat dinner in peace - no. Two people about to - fuck no. Now he really wants a word with Laura about her living situation.

Just when he's about to give up, a recognisable melody reaches his ears - one he's unwilling heard Wade jam out to in the shower. This person swaying along to music seems far more approachable than anyone else in this building, and so he steps out, knocking on the apartment across from Laura's.

The door cracks open slightly, you peek your head out giving him a questioning look, “Um… hi? Can I help you?”

“Hey, sorry to bother you. But, uh… I’m watching Laura’s - your neighbour’s cat.” Embarrassment creeps into his cheeks as he points behind him, “He’s not takin’ his meds and uh do you… can you help me? Please?”

The look of absolute defeat paired with the remnants of red scratch marks on his arms has your heart clenching for this poor man, “Of course.”

When the door fully opens, Logan’s eyes widen reflexively at the state of your undress. There’s nothing evocative about it, yet he feels as though he’s intruding on an intimate side of you. One he’s definitely not privy to.

Your sheepish smile sends a wave of something indescribable through his body. He clears his throat, turning on his heel to lead you inside. Leo flicks his head up at the sound of footsteps, purring as if he hasn’t been driving Logan insane for the past hour.

You knew Laura had rescued the little guy a while ago, having run into her in the hallway the night she brought him home. Every interaction you’ve had presents him as the sweetest kitten in the world, so watching the distinct mark of dread on this stranger’s face has you stifling a laugh.

“What?” Logan asks, feeling a little self-conscious about the whole situation.

“Nothing. It’s just - Leo’s very friendly. Or at least, I thought so… what the hell did you do to piss him off?” You chuckle, kneeling a foot away.

“Piss him off? I was just tryin’ to give him the damn pills. Had no problem with me before that.” Logan’s fingers twitch as you approach the cat, wanting to protect you from the sharp claws the demon would surely attack you with.

Yet, to his astonishment, Leo innocently crawls into your outstretched arms. And Logan swears he saw a flicker of mockery come across the cat’s eyes as he peers at him, relishing your comforting embrace.

“See? He’s a sweetheart.”

The fondness in your tone almost has him believing your words. In no time, Leo’s fully cooperating with your gentle requests, happily taking the medication as if it’s the tastiest thing in the world.

Logan learns three things that night. One, your name. Two, that you have some innate ability to charm everyone around you - human or otherwise. Three, he absolutely couldn’t wait to see you again.

Logan tries to drain out the shouting match between his two roommates, ducking calmly as Al’s miscalculated spatula throw flies in his direction. Laura giggles next to him, entertained by the whole ordeal - Wade had accidentally left his cock ring plugged in the bathroom again, nearly short-circuiting the apartment.

“Hey! Kink shaming is very frowned upon, Althea.”

“You motherfucker! I almost got electrocuted by the toaster this morning!”

Logan grumbles to himself, knowing there’ll never be a quiet, normal day in this household. He turns to Laura, “Kid, you wanna grab some food later?”

“Can’t. I’m going out.”

He nods, not giving it a second thought. But as the memory of you flashes across his mind, he stops bouncing his leg, heart beating a little faster. It had been a whopping seven days since that interaction, yet every little detail has stuck with him since. In fact, he spent many hours pacing in his room planning some way to magically run into you.

“… What about the cat?” He asks, and when she raises her eyebrow, “Who’s watchin’ him?”

She replies with a shrug, “I’ll figure it out.”

The solution to his problem falls perfectly onto his lap. Oh, how his pulse quickens at the thought. And as if to not seem suspiciously enthusiastic, he pauses before speaking, “I can do it.” 

“Why?”

“Better than this shit.”

Laura considers him for a moment then agrees casually - she knows exactly why he offered. You had bumped into her a couple of days ago, offhandedly mentioning meeting Logan that night as you recounted the details of your week. It took mere seconds to put two and two together and realise he was incredibly smitten.

Logan spends a good fifteen minutes messing with his hair. Fuck, did it always spike up like that? The one tiny mirror in his room supposedly taunting him with each look over. A low tsk breaks the flood of self-criticism as he slams the door shut behind him, roughly brushing past Wade.

"Ooh, is that cologne I smell or are you just horny to see me?"

His teasing spirit immediately drops when Logan shoots him a glare, precisely throwing Al's spatula straight at his crotch.

"God - not the home office, peanut! Jim and Pam need protection!"

The walk to Laura's seems a lot shorter this time, some sort of nervous, giddy energy surging through his chest with each step. Logan bites the insides of his cheeks, feeling childish by the stupid smile daring to grace his lips just at the sheer thought of you. He can't remember the last time someone had drawn these kind of emotions from him. A part of him wants to cower in fear of rejection and self-doubt, and other? Oh, it's got your name written all over.

As soon as he reaches the hallway, all his senses are directed to your apartment. Confused by the silence he finds instead, Logan strains his hearing harder than ever. Hm, it's barely seven-thirty, maybe you're not home yet? Disappointment twirls around his mind, he sighs before opening Laura's door, convincing himself it's probably for the better.

To his surprise, Leo behaves quite well this time around - eating his food, taking his medication, and sticking with minimal efforts to annoy him. The black and white movie he randomly chose keeps his thoughts from drifting to you for the most part, though he can't help but wonder where you are at - he checks his watch - 10:38 pm on a Thursday?

Whatever hope he held onto paints him a fool as time slips by. He couldn't blame you, you didn't owe him anything. Logan runs a hand down his face, and despite his wavering relationship with Leo, he's at least grateful for the cat's company on this rather lonely night.

"Was a dumb idea, huh?" He mumbles, gently scratching Leo's ear.

Not ten minutes later, the jingle of something hitting the floor has him sitting up, intrigued. Logan pads over to look through the peephole, his heart fluttering at the sight of you. It doesn't take a genius to note your drunken state with the way you're cursing and fumbling with the keys. His hand rests against the doorknob, a flash of hesitation creeping in. Do you even want to see him right now?

Before he can psych himself out, his instincts make the decision for him. Logan's unsure of how to announce his presence, wanting to avoid any chances of scaring you. In hindsight, that task should’ve been deemed impossible when you flinch suddenly anyway.

"Logan! Shit - did I wake you up?"

He chuckles at that and before he can even respond, you fire off another question, "Wait, what're you doing here?"

"Laura's out. I'm on babysitting duty." Leo purrs from somewhere behind him in confirmation. Logan watches as you nod slowly, the keys once again sliding from your grasp, "Here, let me help you."

The two of you reach down, fingertips barely grazing as he reacts faster than you. He realises he's much closer than he anticipated when your perfume crowds his senses. Logan buries the urge to meet your eyes deep, deep down, instead unlocking the door with a clenched jaw.

He's very appreciative of the fact that you're too out of it to observe his actions. He wanders into the kitchen to fetch some water, a laugh nearly spilling out of him as you collapse onto the couch, "Hey, easy."

"I'm not that drunk."

"I believe you." He lifts the glass to your lips, words ever so soft, "But... how about we get you to bed hm? Doesn't that sound better than this couch?" When you blink at him tiredly, Logan knows it's so over for him - every shred of denial he held within now shattered by your very hands.

"Okay... "

He maintains some distance, assuming you'd stubbornly dismiss his attempts to guide you to the bedroom. Leaning by the doorframe, he doesn't try to hide the fondness in his expression as you settle under the covers.

"Night, Logan."

He hears you murmur beneath the blanket. It's almost natural how quickly he replies as if you've had this exchange hundreds of times before, "Good night, sweetheart."

A groan leaves you as the sunlight eventually breaches the comfort of your dark room. Rubbing your eyes, you blindly reach for the bedside table, hoping to find your phone. Instead, your hand retrieves a piece of paper while knocking over a bottle of Advil that definitely wasn't there earlier.

'Not that drunk' my ass. - L

The party hat lays tilted on his head. Logan hooks his finger onto the string, momentarily stopping it from cutting into his chin. On any other occasion, he wouldn't have been caught dead wearing the stupid thing, but it was Laura's birthday and once she pulled out the dangerous puppy eyes, there was no way he could refuse without being an asshole.

He's been leaning against the wall, thumb lightly tracing the rim of the beer bottle in his hand as he blankly stares around the room. Throughout the night, Logan's eyes impulsively shift in your direction, tuning into the conversations you're having with - what feels like - everyone but him.

Mary Puppins zooms by, stepping on his boots in the process. She must've caught a whiff of whatever Al's cooking. He bends down to pick up the stuffed Wolverine chew toy she dropped along the way, mildly concerned by the amount of slobber coating it.

"Nice hat."

Logan hears you chuckle behind him. He quickly turns around, tossing the toy somewhere far, far away before you could notice. And despite wishing all night for the opportunity to talk to you, he finds himself tongue-tied now that you're actually in front of him, awaiting his response with an amused expression. Get it together, dumbass.

"This thing? Well... it made the kid happy." He says, incapable of suppressing the smile that never fails to make an appearance whenever you're around.

The way your features soften releases a storm of arrows to his poor, old heart. Whatever anxiety he felt earlier increases tenfold, Logan takes a swig of his drink only to realise it's empty. With nothing to divert his energy to, he grips the bottle tighter, hoping the integrity of the glass is enough to withstand the force of his nerves.

"Thank you, by the way."

His eyebrows raise in confusion, "For what?"

"Few weeks ago. When I got home totally wasted." As your cheeks turn a little red at the memory, Logan wants to relive that moment over and over again.

"Oh... yeah." He huffs lightly, gaining a smidge of confidence from your flustered state. It gives him just enough courage to throw in a cheeky comment, "At your service."

He's mighty pleased when you giggle, biting his lip to control the proud smile aching to take over. Logan studies you briefly, and if he didn't know any better, you almost seemed nervous too? That possibility sends his mind reeling in excitement. Perhaps you also feel something here?

The shrieking sound of a party blower has him wincing, the plastic hits his cheek as Wade sneaks up right next to him with a wide grin, "Sugar bear! Don't mind me, I overheard you tell Yukio about your date tomorrow. Now, spill. Who is this mystery man and does he have a twin by any chance? Brother or sister - daddy's not picky."

Logan's initial reaction to harshly shove the man aside dies in an instant when you laugh rather bashfully at the question. He prays to god it's another one of Wade's fucking jokes. However, that hope flies out the window as you hesitantly ramble on about this guy. Excusing himself, he leaves the apartment, ripping the party hat off in agony - not witnessing the guilt eclipsing your emotions.

Droplets of sweat linger at the ends of his hair as he places the last of Laura's cardboard boxes on the floor of her new apartment. After weeks of mulling it over, she decided to move a little further away, complaining about how rent was becoming too crazy. Logan offered to support her financially till she was good on her own, yet she strongly refused just as he expected.

Since she was no longer your neighbour, the chances of running into you dwindled over time. He saw you in passing last month when he came over to help Laura with apartment hunting. The logical part of his brain convinced him to not stick around, desperately clinging to the idea that you're not interested. But catching your expression fall as he dismissed your presence nearly made him run back to wrangle you into his arms, to whisper apologies and beg for forgiveness.

After an especially tiring day, Logan returns home, crashing onto the couch with a sort of emptiness as he stares at the ceiling. Both his roommates are muttering in the corner, afraid to call out his incredibly irritable mood of late - instead, walking on eggshells whenever he's around. It seems that Wade loses the hushed argument, settling a good arm's length away from him.

"Peanut." He drags, slowly, "Al and I are... worried about you. As much as this brooding, tough guy act is really doing wonders for my sexual wellbeing, I just can't let you Debbie-Down-Pour all over this parade."

"The fuck you want me to do?"

"You need a one-way ticket to pound town-" He chirps, and when Logan grunts angrily, Wade shrieks, shielding himself from any incoming attacks, "Don't hurt me!"

The aroma of coffee tingles his senses as he takes an exaggerated sip, ignoring the need to continue such an aimless, one-sided conversation. Across the table is one of Vanessa's acquaintances, Karen or Kira - he can't remember - mindlessly explaining why her previous dates didn't work out. Logan forces a nod here and there, humming in pretend acknowledgement while he concocts some plan to seriously bash Wade's head against the nearest wall.

In all honesty, he didn't know how the hell that bastard persuaded him to entertain this woman for the night, making a note to check his alcohol for any suspicious substances later. What he did know was that this was going as terribly as he thought. And while he might be awfully rusty in terms of dating, Logan's certainly not oblivious to basic body language cues. Deciding twenty minutes of this torture is enough, she hastily rushes out the building and that's the last of Karen he ever sees.

The grocery bags feel like cinder blocks in your hands as you walk down the street. Mentally scolding yourself for postponing this chore till the last minute, you huff in exhaustion, adjusting your grip every few seconds. A woman nearly bumps into you on her way out, you stagger backwards, watching her storm off. Startled by her rashness, you turn to glance at where she came from, gasping when you spot a familiar face.

“Logan?”

He snaps up, recognising that particular voice - your name leaves his lips softly. Mixed emotions swirl around his mind, yet, he can't help the way his heart jumps as you fill his senses, “Wha - what’re you doin' here?”

“I was just passing by... saw you through the window.” Your gaze drops to the half-finished cup of coffee opposite him, “Were you on a date?”

“Uh Wade - he...” Logan stutters for a moment, dumbfounded that you're even talking to him after his childish behaviour the last few weeks. He nods lightly as the unmistakable bullet of regret pierces his insides.

“It’s her loss anyway.”

God, he wants to apologise so badly. Your friendly attitude only serves to make him feel worse, but Logan thanks his lucky stars that you don't hate him. He definitely wouldn't have been able to handle any sign of resentment on your part - no matter how much he deserves it.

“What’s with the eggs?”

You laugh, looking down at the several cartons peeking through your bags, “I’m stress-baking.”

He's so lost in your eyes that it takes him a second to register your reply, nose scrunching in amusement, “Stress-baking?”

“Yes, it’s a perfectly valid activity.”

That draws a chuckle out of him. He raises his hands in defense, “I ain’t judgin’, doll.”

A comfortable silence takes over and Logan realises just how happy he is to see you again - how much he's missed you all this time. He opens his mouth to spill something out of pure impulse when you beat him to the punch.

“Why don’t you join me?”

It doesn't take much convincing and he's already fallen into a steady pace as you walk together - his fingers effortlessly hooking onto all the grocery bags. His chest threatens to explode when you lean towards him, moving aside for people brushing by. Logan wills his entire strength to not drape his arm across your shoulders in an effort to keep you safe.

Time becomes irrelevant when you're around. The frequency of his own laughter shocks him at first, but he's not really thrown off by the joy you bring out of him because - well, of course, you do. It's safe to say that Logan can't bake to save his life, though he doesn't mind this particular weakness as you giggle at his dreadful attempts to mix the cookie dough. Shamelessly, he watches you come closer, breaking into a tangent about proper kneading techniques - if you ask him to repeat any of it, he'd be stumbling over his words like a fool.

Eventually, he makes something that somewhat resembles your example. He dips his finger into the dough and lifts a small piece in your direction, "How's this?"

When you gently grasp his hand to lick the sweet mixture straight off, he thinks he's trapped in some wild daydream. Logan stares at you in surprise, cheeks turning into a telltale shade of red. Your hums of approval fall onto deaf ears as he remains frozen, wondering how you're so quick to move on from that bold gesture.

Every little thing you do stains his mind - from the way you dance around to soft music playing in the background, the way you focus all your attention on him whenever he speaks, even the way you warn him about the oven as if he could get burned.

His expression must've turned serious by how you suddenly pause, peering at him in concern. Bearing a rush of emotions, the words pour out of his mouth without hesitation, "I am so sorry."

"I was an idiot and I... avoided you 'cause I couldn't deal with these damn feelings-"

He stops.

He's revealed way too much. And judging by your face, that was definitely a mistake. Logan shuts his mouth, jaw hardening as he fights something heavy crawling up his throat. His eyes land on the door and all he wants is to escape from this shrinking room.

A whisper of his name fractures the glass cage he's built up around his heart. His boots seem to be cemented to the floor, unwilling to break free even as you still in front of him - a mere breath away. Your hands rest against his cheeks, slowly turning his head so he's compelled to meet your tender gaze.

Not a single sound slips out of him before your lips are on his. His heart pounds in his chest, burning at sensation. Logan leans into the kiss, hands settling on your waist, holding you as close as he can. Relief washes over him, he tilts his head slightly to deepen his movements - his breath nearly giving out when you whimper softly.

The loud ding from the oven has you pulling back with a faint chuckle. Logan smiles too, letting out a sigh as he lays his forehead against your shoulder. He presses his lips to your collarbone, whispering against your skin, "Does that mean what I think it means?"

"The cookies... or us?"

He gently pokes your side at that comment, mirroring your dazed look. Between the quiet exchanges of laughter, he knows exactly what this means - what you mean to each other.

His muscles feel looser with each stride, embracing the breeze tangling with the warmth pooling inside from your touch moments ago. Logan makes his way home with a kind of ease he hasn't felt in forever, chewing on a cookie you insisted he taste.

As he walks through the door, Wade rests his chin on his hands, “So… how did it go? I see you’re enjoying the post-bang baked goods.”

Logan rolls his eyes, not wanting his mood to be spoiled. He grumbles under his breath, your name accidentally slipping out.

"You ran into angel-reincarnate?" Wade gasps, "Oh. Finally putting that horse cock to good use." Clapping excitedly, he follows after Logan, "Wait a second, this fic is tagged fluff. There'll be no fucking on my watch, partner!"

Logan slams the door to his bedroom behind him, blocking out Wade's muffled chattering.

"She had you cosplay as Paul Hollywood all night? Goodness! The power she possesses. I must gain all her secrets."

"Fuck off."

Wade grins to himself, quickly pulling his phone out to shoot off a text.

Wade: Project-Wolvie-Gets-Pussy is a go!

Laura: We are NOT calling it that.

[ramblingthoughtsofayoungadult]

All Press Is Good Press

A/N: This is part 2 to Bad PR. It feels like it took me way too long to write but I hope you enjoy it. Also, it's written with a black reader in mind and all credit goes to the original creators of the series and gifs.

Warnings: Some swearing, sensuality, and I was sick when I wrote this.

Word count: 9.3k

   

       “Run!” I shouted, shoving Marie behind me as Luke slowly approached us.

        My heart rate had slowed down dangerously, and I could hear my blood pulsing in my ears. Before I knew it, Luke’s body was ablaze and we flew at each other. At the last second, I set off my ability to block him from burning me and grabbed his shoulders.

        “Luke, breathe, it’s me, Y/N!” I pleaded.

        Luke’s eyes were both angry and hollow. “You were a part of this, you knew about this.”

       “I don’t know what you’re talking about but, if you extinguish yourself, we can talk about it,” I tried.

        “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

       He yelled as the fire around him increased and I felt my ability pushing against my skin as if it would rip itself out of me. But, I was desperate to put out his flames. I’d done it before and I could do it, had to do it again. The wind whirled around us and from the corner of my eye, I could see papers, fire, and other objects flying around us. Suddenly, the air around me felt hotter and something dark in Luke’s eyes flashed.

     I screamed as we flew several yards and he shoved me into the hard floor. Suddenly, the air stopped moving around me and I felt like I was suffocating under the heat. Luke kneeled above me and slowly wrapped his hand around my throat.

  “Luke…please…stop,” I begged, his hand warming with each word.

  I wanted to scream as he seared my neck but as soon as it started, it was over. Luke was suddenly off me and Jordan was standing in front of me in their masculine form.

   “Y/N, get out of here!” they yelled.

   “ I can’t believe you did that!” they seethed at me, moving as quickly as possible through the Crimefighting building hallway.

   It was the day after the joint interview with Marie and I hadn’t been able to sleep the night before. I knew Jordan would be furious since I told them that I would get Marie to recant everything.

  “Jordan, I’m sorry, I can explain.”

  At that, they stopped and whirled around to face me, fury in their eyes. “Okay, explain. Explain how you and that freshman decided to royally screw me over and keep me at Number Five.”

 “It’s not that simple, Marie has way more going on and she’s not trying to hurt anyone.”

 “And what about you? You were already Number Three and then you play along to kick me out of the number two spot?” They laughed humorlessly. “And the fact that they had you in white, making you look like a saint and show off the burn scar and the cast to highlight your sacrifice, genius.”

   The more they spoke, the more I wanted to cry. “I know it’s messed up and I know that this has made things difficult for you, but I can fix it, I promise.”

  “Like Liza would let you.”

 “I don’t have to do everything she tells me.”

“But you do everything she tells you. You say what she wants you to say, you post what she wants you to post, you wear what she wants you to wear, and you date who she wants you to date.”

“You’re the one who broke up with me, remember? You’re the one who said you wanted me to focus on my career, right, well, that’s what’s a part of it.” I adjusted my bag on my shoulder. “Just forget I said anything, I won’t bother you again.”

“Y/N…”

“Y/N, over here!”

  I flinched at the blinding camera lights but managed to smile, hand on my hip as I tried to reach all the best angles. The past couple of weeks had been a blur of flashing cameras, interviews, and tragedy. For some reason, school officials thought the best way to acknowledge all that was with a fundraising gala slash memorial for Brink.

   All the photographers were yelling different instructions and Liza hovered a few feet behind me, muttering notes. Turn my head this way, squint a little, laugh a little  It was eerily easy to smile for pictures, laugh when Andre messed up a TikTok challenge, and joke with some people on campus. For once, all the noise was nice, it was like a shield from anything bad. Then, when I was alone in my room, the thoughts came in.

   You’re a fraud. You should’ve partnered with Marie to give Jordan the credit during that interview. You weren’t strong enough to beat Luke, you never were. You’re weak and spineless. What did Jordan ever see in you? Sometimes tears came, sometimes they didn’t. It was probably a good thing that I was forced into attending this event.

   Liza had insisted I attend the gala that night, arguing that it would be bad publicity if one of Brink’s top students did not attend. Plus, it would not give the public a chance to see Andre and me interacting in a formal setting.

    After a couple of more pictures, I gestured to my parents, who were standing by Liza, to join me. They hesitated but Liza shooed them in my direction and they flanked me. When I took a second to look at them, they both looked so happy, not the kind of happy that I feigned but, true happiness.

     “You make this look easy sweetheart,” Dad chuckled.

      I sighed. “It’s all practice, Dad.”

      “Mr. Y/L/N, how do you feel about Y/N being a Guardian of Godolkin?” a reporter shouted.

       “Couldn’t be prouder of my little girl!” He called back.

       “She’s always been a hero and this is just another time she’s proved it!” Mom added, squeezing my side.

     I smiled sheepishly, the urge to tell the truth about that day bubbling in the back of my throat. Instead, I said, “It was nothing, I was trying to protect Marie and she didn’t really need my help.”

     Then, the crowd started to roar, and I glanced down the red carpet to see Andre and Polarity approaching us. They both had wide PR-approved smiles on as they posed together. When they reached us, Polarity shook hands with Dad, hugged Mom, and kissed my cheek.

      “It’s great to see you again,” he whispered before pulling away.

      “You too, Mr. Anderson,” I replied.

    Liza quickly coordinated our parents to move further up the red carpet and instructed Andre to stand on my right. “Her left is her best side.”

     He slowly wrapped his arm around my shoulders and I tried to relax my shoulders as the camera flashes continued. I couldn’t have been more grateful to Liza for not making us match. Instead, Andre’s light blue suit and my metallic silver halter gown were complimentary.

            “Andre, over here!”

            “They look great together!”

            “Andre, give her a kiss!”

            Andre laughed. “Not into PDA!” he called.

            “And we’re here as friends,” I added with a smile.

     Fortunately, Andre and I never had to do anything too intimate to garner attention. A few social media posts here and there and suddenly, we had the public filling in the dots that Vought wanted them to.

    After what felt like an eternity, Liza hurried us into the venue. The lighting was nice, not too bright nor too dark. Servers looped the area with flutes of champagne bubbling on top of their trays. A few alumni and upper-crust students were already mingling, all dressed in tuxes and gowns.

            “You two did perfectly, social media is going crazy about this,” Liza reported without looking up from either of her phones.

          “It’s not hard with a face like this,” Andre joked as he stroked his jaw.

            I laughed. “Please, I’m literally outshining you right now.”

            “I must say, you two do make a good couple,” Polarity commented.

            I smiled tightly. “Thanks.”

            “Now, don’t forget, we need you to get at least five shots together interacting with other attendees. Make it look natural, we don’t want to ruin the illusion,” Liza instructed.

            “Illusion is the right word,” I muttered.

            Liza arched an eyebrow at me and I stared back at her, offering a fake smile with a tilt of my head. “Watch the attitude, Y/N.”

            “Don’t worry, I’ll be delightful and charming to everyone I encounter,” I said.

      For a second, I glanced at Mom and thought I saw something flash across her eyes. Before I could address it, Andre gently pulled me further into the party.

     Schmoozing was an incredibly easy task. All one needed to do was smile, repeat the last thing the other person said as a question, and thank them for coming to the event. Andre and I spoke with around ten people, ensuring pictures were taken before we were left alone.

            “Nice job, partner,” Andre teased.

            “Back at ya,” I said, leaning on the table closest to us. “How long do we have to keep this up?”

            “An hour but, this,” Andre snagged a couple of champagne flutes from a passing server, “should make it go quicker.”             I smiled as I accepted the glass. “Thank you, but I meant this.” I gestured between the two of us.

            “What? Is there already trouble in the water?”

            “Please, Andre, I know I’m not your type. I’m not white nor am I taken.”

            Andre almost choked on his champagne and wiped his face. “What the hell are you talking about? “

            I rolled my eyes. “Cate’s my best friend, she tells me everything. But going after your best friend’s girlfriend, that’s pretty low.”

            “It’s complicated,” Andre muttered.

            I shrugged and downed the champagne. “How about we give it another couple of weeks and then you and Cate can go official and you won’t have to deal with fake cheating rumors?”

            “Y/N, I know this is a bad situation for both of us but, we’ve got to play it right.”

       Play it right, that’s all anyone was ever interested in. Finding the best angle or the best spin on things. It made me sick to my stomach knowing that all this had taken up the past five years of my life.

            “Don’t worry, I won’t use this as leverage to make you look bad,” I assured, setting my empty glass on a passing server’s tray.

            Andre opened his mouth to say something but cut himself off. “Sorry, I got to run to the bathroom. See you later?”

            “Sure.”

         As soon as he left, Dean Shetty and Marie appeared at my table.

           “Y/N, you are a star tonight,” Dean Shetty complimented, giving me a quick hug.

        Dean Shetty had been incredibly attentive in the last couple of weeks. Since the Luke incident, she insisted we had weekly check-ins and when I mentioned my sleeping issues, she gave me a prescription.

           “We can’t have one of our Guardians of Godolkin losing any sleep,” she’d said.

       With everything going on, it was nice to have someone as stable as Dean Shetty in my ear and in my corner. In our check ins, she truly listened to me and helped me make sense of the mess in my head.

            “Thank you, Dean, you don’t look too bad yourself,” I replied.

            “Y/N, wow,” Marie greeted.

            I smiled and gave her a side hug. “I could say the same to you.”

       She truly did look stunning in her floor-length red corset dress, her twists pulled away from her face. Her shoulders slumped slightly as she picked up the skirt to stand next to Dean Shetty.

            A server paused at our table. “More champagne?”

         I thanked her as I plucked another flute off the tray and started sipping.

            “You should be proud of Marie, Y/N, she’s done wonderfully tonight with our donors,” Dean Shetty said, squeezing Marie’s hand.

            The freshman smiled sheepishly. “I listened to Dean Shetty’s advice.”

            “You’re a quick learner and humble, that’s good,” I said, pointing at her.

            “I must also say that I am grateful that you joined us tonight. It would not have been the same without both of our Guardians of Godolkin,” Dean Shetty commented.

        No matter how much time passed, the name still made me cringe. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Marie scratch the back of her neck and stare down at the table.

            “Of course. Professor Brink was a large influence on my life and I’m glad that I was able to be here, honor his memory, and hopefully get more money for the school,” I replied.

            Dean Shetty seemed pleased and grabbed her clutch. “Now, if you would excuse me, I have a few other alumni to schmooze.

            As soon as she walked away, Marie slid closer to me. “How are you holding up?”

            “Great.” I downed the last of my champagne and used a breeze to slip another flute from a passing server’s tray into my hand.

            “Not to be a prude but, shouldn’t you slow down?” Marie asked.

            I smirked at her. “Don’t worry, Marie, I know my limits. This isn’t enough to get me to trip in my heels but hey, more people in your favor.”

            Marie sighed. “I’m sorry about you getting dragged into all this. This is never what I wanted.”

            “You didn’t drag me into anything; I knew what I was doing when I went along with the story,” I assured her. “Besides, you came to GOD U to be a hero, and you can’t be a hero without attention.”

          “But this wasn’t my plan. I was supposed to keep my head down and survive,” Marie argued.

          “Well, things rarely go to plan and your success has been fast-tracked, congratulations,” I muttered.

            “What’s going on? You seem a lot different since the last time we talked,” Marie commented.

            I swirled my glass. “Marie, I’m going to give you some advice, if you want to be a hero, you have to make sacrifices.”             “That’s something Brink wrote,” Marie thought out loud.

            “And he was right, but he left out the part where you don’t get to decide what to sacrifice. He also forgot to mention how you are a commodity and these people…these people who tell you that you are perfect and special turn around and say that there’s this one thing holding you back. You can keep this one thing but, you lose the money, the reputation, the followers, and the fans, and a hero is nothing without any of that,” I confessed. 

            “But, you have a choice,” Marie countered.

       No, I didn’t, no one did. But Marie would learn that eventually, and maybe we could sit down one day and compare notes. I laughed humorlessly at the thought and sipped more champagne.

            When would this night end?

            “Excuse me, are you Marie Moreau?” Mom asked, sidling next to me.

            Marie nodded. “Yes, I am.”

            “I must say it is a pleasure to meet you. I am Mrs. Y/L/N,” she greeted, extending a hand to Marie.

            “It’s nice to meet you,” Marie replied, shaking her hand.

            “Has Y/N been showing you the ropes of all this?” Mom asked, gesturing around us.

            “Yes, Y/N has been great with everything. I’m learning a lot from her,” Marie stated.

        I straightened up slowly and started drawing patterns on the tablecloth. “She’ll be Vought’s new favorite before we know it.”

       Marie flinched and her eyes widened while Mom looked at me as though I said there was a headless chicken doing laps outside. Honestly, I did not mean to be so surly but the words just slipped out.

            “Kidding,” I sang, downing the last of my champagne.

            “Do you mind if I borrow my daughter for a moment?” Mom asked.

            “Of course not.”

       Mom slowly guided me away from the table, taking a moment to pause and smile at the cameras as we made our way through the space. Her grip on my arm was firm----the way it tended to be whenever she was upset with something I did. When we were out of earshot from enough people, she turned to me.

            “Y/N, what is going on with you?” she asked.

            “Nothing, I’m having a great night. I’m wearing Laquan Smith, I’m drinking expensive champagne, everyone’s happy and smiling tonight; what else could I want?” I argued.

            “Do not lie to me, Y/N. You’ve looked miserable all night and I can’t stand it. Now tell me, you can tell me anything, honey, you know that.”

      Before Vought noticed me, it was relaxing to talk to my mom about everything: school, stress, crushes, and the future. Now, it felt like if I was not super positive, I would add a burden to her and Dad. They were doing so well now, and I was not going to mess that up. I could handle this, I’ve always been able to handle this.

       Then, when I looked back up at her, there was so much warmth and concern in her aging mahogany eyes. There was the slightest hint of a frown on her forehead and I suddenly felt this strange invisible weight lift from my shoulders.

            “I messed up so bad, Mom,” I whispered.

            “What do you mean, sweetheart?”

            “I messed up with everything. I’m barely hanging on in all my classes, my footwork is sloppy in training, and I totally screwed over Jordan, and they didn’t do anything to deserve it,” I rambled.

        Mom gently moved her hands to grasp my shoulders and pulled me into a hug. Tears burned my eyes but they wouldn’t fall as I embraced her warmth and the scent of peonies and lilac. She ran her hand over my head and hummed.

            “Nothing you said is anything you can’t fix,” she stated.

            I slowly pulled away and looked up at her. “What?”

            Mom sighed. “This is not the first time you have met a setback, Y/N. You’ve had plenty of them, from racist classmates to adjusting when Dad lost his job. You can improve your grades and work on your skills.”

           At her words, I nodded, wondering if I would know exactly what to say at that age.

            “What about Jordan?”

            “I know they make you happy and you would light up in their presence. So, I don’t think you two can’t make up,” Mom admitted.

            I rolled my eyes. “But what about Liza? If I go against her, I’ll lose all the backing and…and you and Dad will----”

            Mom held up a hand. “First of all, never roll your eyes at me. Second, your father and I will be fine. Our mortgage is paid, we both work now, and we’ll do just fine. Have you been worried about us all this time?”

            I nodded. “I know you really struggled before the Compound V took and I didn’t want to ruin anything for you two. You’ve been so happy, and I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

            “Y/N, you could never disappoint us. You have been so, so amazing your entire life. We’ve been so happy because we are just that proud of you and we know you’ll do amazing things,” Mom insisted. “Your happiness is important too, don’t ever forget that.”

       On instinct, I hugged her so tightly that I thought I would crush her. But, she patted my back to let me know that she was okay. Her laugh made me laugh and I felt like an idiot when I couldn’t stop laughing even when I pulled away.

            “But who says Jordan would take me back? They broke up with me and I played along with Vought and that must have hurt them.”

            “Try not to overthink it. Come on, their memorial video is about to start.”

      As the video played, I could barely focus on not looking at Jordan. They were sitting at a table with their parents across the room. Both were whispering animatedly to a suit while Jordan sat across from them, looking like they wanted to cry. Jordan rarely cried, not even when they dislocated their shoulder during a sparring match sophomore year. Their parents were always a difficult topic, and I was stunned when Jordan brought me to meet them during a parent's weekend.

            “Just try not to make any reference to my other form,” they’d insisted.

            “Okay, I won’t,” I’d replied.

       The Lis were nice enough but, they always referred to Jordan as “their son” or “my boy” or “he”. It made me nauseous just thinking about it and how many breakdowns they’d had about their parents not accepting them. I wanted to hug them or distract them with top-shelf liquor. Then, Jordan looked up at me and I knew exactly how deer felt in the headlights.

       My heart ached as I slowly turned away just in time to see a picture of myself and Brink flash across the screen. It was from sophomore year after I helped solve an ongoing serial robbery case. Jordan had helped me with that but insisted I did most of the heavy lifting.

      Finally, the video ended and I snatched another champagne flute from a passing server as Dean Shetty returned to the podium amidst the applause.

            “Professor Brink always had an eye for outstanding students, and I know that he would want all of you to continue your generosity to foster their talent. There are a couple of students I would like to highlight tonight,” she stated.

            Liza leaned over the table. “Remember, shoulders back, head up like a princess.”

            “Uh-huh,” I muttered.

            “And where is Andre? This would be a great photo op!” she hissed.

            “I don’t know.”

            “First is Marie Moreau, a freshman who has become an asset to our community as a Guardian of Godolkin, showcasing such courage and wit in the face of adversity.” Dean Shetty gestured to the left of the stage, where Marie stood and smiled at the applause. “Second is a name I know you are all very familiar with. Y/N Y/L/N has created a positive whirlwind before she stepped foot on our campus. She has used this whirlwind not only to inspire other young people to dedicate their time to philanthropy and their studies, but to assist Marie in protecting our campus.”

      The spotlight was harsh, but I took Liza’s advice and posed the best I could. I desperately wanted to look at Jordan, to tell them I did not want any of this, that I wanted them to have the credit, but I endured the second round of applause. When the applause ended and the spotlight went away, I grabbed my champagne.

            “Not bad, but your smile didn’t reach your eyes,” Liza noted.

            “I’ll work on it.”

     The bubbles tickled the back of my throat and I looked over at Jordan again. They were looking down at their hands as their parents continued speaking with a different suit. For a split second, I wished that I could switch powers with Cate and have an idea of what they were thinking.

“…and don’t forget to schmooze some other donors. Did you get pictures with Marie?” Liza droned.

“I think Y/N has done enough schmoozing for tonight, Liza,” Dad interrupted.

“Excuse me, Mr. Y/L/N, but my job is to make sure that your daughter is seen is the best possible light at all times and---”

“Would you all excuse me?” I asked, standing.

      Without waiting for a reply, I made my way across the room, ignoring some other kids who asked for pictures or donors who kept eyeing my backside. Once I was at the Lis table, I froze. I hadn’t prepared anything and my head was totally empty.

This was bad.

Just when I was about to sprint back to my chair, Mrs. Li noticed me.

            “Oh, Y/N, it’s so good to see you!” Mrs. Li exclaimed.

            Thankfully, my PR training kicked in.

            “Good evening, Mrs. Li. How are you?” I replied.

             She stood and hugged me for a few seconds “Oh, you look beautiful. Doesn’t she look beautiful, honey?” She turned to Mr. Li.

            “Yes, my boy knows how to pick ‘em,” Mr. Li said with a grin.

             I blinked back the shock of my words and smiled slowly. “Thank you. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

            “No, we were done,” Mrs. Li insisted.

     Suit Guy nodded and excused himself while Mrs. Li gently pulled me down to sit next to her. Jordan stared at me the same way they did when I disagreed with them on a floor plan on Property Brothers. Honestly, I couldn’t blame them.

            “Y/N, I must say, I was so sad when Jordan told us you broke up,” Mrs. Li admitted.

            That made two of us.

            “And it was so unexpected. You two were inseparable,” Mr. Li added.

            I nodded. “Yeah, well, things change.” I took a long swig of my champagne.  

            “And where are your parents tonight, Y/N?” Mr. Li asked.

            “They’re here. I think they’ve been talking Polarity’s ear off,” I replied.

            That wasn’t too much of a lie. Dad was happy taking pictures with him on the red carpet and Mom thought that he was okay.

            Mr. Li let out a low whistle. “Impressive. You and Andre do make a nice couple, no offense, Jordan.”

            “None taken, Dad,” they scoffed.

            I hesitated for a second. “We’re just friends…Andre and me, we’re just friends. We’ve just been hanging out a lot more lately.”

        For a second, I hoped Jordan listened to me but I couldn’t tell as their eyes wandered away from their parents and me. This was a mistake, such a stupid mistake. I had to get out of there, someway, somehow.

            Mr. Li raised his eyebrows. “My son may still have a chance?”

      I smiled as mysteriously as I could muster before downing the rest of my champagne. It did nothing to blot out the embarrassment rising from my neck and over my ears. Mrs. Li gently grabbed my uninjured hand in hers.

            “You’ve been so brave with all this, Y/N. Fighting Luke must have been terrifying. Oh, I couldn’t imagine!” she exclaimed.

      No, she couldn’t imagine seeing those glowing eyes every time she blinked nor tensing every time she had to go past Brink’s office to get to the super nice bathroom in the Crimefighting building. She couldn’t possibly imagine all the stupid questions she would get asked or the strange itching pain the burn around her neck caused.

            “It was,” I whispered, glancing at Jordan.

            They finally looked at me but this time, I was thankful they didn’t have laser vision. I quickly set aside my empty glass and turned back to Mrs. Li.

            “But you survived and sacrificed so much,” she added.

            “You could say that again,” I replied.

            “That’s Y/N, always sacrificing herself for someone else,” Jordan seethed.

      It was awful being on Jordan’s bad side and I was doing nothing but exacerbating the situation. There had to be some escape route that I could take. Someone I knew had to come by or someone could maybe ask for a picture.

            “Jordan, don’t be rude,” Mr. Li admonished. “I thought I raised my boy better than that.”

     There was something about Mr. Li’s tone that made my stomach lurch. Or maybe it was the distressed way Jordan looked away and was suddenly fascinated with the fairy lights that hung on the walls. All I knew was that I was slowly pulling away from Mrs. Li and straightening up.  

            “Did Jordan ever tell you how we first met?” I asked.

            “No, never,” Mr. Li said, glancing at Jordan.

            “It was freshman year during the mid-terms. I was slammed with so many assignments that I thought I was going to drown but before that, I would bomb all my classes, especially Brink’s. One night, I was in the library having a total meltdown because none of my index cards made any sense and there were only two days left until the exam.” I paused. “In the middle of my snot and tears, Jordan finds me surrounded by my notecards and books, picks up one of my notecards, and says, ‘I’d be crying too if I was studying something that wasn’t going to be on the exam’. Then, they sat down with me and helped me study. Totally saved my butt freshman year.”

      I left out the part about how they were in their feminine form and rolled their eyes every time I sniffled. But Mr. and Mrs. Li looked surprised but pleased at the same time.

            “I had no idea,” Mrs. Li said.

            “Yeah, Jordan’s always looking out for the people they care about, even if they won’t admit it.” I glanced at Jordan. “They deserve to be Number One in the Top Five and I hope that one day, I can be half the hero I know they will be. So, yes, Mr. Li, you raised a great child who will be a great person and I am happy to know them.”

      Though I could feel Jordan’s eyes on me, I quietly excused myself and slowly walked away. The lights and noise began to blur in front of me. Soon, I felt the tear slip down my cheek and hurried into the bathroom before anyone else could see.

            I immediately walked up to the sink and placed my hands on the counter. “Breathe, Y/N, breathe,” I said in choked breaths.

      It was a difficult fete since the tears started falling as soon as the door closed behind me. I didn’t know why I was crying, I thought I did something positive. Maybe I was crying because I screwed up or I said too much to Marie. Maybe I was crying because I hadn’t cried since the night Jordan broke up with me. Their words tore a piece out of my chest, and I thought that I wouldn’t be able to get back. Maybe I never would.

            The bathroom door suddenly flew open, and I screamed, “GET OUT!” Sending a blast of wind with my bad hand.

      A loud bang and bright light followed, extinguishing the wind without incident. My eyes flew open, and I turned to find Jordan, in their feminine form leaning against the wall. They seemed unimpressed and angry.

            “Careful, don’t want you causing damage to another building,” they deadpanned.

            I swallowed and started wiping my tears. “Why are you in here?”

            “To ask you what the hell was that back there? You just bulldoze in our conversation and say…that?” Jordan said.  

            “I’m sorry, I guess I’m tipsier than I thought,” I muttered.

            “No, this isn’t you tipsy,” Jordan argued.

            “Fine, I got upset when your dad kept calling you ��son’ and ‘boy’ and it just came out, okay?” I snapped. “I’m sorry I butt into your family stuff, it won’t happen again. We can go back to ignoring each other.”

            Jordan scoffed and walked closer to me. “You mean, you can go back to ignoring me?”

       Were they really arguing with me about ignoring each other? They had been ignoring me this whole time as well. No in-person conversations, no texts, no calls, not even social media interactions.

            “I’m not going to argue with you about this,” I said, my voice hoarse.

            “Look, I’m not going to pretend like after two weeks of nothing, it’s not insane that you would do that,” they continued

            “Okay, so I tried to do a nice thing for you and screwed it up, I’m sorry.”

            “I don’t want your apology.”

            “Then what do you want?” I glared at them. “I tried to fix the Luke and Brink mess but that backfired. Then, I tried to stand up for you in front of your parents, but I screwed that up too. Every time I try to do something nice for you, I end up hurting you instead and I’m tired of it. I don’t like hurting you and if we have to stay away from each other than fine.”

       Jordan was quiet for a long time and during that time, their eyes never left mine. They always had such a cutting gaze, like they could see through everyone and everything. Sometimes, I would be curious and terrified at what they would find if they stared at me long enough.

            “You didn’t hurt me tonight,” they whispered. “I just don’t understand why you did it.”

             I sighed. “Because I still care about you. It’s stupid, right? You broke my heart and I still care about you.”

            “Y/N…”

            I sniffled and turned away from them. “I should get cleaned up before heading back out there. I must look like a mess.”

            For a moment, the only sounds I heard were my sniffling and rifling for the paper towels to fix my makeup. As I dabbed the makeup Jordan whispered, “You never look like a mess.”

      The next time I spoke to Jordan was the day Tek Knight guest-lectured our class. The tall, slimy idiot made the side of my mouth twitch with each word he spoke. His show was ridiculous but maybe that was due to all the editing to make him seem normal. He spoke so grandiosely, and I wondered how Cate, Andre, and Jordan dealt with being interviewed by him.

            “I can’t stand this guy,” Marie whispered.

            “You and me both,” I muttered.

            “…and, as all you know,” Tek continued, “I am a master at interrogation and I would love to take this moment to show you proper technique. Now, I’ll need a volunteer.”      Fortunately, no one raised their hands and I went back to skimming some old class notes. Hopefully class would go by quickly, Dean Shetty couldn’t let this man prattle on the whole time, right?

            “Cyclone, one of our Guardians of Godolkin. Surely, you wouldn’t mind? It could make up for our missed interview,” Tek said with a slight edge to his voice.

            “You can call me Y/N and, fine.” I stood, straightened my blazer that I wore with a houndstooth mini skirt, and strolled down to the seat at the front of the class.

       All that was missing was a blinding light and a seedy interrogation room. I folded my hands in my lap and relaxed into the chair. This would be fine, nothing at all. I glanced at my classmates, offering Marie a small smile and locking eyes with Jordan for a second. I could get through this, Tek Knight was nothing.

            “Miss Y/L/N, I appreciate your participation,” Tek began. “Why don’t we start by going over the events of your friend, Luke’s, death?”

            I swallowed. “I have relayed the story many times, Mr. Knight, unless you didn’t see any of my interviews.”

        That earned a small laugh throughout the class and Tek’s jaw clenched but he smiled.

            “No, I can’t say that I have, I was too busy investigating the details of his death. So, humor me, please,” Tek requested. “What was that day like?”

            Easy.

            “It was a normal day. I had a morning class on forensics and then I had lunch with Cate. After lunch, I did some homework and I decided to go see Professor Brink about an assignment,” I said.

         That day, I did not need to talk to Brink but I had told the lie so much that no one would second guess it.

            “Your pupils just dilated, you’re lying,” Tek said in delight.

            I rolled my eyes. “I’ve told the story fifty times, I think I remember it correctly.”             “Ah, notice class just how defensive she got,” Tek instructed. “Why were you really there?”

     I paused again, my eyes glancing at Jordan. Their expression was unreadable but their jaw clenched for a moment. That day, I went to see Jordan and apologize for everything that happened with Liza since we had not spoken when we all went out the night before. However, Jordan was particularly icy about it and I ended up running into a frantic Marie.  

       A chill ran up my spine at the memory and I turned my attention back to Tek. He was waiting with bated breath and I wondered how much he got off on these.

      “I wanted to talk to Brink about an assignment,” I repeated.

      “Tell that to the sweat on your forehead but we’ll circle back to that. What happened when you got to his office?”

            “When I walked into the building, I saw Marie was in front of his office.”

            “And you didn’t think that was strange since she was a freshman?”

            I shook my head. “No, she was a fan of Brink’s work so it made sense that she would try to talk to him.”

            “Was anyone else there?”

            Yes.

            “No.”

            “Another lie. Who else was there, Y/N?”

            “Marie, Marie was the only person there.” I willed myself to calm down.

            Tek faced the class. “Notice, class, that Y/N is rubbing her hand on her forearm, a classic self-soothing gesture. We are one step closer to the truth!” Then, he whirled back around to me. “Who else was there, Y/N?”

            “Marie. I didn’t see anyone else.”             Tek shook a finger at me. “Oh, you’re a tough one, Y/N, and those are my favorites to break.”

            I huffed and glanced at Dean Shetty, who offered me a pity look. “Do you have any other questions?”

            “Plenty. What happened when you got to Brink’s office?”

            “Well, Marie was nervous to talk to Brink so I knocked on the door. There was no answer, and I opened it and I saw Luke burning him alive,” I said quietly.

            “The downcast eyes and lower tone suggest that not only is Miss Y/L/N telling the truth but there is emotional weight to it.” Tek gestured to me. “Please, continue.”

            “When Luke saw us, something was off with his eyes. He was…infuriated and he looked hurt.”

            “What did he say to you?”

            “He said that we shouldn’t have seen that and now we had to die.”

            “That must have been painful and scary, you had been friends for two years, correct?” Tek asked.

            “Yeah, around the time he and Cate started dating,” I confirmed.

            “What happened next?”

            “I told Marie to run and I tried to hold him off. We got into a pretty intense physical fight and I was able to extinguish his flames long enough for Marie to do some damage,” I reported.

            “We can see that it must have been very difficult with your injuries. What made you think that you could beat him?”

            I paused and looked at him. “Excuse me?”

            “Well, according to your record, you’ve fought Luke three times, lost twice, and ended in a draw once. To go from that to disarming him is a large leap.”

       My heart rate started to pick up and I brushed a loc out of my face to distract myself. I just had to stay calm and answer everything with confidence. Confidence was all anyone needed, Liza preached it enough.

            “Yes, Luke was incredibly strong and near-impossible to beat,” I added.

            “But you’ve extinguished his flames before? And you still lost? How did that work?”

       It was an easy gig when Luke was caught off guard. The most I could ever do when sparring with him was play defense. I could feel the heat of his flames still and the flash in his eyes.

            “Just tell them what they want to hear,” Liza’s voice coached in my ear. “No one wants the truth, they want what we tell them.”

      But what was the point of that? Why couldn’t Jordan get the credit? What truth would that be hiding? That they’re a good hero? What was the point of me fake-dating Andre? Who were we placating? Why did I have to play to anything?

      Slowly, I glanced at Marie and then I glanced at Jordan. Marie looked like she was holding her breath while Jordan was hyper-focused. I wondered if Marie knew how insightful she was or could be.

            “It didn’t,” I stated.

      Tek smiled like the Cheshire cat and everyone’s expressions around the room shifted from bored focus to interest. My heart was pumping in my ears and my breath was starting to speed up, but I had to keep going.

            “What do you mean?”

            “I tried to extinguish Luke’s fire that day but it didn’t work. It had worked during one of our sparring sessions but, his guard was lower and I took advantage. The day he died, I panicked,” I reported.

            “The Cyclone panicked under pressure?” Tek asked.

            “Yes, I was scared. Luke was never malicious in our fights, and I could tell he wanted to kill me. Plus, I had to protect Marie but, I ended up making things worse.” I took another deep breath. “When I tried to extinguish the fire, I exacerbated it and set fire to almost everything around us. Luke tackled me to the ground, and I landed wrong, which is how I broke my wrist.”

            “That is a harrowing story, Miss Y/L/N. What happened to Marie?”

            I looked apologetically at her. “She ran and I didn’t see where she went. For a minute, I thought I accidentally got her burned too.” My eyes went back to Tek.

            “And how did you escape?” Tek asked.

            Here it goes.

            “Jordan stepped in and tackled him off me,” I admitted. “Because they’re indestructible in their male form, they weren’t hurt, and they were able to hold him off long enough for me to escape.”

            There, it was all out there. I felt lighter than I had in weeks, and I could have cried at the feeling. For a moment, I wondered why it took me so long to just admit the truth.

            “I thought you said there was no one else there?” Tek countered.

            “I lied.”

            “Why lie?”

            “Partially to protect and help Marie. This situation was beneficial for her, and I played along to help. But she also doesn’t need this to prove how great she’ll be one day.”

            “So, is Jordan part of the reason you were there that day?”

            “Yes,” I admitted. “They’re the reason I was at Brink’s.”

            “But why?”

            “That’s your favorite word,” I scoffed. “I lied to protect myself. I went to Brink’s office to see Jordan to apologize.”

            “Apologize for what?”

            “To apologize for the position I put them in.” I willed myself not to glance at them because if I did, they might telepathically make me shut up.

            Tek walked closer to me and leaned over me a little. “And what position is that?”

            “I made them feel like a burden when they weren’t, they never were,” I whispered, eyeing Tek.

            Tek nodded. “That’s right, you two were an item.”

            “They broke up with me because they thought they were helping me but, they couldn’t have been more wrong. Jordan challenged me and made me think deeper about things.” Tears burned my eyes but I kept pushing. “But the facts are that Jordan protected everyone from Luke, not me and not Marie. You can quote me on that.”

      I crossed my arms and noticed I was breathing harder than usual. Was this panic or relief? How could anyone tell the difference?

            Tek smiled like the Cheshire cat as he continued to circle me. “Notice how even though she got defensive, she is relaxed. Ladies and gentlemen, we have found the truth!”

       Some sporadic applause broke out and Tek leaned over to shake my hand, but I stood, brushed past him, and headed back to my seat. On the way, I could feel everyone’s eyes boring into me but for the first time in a long time, I could not have cared less. Marie was stunned when I grabbed my bag and slung it over my shoulder.

            “What was that?” she whispered.

            “I’m sorry but you were right, I had a choice,” I whispered back.

     Marie hesitated but nodded as I turned and walked out of the class. Finally, the truth was out there, and it would spread like wildfire on Twitter, TikTok, and Instagram. Part of me wondered how long it would take for the news to reach Liza and another part of me wondered how that conversation would go. She would be infuriated and try to work on a counterattack but, I also could not bring myself to care too much. I did care about how my parents would feel once they found out. They had no idea that I lied.

      The sun was brighter than usual and the students frantically typing on their laptops or talking on their phones were productive, not overly stressed. There was a sense of calm over campus, and it made for a nice ambiance for my walk back to my dorm. As soon as I walked in, I got a FaceTime call from Cate.

            “Okay, what was that with Tek Knight?” she interrogated.

            “Wow, those kids work fast,” I commented, setting my bag on my desk.

            “Seriously. Did you skip the interview so you could do…that?”

            “First of all, I skipped the interview because I had a shoot with Nike that I was contractually obligated to. Second of all, Tek wanted the truth and I gave it to him.”

            I flopped down on my bed and propped my phone on my side table so that I could see Cate’s frowning face which was a mixture of shock and pride.

            “Well, I know this is super therapist-y of me to ask but how are you feeling?” she asked.

            “I feel light. It’s true about the truth setting you free, you know. I feel like I can fly,” I drawled, stretching myself out further on my bed.

            “Technically, you can already fly,” Cate teased.

            “Not the point, Cate. I didn’t realize how much Vought and Liza caged me in. If this is what they did to me, I can’t imagine what they did to Luke.”

            Cate hummed, a solemn expression rolling across her pretty features. “I knew he was under a lot of pressure but…” Cate cut herself off. “Anyway, I am happy that you are feeling better; you can only hold things in for so long before you snap.”

            “Like you would let me snap,” I teased.

            “Of course. Are you worried about your parents?” Cate asked.

            I shrugged. “Only the fact that they had no idea I lied about any of this. I told you how my mom and I had a heart-to-heart at the gala. They want me to be happy and this feels like a good start.”

            “I want you happy too. I gotta get back to psych before Professor Banks sends someone looking for me.”

      As soon as she clicked off, I put my phone on Do Not Disturb and rolled onto my back. This seemed like a fantastic moment for less noise.

            Knock! Knock! Knock!

            Or not.

            I huffed as I pushed myself off the bed and made my way to the door. “I am not going to do any of those stupid TikTok interviews or----”I stopped when I saw Jordan staring back at me.

            “Sorry, I didn’t come by for a statement,” they muttered.

            “N-no, it’s fine.” I stepped aside and they quickly brushed past me.

     As I closed the door behind me, I willed my heartbeat to slow to a normal rate and wiped my palms on my skirt. Jordan dropped their bag in the middle of the room and whirled around to face me.

            “Why did you do that?” they demanded.

            “I wanted to tell the truth,” I answered.

            Jordan laughed humorlessly and rolled their eyes. “Sure you did. Is this another ploy from Liza that you’re playing along with? I’m wondering how exactly this is going to screw me and make you look better.”

            I shook my head and took a couple of steps closer to them. “There’s no ploy! You’ll believe me when the rankings come out.”

            “Oh, I’m sure nothing will change except you might be at Number One this time,” they seethed.

            “Why are you mad at me? I did what you’ve been asking me to do since this whole thing started.”

            “But I didn’t want you to make yourself look bad in the process!” they exclaimed.

    As their words sunk in, I had a chance to think. Class was not over for another thirty minutes, and Jordan never skipped class unless they were deathly ill. At the gala, I did not see Jordan or their parents until I approached them. At the time, I thought they were avoiding an awkward conversation----that still happened-----but now, I wondered if they were trying to protect me or themselves from something. When we broke up, they disappeared until that night Cate practically forced me to go out with everyone and even then, we never spoke. I thought they were avoiding me because they were angry but maybe they were hurt. And when they yelled at me to run from Luke, they almost sounded…scared.

            What did that mean?

     Slowly, I closed the distance between us, swallowing at the tension rising in the room. “I don’t care about rankings or social media engagement right now. If anything happens, I can bounce back but like I said the other night, I care about you and I am tired of hurting you. I know that my lying about what happened with Luke and Brink was messed up and must have caused a different kind of pain and I wanted to make it right.”

            “There’s still smarter ways of doing that, Y/N. Did you coordinate with Liza or something? And what about Marie?” Jordan rattled.

            “No, I decided on my own and Marie inspired me to do it. I had a choice, and I made the right one,” I argued. “Can you please just enjoy the glory and attention you’ll get from this and stop trying to poke holes in it?”

            Jordan shook their head. “No, not when I know there’s an angle to this.”

            “You want an angle? Here’s your angle: I love you and I wanted to help you, just like I tried to at the gala. If it lowers my ranking or makes me lose followers, I don’t care!” I announced. “I am sick of spending hours making sure total strangers like me and avoiding mistakes. I can help other black girls outside of being a hero, through charity or promoting positive representations of us in media. So please, for the love of all that is good in the world, just accept what I did and enjoy the benefits!”

     It was only when the silence filled the room that I realized what I had said. My face immediately warmed, and I felt kind of nauseous. The fact that we never really said the L-word to each other in a year and a half of dating was ludicrous but, we agreed that we did not have to say it if we felt it from each other. It sounded great at the time but the truth was that saying it out loud made it more real.

     Suddenly, my dorm did not feel like the safe space where I could cry, binge-watch Psych, or share a joint with Cate. I suddenly felt like a child again as Jordan stared at me wide-eyed. After a few seconds, they spoke.

            “Oh.”

    Great, that’s what every girl wants to hear after they confess their feelings to their ex. I ran my hands through my locs and started walking towards the door.

            “You can go now. Just try to keep the gloating to a minimum,” I whispered.

    Before I could make it to the door, I felt a familiar strong hand grip my good arm and pull me closer. I did not have time to react as Jordan pressed their lips against mine. This kiss was much different than any kiss we’d ever had, well, any kiss that I ever had. There was pain, passion, anger, lust, and tenderness.

             They slowly pulled away, barely a millimeter from my face, and I exhaled. “You don’t get to ruin your career for me, say that, and then kick me out of your dorm,” they growled lowly.

   A tingle ran up my spine as I leaned forward to kiss them again. It was strange that I had almost forgotten how good they were at this, how much I missed this feeling with them. I felt their hands run up the nape of my neck and pull gently on a couple of locs. I pulled away for a second.

            “You didn’t give me a chance to fight for us,” I muttered.

            Jordan sighed, trailing their hand from my hair to the back of my shoulders. “I didn’t think…I didn’t think I was worth it.”

             “Of course you are, you always were,” I insisted.

            Something lit in their eyes and Jordan smiled so widely that I thought they might crack. They gently pulled me in closer for a hug, scratching my back with featherlight touches.

            “I’m sorry I broke up with you,” they whispered into my shoulder.

            “I’m sorry that I made you think you had to break up with me,” I replied. “Thank you for saving me from Luke, sorry for lying about that again.”

            They groaned. “Please stop apologizing for that.”

            I laughed. “Okay.”

            “Besides,” they stood to their full height, “I didn’t do that great of a job.”

     Their eyes zeroed in on my bruised neck and then glided to my injured wrist. It was as though I could sense the doubt rising within them and I grabbed their face.

            “Hey, this was my fault, not yours. I’m here in one piece because of you, never forget that, okay?”

            “Well, I guess when you put it that way…” They smirked and I swatted their arm with my good hand.

            “Seriously, do not get a big head from this,” I instructed.

            “No promises,” They teased. “So, what now? I mean, I know you love me and all but where do we go from here?”

            “You know how I feel and I’ve done enough heart-opening speeches for one day. But, I would be lying if I said I haven’t thought about getting back with you ever since you broke up with me,” I said.

            “Well,” Jordan rocked back on their heels, “I would also be lying if I said that I haven’t thought about getting back with you too and those posts with you and Andre drove me nuts.”

            I raised an eyebrow. “You were jealous?”

            Jordan looked away from me for a moment. “He was looking at you all weird and flirty.”             “It was a fake relationship and you got fooled!” I cheered.

            “It didn’t look fake on his end,” Jordan grumbled.

            “Aww, is little Jordan feeling a little sad still?” I sang in a baby voice.

            “Don’t do that voice, Y/N,” Jordan warned.

            “Or what?”

    Quickly, Jordan’s hands started tapping on my sides in rapid succession and I could hold the giant laugh down. Somehow, I wriggled out of their grasp and made a run for it. I made it about halfway across the room before they tackled me into my bed, continuing their attack. I laughed so hard that tears were rolling down my face. After a few moments, they stopped, laughing as well and slowly playing with the hem of my shirt.

            “Seriously, though, what do we do now?” Jordan asked, slightly out of breath.

            I pushed myself up on my elbows. “Well, I’m open to sneaking around to ease us back into things but I’m also open to suggestions.”             Jordan’s hands slowly moved to rub my sides. “Then I would suggest that we pick up where we left off, if that’s okay with you.”

            I hummed, pretending to think about it, before quickly pecking their lips. “Of course, that’s fine with me!”

            “And you’re sure you don’t care what Liza says?”

            I nodded. “Can we please stop talking about her? You have a lot of making up to do.”

            “Me? You’re the one who chose a freshman over me.”

            “She had a compelling story!”

   I didn’t see Liza’s frantic missed calls or texts hours after Jordan and I competed to see who could “make up” the best. I didn’t see any of the memes or clips from Tek’s interrogation of me either. I didn’t even see the comments on our Instagram official post. All I knew was that I was at peace for maybe the third time in my life and I was not going to let anything get in the way of it again.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

A-Z Sherlock Fan Fiction Tropes Bingo

Ahhh, so I saw this Fanfiction Bingo Card by @swissmissing going around, and even though I wasn't ever tagged, I wanted to do some recs of my own because, like, that's my whole brand LOL. I hope no one minds...🙃 I needed to have a list ready for this Sunday, and this was perfect, LOL.

And because I'm always trying to overachieve on these challenges, I'm going to do full black out, BOTH tropes in each square.

This will be a Combination of my read fics and "to read" fics [to fill in spaces I don't have tags for], which I will append the latter with (MFL) just like so, for those of you who only want fics I've personally read. And apologies, I had to remove some of my standard links to fit them all within Tumblr's link limits, so author names aren't clickable AND I've removed all series' links, so be sure to check out other stories by the authors!!

AND FINALLY, this is a rare list that I DON'T have in word-count order, just so y'all know! I hope you guys like the fics I've pick for y'all. Literally random picks from my lists, based on tag searches, LOL.

AU: A Further Sea by i_ship_an_armada & ShinySherlock (E, 125,492 w., 23 Ch. || Historical Pirates AU || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Doctor John / Pirate Captain Sherlock, Sailing, UST / RST, Masturbation, Action / Adventure, Mild Angst & Peril, Romance, Shaving, Molly/Janine, Bottomlock, Hand / Blow Jobs, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, Mild Violence, Facial Shaving, Happy Ending) – Here be a tale of adventure for both body and soul, but beware if ye be not of stout heart, for this be piratelock, ya savvy? Luckless ship's surgeon John Watson takes a chance, and finds himself eye to eye with The Ghost, the scourge of the seven seas and a definite thorn in the side of the blaggard, James Moriarty. But when John finds there's more to this most cunning pirate than be meetin' the eye, he has to choose... is it a pirate's life for him?

Amnesia: I Need You To See Me by Mssmithlove (E, 12,625 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, Amnesia, Soldier!John) – After going back to war, John is yet again invalided home, this time with a broken ankle and a chunk of his memory missing, unable to recall the last five years he's spent being Sherlock Holmes' partner and husband. Part 9 of Happiness Awaits

BDSM: Lock and Key Series by 221b_hound (E, 59,509+ w. across 14 works || Series WiP || Post-HLV, Tattoos, First Kiss/Time, Anal, Hand Jobs, Captain John, Cuddling, Sherlock's Scars, Possessive Johnlock, Exhibitionism / Voyeurism, Frottage, Blow Jobs, Masturbation, Sherlock in Panties, PWP, Dirty Talk, Sexual Fantasies, Restraints, Photographs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Light BDSM, Assorted Kinks, Sherlock in a Sheet, Sex on Furniture, Domestic Fluff) – John has been back at Baker Street for a year, following the debacle that ended in Mary's death. Things are good. Back almost to what they used to be. Sherlock might wish they were something else, now, but he only has himself to blame, he thinks. It's too late, now, for the things he first denied before he'd ruined any chances he might have had. Sherlock also thinks that people who get tattoos are idiots. But perhaps he's about to learn a thing or two, not least of which might be it's not as late as he thinks it is.

Bodyswap: Inexplicable by emmagrant01 (E, 34,664 w., 6 Ch. || Body Swap, TSo3, Magical Realism / Artifacts, Infidelity, Angst) – So what was in that matchbox, anyway? John and Sherlock find out, the hard way.

Crossover: Perdition's Flames by i_ship_an_armada (E, 63,435 w., 21 Ch. || Star Trek Fusion || Established Relationship, Genetic Engineering, Angst & Fluff, BAMF!John) – Sherlock would do anything to save him. Risk anything. Give anything. His money, his life. His soul. What he does, though, is change both of their destinies forever. Genetic re-engineering is the only option left. It turns out researchers underestimated the life expectancy and potential abilities of genetically re-engineered subjects. The British government and what would eventually become the United Federation of Planets, however, had not. Part 1 of PF Universe

Crack: Fucking Cake by Random_Nexus (E, 12,965 w., 1 Ch. || Pre-Slash, Humour/Crack, Inanimate Object Smut, Frottage, “For a Case” / “Experiment”, PWP / Kinky, Mutual Pining, Fluff) – Sherlock brings home a chocolate cake, John finds him about to have sex with said cake, then exceedingly weird hijinx ensue. Part 1 of "Fucking Baked Goods" - Sherlock BBC

Domestic: Back to the Start by slashscribe (M, 14,088 w., 1 Ch. || Sherlock’s Violin, Pining Idiots, Fluff, Domestics) – Sherlock hasn't played the violin since John's wedding (which is long since over), and when John returns to 221B, Sherlock relearns the violin as he and John relearn each other. Post S3 fic with an obscene amount of pining, idiocy, and attempts to pawn off tea duties.

Disability: Breakable by MissDavis (E, 117,627 w., 34 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Established Relationship, Major Character Injury, Fluff/Angst, Depression, Paralysis/Disabilities, Hurt/Comfort, POV Sherlock, Mental Health Issues, Drug Use, Happy-ish Ending) – After John is seriously injured, Sherlock struggles to figure out how to help him, keep himself sane, and maybe, just maybe, get their life back to the way it's supposed to be. Part 1 of Breakable Not Broken

Established Relationship: Caught In The Act Series by ShirleyCarlton (E, 9,217 w. across 7 works || Established Relationship, Unintentional Voyeurism, Alternate POVs, Humour, Blow Jobs, Walking in on Someone, Switching, Public Sex) – This is a series of six scenarios written from the points of view of six different people as they accidentally walk in on Sherlock and John having sex.

Enemies to Lovers: Synchronicity by Calais_Reno (T, 46,424 w., 10 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Case Fic, POV John, Bullying, Coming Out, Forgiveness, Drinking/Bars, Boarding School, Drunk John) – John and Sherlock meet again, years after they were school boys together. John hasn't forgotten why he still hates Sherlock Holmes. (MFL)

Future: Uncharted Territory by J_Baillier (T, 19,603 w., 4 Ch. || Dystopian Future / Black Mirror AU || Alternate First Meeting, Angst, Drama, Homophobia, Bisexuality, Technology, Humour, Romance, Near Future, Happy Ending) – The System puts people through a series of assigned relationships in order to determine who their Perfect Match is. John believes that it works; Sherlock really, really doesn't. One of them is probably going to be wrong.

Fluff: A Lifetime Together by LondonGypsy (M, 8,886 w., 1 Ch. || Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Falling in Love, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Pining Idiots, Alternating POVs, Domestics, Retirement) – John and Sherlock falling in love.

Gen: Octopus by glass_rose_paperweight (G, 705 w., 1 Ch. || Established Relationship, Fluff, Bed Sharing, Limpet Sherlock) – A week after Sherlock and John finally get together, and John is finding sharing a bed with Sherlock Holmes to be ... difficult, sometimes. If not downright suffocating.

Genderswap: Cockscomb by birdie7272 (E, 115,302 w., 32 Ch. || Femlock / Gender Swap || Light Dom / Sub, Sensual Play, Cocks, Lace, Safe Words, Pining Sherlock, Case Fic, Truth or Dare, Slow Burn, Feminism, Relationships, Sexuality Crisis, Cheating, Power Play, Manipulation, Control) – Lace, whiskey, and a case full of cocks leads to a brand new kind of adventure. AKA The One With All The Cocks… When There Are No Cocks (MFL)

Historical: Enigma by khorazir (M, 289,667 w., 23 Ch. || Codebreaker / WWII / Imitation Game-Inspired AU || Case Fic, Espionage, Period-Typical Homophobia / Sexism, Pining Sherlock, Inexperienced / Virgin Sherlock, Implied / Referenced Drug Use, Non-Graphic Violence) – It’s the autumn of 1941, war is raging in Europe, German U-boats are raiding Allied convoys in the Atlantic, the Luftwaffe is bombing English cities, and the cryptographers at Bletchley Park are working feverishly to decode their enemies' encrypted communications. One should consider this challenge and distraction enough for capricious codebreaker Sherlock Holmes. But the true enigmas are yet waiting to be deciphered: an unbreakable code, a strange murder, and the arrival of Surgeon Captain John H. Watson of the Royal Navy. (MFL)

Humour: Equine Arse Anonymity by Kayjaykayme (E, 3,834 w., 1 Ch. || Established Relationship, Public Sex, Coming in Pants, Humour, Halloween, Hand Jobs) – Sherlock needs to speak with suspects at a fancy dress ball. He chooses a couple's costume for himself and John. It is logical, practical and well thought out. John doesn't agree and exacts sweet revenge.

Illness: Only To Be With You by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (M, 40,768 w., 4 Ch. || Black Mirror / Future AU || Character Death, Future Technology, Sickness/Cancer/Illness, Heavy Angst with Happy Ending, First Person POV John, Pining John, Heart-Wrenching Angst, Promise of Forever) – I tell myself that next time I’ll come near this same place again. Wait around for the mysterious stranger in his coat to dash past me, hot on the heels of a new criminal in black. I think this all the way back to my Exit, planning where I’ll wait and what I’ll say when I see him. Scheming on how to get his name. It’s only once I reach the Exit Point door that I realize two hours and forty-five minutes have passed, and I realize that this won’t be the last time I Visit. It won’t be the last time at all.

Imprisonment: THERE BUT FOR THE GRACE OF JOHN WATSON by skyefullofstars (T, 110,758 w., 24 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Angst, Violence, Whump, Nightmares, Murder, Drug Addiction, Torture) – While Sherlock grapples with his new-found feelings for John Watson, he faces a very real threat: John's kidnapping and shooting at the hands of James Moriarty. And the knowledge that the love of his life is being used to test an addictive drug - at the risk of John's sanity and life. Prequel to THE BOYS OF BAKER STREET. Part 1 of THERE BUT FOR THE GRACE OF JOHN WATSON

Jealousy: The High Tide Series by stardust_made (E, 15,269 w. across 3 works || OMC, Angst, Jealousy, Developing Relationship, First Time, Romance) – A little favour Sherlock stupidly agrees to do for Mycroft leads to John meeting a handsome, afluent man, who is going out of his way to woo him. Sherlock struggles with the situation and with his own reactions to it.

Jilted: Love Is Series by SilentAuror (E, 36,903 w. across 2 works || Post S3, Alternating POV Each Story, Angst, Unrequited Love, Rejection then Reconciliation, Romance, Mary Divorce, Eventual Happy Ending) – At Mrs Hudson's urging, Sherlock finally decides to tell John how he feels about him.

Kids: The Baker Street Nativity by SwissMiss (E, 99,662 w., 23 Ch. || Nativity! AU || Teacher Sherlock / TA John, Pining, Sherlock POV, UST, Angst, Christmas, Music/Song Fic, Anal / BJ’s, First Kiss / Time) –Fusion between Sherlock (BBC) and Nativity! (2009 movie starring Martin Freeman). Sherlock is a primary school teacher and John is assigned to be his classroom assistant. Together, they are charged with putting on the school's Nativity play. What could possibly go wrong? Part 1 of The Baker Street Nativity Verse

Kink: John and Sherlock's Kinky First Times Series by wendymarlowe (E, 247,051+ w. across 45 works || Series WiP || Short Stories, Assorted Tags with Assorted Genres, PWP) – A collection of short imaginings of how Sherlock and John might finally allow their relationship to become physical. Don't be afraid of the giant cloud of tags - each fic stands alone and you can read them in any order.

Long: Free Falling by twistedthicket1 (M, 203,574 w., 38 Ch. || Guardian Angels AU || Guardian Angel John, Fluff and Angst, Humour, Kidlock / Teenlock, Light Mystrade, Passage of Time, Possessive John, Drug Use / Overdose, Victor Trevor, Graphic Bullying, Big Brother Mycroft, Hard Drug Use, Depression, Possessive Sherlock, Possessive John, Panic Attacks, Nightmares/PTSD, Pining, Healing Abilities, Kidnapping, Violence, Torture, Blow Jobs, Virgin John, Emotional Development / Attachment, Mortality, Happy Ending) – All Guardian angels are born with a Chosen human. When this child is born, the angel comes into being to protect and care for them during their life on Earth. For John Watson, all he cares about in the world revolves around his Chosen, Sherlock Holmes. Watching him grow up though, the angel soon learns that God must have had a sense of humour the day he decided to make Sherlock, as trouble seems to follow him like a magnet wherever he goes. John can't decide what's worse, the idea of losing his Chosen one, or the fact that he may be breaking the most taboo law of heaven as he disguises himself as a human to better protect and befriend the beloved detective he's always watched from afar. He was meant to care for him. But what happens when caring evolves into something more? What happens when an emotion an angel is supposed to be incapable of possessing comes to life suddenly and viciously inside John's chest? 

Love Triangle: Isosceles by SilentAuror (E, 56,609 w., 7 Ch. || Post-S4, POV John, Original Male Character / Sherlock Dates Another Man, Love Triangle, Jealous John, Virgin Sherlock, Sexual Coaching, Angst, Romance, Domesticity, Unrequited Feelings, Miscommunication, First Kiss/Time, For a Case, Friends With Benefits, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Spooning) – After solving a case for a major celebrity, Sherlock gets himself asked out. When John asks, he discovers that Sherlock has no intention of going, at least not until John agrees to coach him through whatever he might need to know for his date...

Magical Realism: The Frost Child by twistedthicket1 (M, 9,994 w., 2 Ch. || Frozen-ish AU || Magical Realism, Christmas, Angst, Fluff, Powerful John) – In a world where people are born with a Gift of varying levels, simple John Watson is the last person one might look at when thinking of any strong Magick capabilities. Hiding comfortably in the shadow of Sherlock's brilliant deducing abilities, John is content to keep it that way...

Major Character Death: I Think I've Come A Long Long Way To Sit Before You Here Today by ArwenKenobi (T, 18,251 w., 3 Ch. || Grief/Mourning, Passage of Time, Major Character Death, Alternating POV, Sherlock Whump, Pining Sherlock, Hospitalization, Coma, Revenge Murders, Hallucinations, Love Confessions, Brutal Accident, Mystrade, Ghost John) – One year after John is killed Sherlock starts to wonder whether John has actually gone anywhere.

NSFW: Caves in the Mountains Are Seldom Unoccupied by starrysummernights & TheMadKatter13 (E, 7,925 w., 1 Ch. || Were-Creatures ||  Werebear John, Pseudo Bestiality, Rimming, Dub Con, Rough Sex, Come Inflation / Eating, Size Kink, PWP, Bratty Sherlock, Rutting) – “This isn’t something to play at, Sherlock,” he snapped. “If it doesn’t work out- what you’re asking of me- we can’t shrug and say 'oh well, at least we tried'. If we do this… I could seriously hurt you. Do you understand? I could lose control. I could… I could kill you.” 

Next Gen.: If Equal Affection Cannot Be by blueink3 (E, 31,156 w., 3 Ch. || Post S4, Family, Retirement, Grown Up Rosie, Angst, Reunion, Loneliness, Sussex, Fluff, Sexy Times, Happy Ending) – Sherlock fled London a couple of years after John left him in hospital with nothing but an old walking stick and a half-hearted goodbye. Rosie grew up thinking that Sherlock died when he committed suicide in front of her father by jumping from Barts' roof. So it's somewhat awkward when they run into each other in a Sussex general store between the loaves of bread and the Mars bars... (MFL)

Omegaverse: A Fold in the Universe by darkest_bird (E, 152,869 w., 26 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Omegaverse / Prime Universe Crossover || OmegaJohn / AlphaSherlock, First Kiss / Time, Friends to Lovers, Established Relationship, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Dubious Consent, Humour) – Alpha Sherlock and Omega John are in a relationship. Prime Sherlock and Prime John are not. So what happens when a freak fold in the universe switches one John for the other?

Only One Bed: The Cure for Snoring by Goddess_of_the_Night (G, 1,278 w., 1 Ch. || Sleepy Conversations, Bed Sharing, Cuddling, Fluff, Domestic, Platonic / Sleepy Cuddles) – Sherlock and John spend the night in Scotland after finishing a case. The sole Inn in town only has one room left...one bed. This would be fine - if not a bit awkward - if Sherlock hadn't developed a habit of snoring loudly. John suffers through many hours of sleeplessness before he discovers that skin-to-skin contact stops the noise. Part 1 of Dreamscapes

Parenthood: Iris by slashscribe (E, 11,948 w., 1 Ch. || Parentlock, Pining Sherlock, Post-S3) – Sherlock does his best to make John happy when John comes back to 221B with his new baby after the events of Season 3, but Sherlock has a track record of getting things wrong in this area. This story is an exploration of their gradual shift from friends to lovers, told from Sherlock's perspective, full of a lot of pining and lack of emotional awareness.

Platonic: The Green Blade by verityburns (T, 72,929 w., 15 Ch. || Case Fic, Bromance) – As a serial killer hits the headlines, the police are out of their depth and the next victim is out of time. With faith in Sherlock Holmes at an all time low, this is a case which will push loyalties to the limit...

Queer: Rupert Street by WritingOutLoud (M, 27,262 w., 9 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting || Case Fic, Sexuality, Demisexual Sherlock, Drugging, Smart John, Sherlock Has Internalized Biphobia, Fluff, Angst with Happy Ending, Gay Bar, Flirting, John Manipulates Sherlock to Eat, John Deduces, Arguments, Kidnapping/Torture, Hospitalization, John Whump) – Discharged from the war with nothing but the clothes on his back and a realisation of his bisexuality, John Watson has to learn who he’s become. He can’t afford London on an army pension, but the city is the only friend he has. In an effort to understand his newfound queer identity, he heads to a bar one night, where he stumbles across a mysterious stranger who turns his life upside down. ‘I dug around inside myself, and I'm not quite sure what I found, but it was beautiful and terrifying all at the same time.’

Quest: Licence to Kiss by fellshish (T, 13,739 w., 4 Ch. || Post-ASIB, Sort-Of Bondlock, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, Angst and Humour, Bed Sharing) – Sherlock loves John, and John loves... James Bond. He only made Sherlock watch every single film. Tedious. And now John's birthday is coming up. Sherlock can't tell him how he feels, but he can organise an amazing gift: John's very own spy adventure. Sherlock begs Mycroft for a real case with some extra gadgets. And perhaps some actors pretending to be criminals. What could possibly go wrong?

Retirement: Through the Clouds by Mazarin221b (E, 20,004 w., 6 Ch. || Retirement, Sussex, Bees, Home Improvement, First Time, Romance) – Sherlock takes a remarkably early retirement at 47, and convinces John that a change of pace would do them both good. They buy an old cottage on the South Downs, and exchange their nonstop life in Baker Street for quiet contemplation, bee studies, and book writing. They might go completely insane, but sometimes it takes stepping outside of the life you're living to find the life you want. Part 1 of Through The Clouds

Road Trip: Hitting the Water at Sixty Miles an Hour by what_alchemy (E, 30,568 w., 5 Ch. || Fake Rel., Road Trips, Slow Burn, Mummy Holmes) – “You love your mother, Sherlock?” John watched the muscles in Sherlock’s jaw jump. He nodded in one sharp jerk. “Then we’re going to her party and making her happy.” John let out a resigned sigh. “As a ruddy couple, you bastard.”

Soulmates: The Heart On Your Sleeve by flawedamythyst (T, 5,441 w., 1 Ch. || Soulmate AU || Sherlock POV, Heartmarks, Pining, Fluff and Angst, Semi-S1 / S2 Canon Compliant, Reunion) – Sherlock stared at the imperfect circle on his left wrist in horror, then sat down on his bed with a bit of a thump. After over thirty years, his heartmark was finally showing activity. This was not good.

Slow Burn: Tomorrow's Song by agirlsname (M, 24,645 w., 5 Ch. || Post-TRF, POV Sherlock, Angst with a Happy Ending, Virgin / Repressed Sherlock, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Pining, Jealous Sherlock) – How can he think a relationship with me would be a good idea? I am the sort of person to take a break from my life and when I come back after two years, I expect to find it exactly as I left it. In reality I find it shattered to pieces. (I actually equate you with my life. When did I start doing that?)

Teen AU: The Sky is Full of Fiddles by agirlsname (T, 25,659 w., 6 Ch. || 1895 Teenlock || Romantic Fluff, Bed Sharing, Swedish Folk Music, Dancing, Sherlock’s Violin, Poetry, Skinny Dipping, Summer Love, First Kiss, Proposals, POV John, Gay Surprise) – It's 1895 in the heart of Swedish folk music and dance. During certain weekends, boys are allowed to visit girls at night, wooing them with fantastical poems. If a girl lets a boy into her room they can share a bed all night, fully clothed, to talk and eat caramels together. John is seventeen and looking for a girl to marry like everyone else. He's very surprised when another boy suddenly stands outside his door, wanting to share his bed… (MFL)

Time Travel: The Engine by stitchy (T, 8,294 w., 1 Ch. || First Kiss, Post-HLV, ASiP Do-Over, Sci-Fi, Time Travel) – Shortly after the events of His Last Vow, Sherlock has an opportunity to revisit the night of A Study in Pink and get some perspective on the destiny of he and John's relationship.

Undercover: The Skin Over My Heart by standbygo (E, 8,849 w., 1 Ch. || Post-Hiatus, Fake Relationship, Case Fic, Dog Tags, Military, Homophobia, Gay Bashing, POV First Person Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Declarations of Love, Undercover, Haircuts, Flashbacks, Touching, Pining Sherlock, Hospitalization, Metaphors, Introspection, Hand Jobs, On the Couch, John’s Past, Angst with Happy Ending) – Sherlock and John are still trying to adjust to Sherlock's return from his hiatus when John's friend Bill Murray brings them a case. Someone is targeting the LGBTQA+ members of Bill's unit. John and Sherlock go undercover at the unit, but when they end up having to flirt to flush out the suspect, Sherlock realizes he's in over his head.

Unrequited: Love Is Series by SilentAuror (E, 36,903 w. across 2 works || Post S3, Alternating POV Each Story, Angst, Unrequited Love, Rejection then Reconciliation, Romance, Mary Divorce, Eventual Happy Ending) – At Mrs Hudson's urging, Sherlock finally decides to tell John how he feels about him.

Vampires: Bleed Me Out by antietamfalls (E, 87,987 w., 14 Ch. || Vampire AU || Bonding, Vampire Sherlock, Fluff & Angst, Hurt/Comfort, John Whump, Magical Realism) – John isn’t exactly surprised to discover that Sherlock isn't human. His vampirism doesn't pose a problem, even when their relationship gradually grows into something more. That is, until a deadly revelation about John’s blood sends their lives spinning dangerously out of control.

Villain POV: Genesis by pasiphile (M, 19,521 w., 1 Ch. || Graphic Violence, Moriarty’s Past) – Before he was Jim Moriarty, he was just Jimmy, a street kid with more pain in his past and more ambition in his head than he could handle, and only one other person he could bring himself to trust. Part 6 of This Life Is A Trip (When You're Psycho In Love) (MFL)

Whump: Trapped and Upside Down on the M6 by BootsnBlossoms (E, 4,256 w., 1 Ch. || Whump, Car Accident, Hurt / Comfort) – Everything felt wrong. His hair was going the wrong way. His arms were bent in ways he wouldn’t choose to bend them. His neck hurt and he couldn’t really feel his toes. Something was dripping on his face – and rolling up. A car crash. He had been in a car crash.

Werewolves: John Watson’s Moon by patternofdefiance (E, 11,314 w., 1 Ch. || Supernatural Creatures || Werewolf John, First Time, BAMF John, First Time, Anal, Fleeting Depictions of Violence) – Sherlock finds out John is a werewolf and wants to see the transformation. It, uh, gets really kinky.

Xenomorphism: Forest King by Elphen (E, 141,856 w., 27 Ch. || Magical Realism / Omegaverse AU || Mythical Creatures, Group Sex, Body Worship, Drinking / Impairment, Dubious Consent, Anal Fingering/Sex, Transformations / Shapeshifting, Mpreg, BAMF John, Possessive Sherlock, Celtic Mythology, Paganism, Sherlock’s Violin, Frottage, Illnesses, Caring Sherlock, Netherworld/Underworld, Coping Mechanisms, Paternal Lestrade, Defensive John, Big Brother Mycroft, Insecurity, Self-Esteem Issues, Misunderstandings, Mild Jealousy, Pregnant Sex, Male Lactation, Birthing, Emotional Support, Parenthood, Family History) – After falling out with his sister, John ends up in a Cornwall Midsummer’s Eve celebration in the middle of a forest that’s rather…different. After the hazy night of magic and passion with a pale-eyed man, he goes home to London. He’s in for a surprise when his stomach starts growing and buds appears on his head. Not one to just accept things, he returns to Cornwall to demand an explanation. When he meets the forest king, Sherlock, again, he has to come to terms with not only what’s happened to him but what kind of magical world he’s been thrust into. Plus, there’s the questions of whether he trusts the antlered man and how he'll survive being apparently pregnant. Sherlock isn’t much help. That doesn’t mean he isn’t trying to somehow make John understand his feelings, however, even if he’s greatly hampered by being Sherlock. They slowly move forward but problems beyond their control may arise from an act done with the best of intentions. How will they cope, separately and together? (MFL)

Xmas: Our Enthusiasms Which Cannot Always Be Explained by withoutawish (M, 32,961 w., 1 Ch. || Christmas, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Case Fic, Mild Gore, Sherlock Whump) – The list that is tacked haphazardly on the refrigerator of 221B reads, ‘Kidney(s), and/or a full cadaver (preferably male, late 30s, under six feet tall), bag of fresh toes, sixteen cow’s eyes (corneas retained), dual exhaust hand –held flame thrower, an unopened first edition copy of Joseph Conrad’s 'Heart of Darkness', and no less than ten abhorrently gruesome murders in the upcoming month.” The one neatly hanging next to it simply reads, “Sex.” One of these lists is not John Watson’s. If John Watson were to put what he really wanted in list form, to live in a land somewhere beyond ‘almosts' now that Sherlock Holmes has indeed returned to him, he would never be able to look his flatmate in the eye ever again.

Zombies: The Hollow Ones by antietamfalls (M, 100,244 w., 23 Ch. || Walking Dead Fusion || Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Slow Build, Emotional Constipation, Protective John, Hurt/Comfort) – The dead walk. Mangled corpses of the deceased rise and mindlessly feast upon the flesh of the living. John wakes up, alone and confused, into the remnants of a city gone mad. He will search for answers. He will find Sherlock at any cost. And he will learn that the living are far more dangerous than the dead. (MFL)

Zoomorphism: How to Build a Heart out of Ashes by Teumessian (E, 144,931 w., 31 Ch. || Changeling AU || Slow Burn, Drug Use, Mentions of Child Abuse / Bullying, Mentions of Student/Teacher Relations, Uni-Age) – In an AU where a small number of the population become Changelings at a young age, at 17 John Watson believes he's destined for Normal life but then the Change takes him and he is sent to the Baker Institute. There he meets Sherlock Holmes.

[lostidiot24]

Hi! *

First off loved dog days are over, is it OK to recuest a part 2? 0 ++++

Thanks, so my keypad is misbehaving.

Hi!!! I’m so happy that you liked it😭 and of course! I really liked the idea I had for this story and I’m glad other people enjoyed it.

🪽Mary on a Cross🩹

Batfamily x Gender Neutral!sibling!Reader

Part 1: Dog Days Are Over

Song: Mary on a Cross by Ghost

Summary: After being rescued by Dick, your life has been anything but normal. Being a vigilante has its own unique risks but this incident has made your family very aware. Turns out, seeing your family member half dead can make you question your life choices.

TW: Burns maybe? None?? If there is any then please tell me!

(This took me a while to write cause my brain decided to stop imagining for once in its life but I hope you like this part😁)

/——/——/——/——/——/——/——/——/——/

Your senses came back very slowly. You could feel your hand twitch before the sounds of people talking over each other invaded your ears. A gentle but scarred hand clasped yours in a tender manner before your mind cleared. With a jolt, you sat up frantically and shook in slight fear. Your eyes opened and quickly shut from the bright lights. Your family was worried even more when your eyes showing no sign that you recognized them. Your body had many weird reactions to things and one was fainting out of fear, so that’s what you did.

Silence surrounded the cot you laid on as your family stared at your unconscious body.

“At least they’re not scared anymore…?” Steph shrugged with a nervous smile as she grabbed the hand that Jason wasn’t holding. He glared at her before looking back down on your body with a worried gaze.

“They’re fine. They were out of it when Dick picked them up so they probably don’t know where they are.” Tim walked through the doors of the med bay and sat down on a chair near the cot. “We got them stabilized so now we just have to wait.”

/——/——/——/——/——/——/——/——/——/

When you woke up, it was peaceful. Your body swayed gently with a gasp as your eyes widened at the sight before you. Everyone was asleep. Tim was asleep on the spinning chair while everyone else either slept on a cot or on the chairs for people visiting. Bruce and Alfred weren’t in the room with you and you guessed that was because it was the day already. Based on the clock on the desk, it was 11:17 am. With a wobble, you stood up off the cot and tiptoed into the cave.

When you left the med bay fully, you looked down and saw that you were in some pajamas that looked like yours. With fear in your eyes, you checked and was relieved to see that they didn’t take off your vigilante suit. While yes, your wounds needed to be treated, you were glad that they respected your privacy. They treated the ones that could be seen from outside the suit but you guessed that there probably wasn’t any under anyway. You carefully tiptoed up to your room after you walked out of the cave and up the stairs. When you got where to your room, you changed into different pajamas and assessed the damage fully. Burns rose up your back and crawled over your shoulders and around your thighs.

How can I not feel them?

The clock on your bedside table glowed slightly as the numbers and the date lit up. It’s been a week?! Questions swirled in your head but you settled upon the theory that they put a lot of pain relief in your blood. A knock sounded at your door and you quickly put your shirt back down before opening it. It was Dick.

“[Name]! I was so worried when you weren’t in the med bay!” He quickly walked towards you and wrapped quivering arms around your body. The ache of pain ran through your back when his arms pushed upon the burns. Dick quickly realized his mistake and pushed away from you. “Oh sorry, forgot about that… oh and B wants to talk to you.” The mention of your adoptive father created a cold environment in your room. He wasn’t a terrible father! He just had too many kids to keep track of, or that’s what you tell yourself.

“[Name]?”

“Oh sorry Dick, I was lost in my thoughts but I’ll be down in a minute.” He gave you a warm and nervous smile while her turned away, walking down the stairs. You stood in your thought for a valid amount of time until you pushed past your door and started your trek into the unknown ground of Bruce’s emotions.

/——/——/——/——/——/——/——/——/——

A/N: I’m definitely gonna make another part that has some angst/comfort from my favorite brother Jason🤩 but for now I’m gonna leave it here and give my mind a break lol

[blu3-ja3]

Hello! So I want to establish O'Connor a bit more and how she views each member of the 141. All of these will be in first person not my typical 3rd person limited. We're going youngest to oldest so Soap up first.

!TRIGGER WARNING! Panic Attacks, Misguided Grief

1) Smart but Forgetful

Soap is a smart young man, in a way that's terrifying at time. I've watched MacTavish make a bomb from fertilizer, random metal scrap and a broken lighter. Ghost seemed turned on proud of his sergeant on that particular mission. It never fails to amaze me to watch MacTavish work out how much it would take for him to level a building. But he also has a nasty habit of not wearing proper protective gear when dealing with demolitions on and off the field. On the field I can let it slide but when we're on base it worries me to no end.

I've scolded him a great many times before I just started scolding Ghost as well. More often than not the two were together when Soap goes about his explosive work. Price found it hilarious that I've made it a rule that everyone has to carry a set of closed fingered gloves for Soap, that way if they're on field with the man and he starts his work they can give him the gloves so I don't have to treat chemical burns that could easily be prevented.

2) A Simple Gesture

The first time the young sergeant saw my scar he was kind and far more interested in my sleeve. It was late out. I couldn't sleep and figured working out until I was ready to collapse would be the best course of action. I was in a compression sports bra and sweats, I wasn't expecting anyone to be awake so I didn't bother wearing my typical long sleeve turtle neck. I was distracted and didn't notice Soap appearing in the door to the workout room.

"Who did your ink Cap?"

"JESUS, MARY, AND JOSEPH! MacTavish where the hell did you come from?" I practically jumped out of my skin as I turned around.

"My room? You okay Doc? You seem a bit jumpy." Soap tilted his head to the side with a concerned smile on his face. I suddenly felt very aware of the fact that the sergeant could see my discolored and scared arm and body.

"I'm fine, I'll just leave you to your work out sergeant." I made a move to grab my bag and leave

"Wait! Captain I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I can leave. I was just curious about your sleeve. I've seen some glimpses of it, I'd like a better look but it makes you uncomfortable then I'll leave." Soap offered with a shy smile

" My son, William, drew most of them." I relaxed a bit as Soap approached

"He's an incredible artist, would it be okay if I got a closer look?" Soap asked as he gestured to my arm.

"Would you like to help yourself to one of his sketchbooks? I have one in my office if you'd like to get a better look." I laughed as Soap took my left arm turning it staring intently at the pieces.

"If Will doesn't mind, I don't want to intrude."

I smiled "I'm fairly sure he wouldn't mind Suds"

3) A Mother's Grief

It hurts how similar Soap can be to William, both are incredible artist who are constantly doodling on any scrap of paper. But the similarities didn't seem to stop there, they're both terribly smart and passionate. They care deeply for those they've befriended and had a mischievous streak to them. I think often about what kinda of shenanigans the two would get up to with the other sergeants.

At times though it hurts to be around the young man. He makes me wonder what William would be like as he got older. I cried for hours the night Soap called me, mom. I felt guilty, so incredibly guilty. I thought I was replacing Will with the young sergeant and it killed me. I went to Price after another night of tears and guilt.

"Maevis you alright?"

"No, no I'm really not John."

"What's wrong? Did Oliver do something?"

" No, Jesus, it's about Sergeant MacTavish."

John tensed "What about him O'Connor?"

" He called me, mom last night, he was having a rough go of it. I found him and did what I could, I eventually took him back to his barracks. I tried to convince myself he just called me ma'am but Soap has never called me Ma'am. I feel like I'm being eaten alive by guilt! Like I've replaced William without me realizing. How could I? Will was... Is my baby, he's my boy. I love him! How could I do that to him?" Tears streamed down my face I couldn't stand to look at John.

"Oh Maevis, you muppet. You've done nothing wrong. You still love William, I know you do because you still have the charm made of his ashes. MacTavish called you mom because you did what you always do. You're a care taker Maeve, a mother by instinct and you treat everyone like your child. You haven't replaced your son, you would have done the same thing if Will was alive. You're being too hard on yourself Maevis." John had pulled me into a hug until I finally stopped shaking.

"We both know if Will was here he'd be instant friends with the boys. And he'd hold no ill will towards you being a mother to them."

"Yes you're right, you're always right John."

4) An Artistic Collaboration

Soap is constantly coloring in the tattoos on both mine and Ghost's arms. He was a very tactile person, constantly platonically touching everyone in the 141. MacTavish was quick to notice the missing piece on my sleeve, a decent sized spot above my wrist.

"So what's going there Doc?"

"Well it was ment to be another piece William was drawing specifically for me but he never got around to it. There are simple sketches in his last sketch book but nothing finished."

"Do you mean the horse?"

I nodded in confirmation as Soap turned my arm to start coloring another tattoo with the skin safe markers he was given by Roach.

"Yeah, I wanted to get a kelpie or an undead unicorn. William was enthralled by the idea and wanted to draw it for me. He uh... You know..."

"Yeah, if you'd like I could finish it for you. Why the clovers as filler? It makes coloring you so difficult!"

"I like clovers, used to call Will my lucky clover. Sergeant?"

Soap looked up from where he was focusing on my arm, his hand stilling as he removed the light green marker from my skin.

"If you'd like to, I'd be honored to have your artwork complete my sleeve." I watched as MacTavish's eye lit up with excitement.

"You're not joking Cap? You'd get my art tatted on you?" I nod smiling as the sergeant moved to grab his leather sketchbook.

" Id still like the undead unicorn or kelpie but you're free to do what you'd like with the concept... Are you going to finish coloring my arm or am I going to walk around with a half colored arm?" Soap waved his hand at me as he continued to draw. I chuckled before getting up to leave to go do my rounds.

5) Motherly Advice

I'm sitting in my office filling out paperwork and going through the medical bay inventory. I see my door open from the corner of my eye. I see the tall tale mohawk of one sergeant MacTavish

"How's she cuttin' Suds?"

"Um Mom? Can I ask you a question?" I smiled a bit at the name before calming myself. The boys only call me mom, outside of the usual teasing, if something was serious.

"What's wrong Johnny Boy?" I turned to face the man , setting down my pen as the scott sat across from me.

"You've been in a relationship before right Doc?"

"Um well yes but it wasn't the best example of a relationship..."

"I know but it was with a man, yeah?"

"... Yes? MacTavish can I ask what's this about? Because it may be better to ask Price, lad"

" How did you know you were gay?!" MacTavish seemed to be flustered as his cheeks were a bright pink.

"You were married to a man, yeah? And now you look at so of many of the nurses with such infatuation or at least you stare at any woman like she's the best view you've ever seen! I know what that means Doc.... So how did you know? Cause for most of my life I liked Bonnies but Gho- someone has made me question everything!"

"Tav my boy deep breaths yeah, do you want me to be honest?" Soap nodded furiously.

"I don't know, Oliver was my only partner for a very long time... I was only 16 when we started dating, got married just before I was deployed at 18 and I divorced him when I was 20. I didn't date while I was raising Will, I was so busy being a single mom while active duty, I was recovering from this," I gestured to my heavily scared body. " Then Will passed, I couldn't bring myself to go out let alone date... But you're right I taken a liking to many of the lassies I've seen. But I truly don't know if that makes me gay."

" Is it only ladies that catch your attention?"

"It seems so, yes... But why ask me John? Why not talk to Kyle or Price, the two who are in a very openly gay relationship. Both of them are most definitely more qualified in both regards..." I mumble the last bit.

" I don't know, you were the first person I thought of. "

" Let me ask you this then. This someone, does he make you happy?"

"Yes..."

"Do you trust him?"

"More than anyone I've ever met."

" Then what does it matter if you're gay, straight, bi, whatever?"

"What if he doesn't like me back?"

"You're talking about Ghost, right?"

Soap blushes furiously before replying "Yes I'm talking about Ghost... "

" I know he's not the most expressive or forthcoming but he's different with you John. You know that right?"

Soap nods before something seems to click, he stood up rapidly and rushed towards my office door.

"I'm sorry, I've just remembered something I've gotta go! THANK YOU FOR THE TALK DOC!" Soap's voice echoed down the hall.

A few days later, Ghost and Soap made an announcement that they are dating.

"Wait, you weren't before?" Roach asked

"No, what made you think that?" Soap asked

"Well you were constantly leaving the Lieutenant's room after some very... Loud activities..." Roach smirked "You two seem to forget who's barracks are next to Ghost's!"

It was evident even through Ghost's mask that the man was blushing.

"Oh quite your teasing Roach! Honestly we're happy for you boys, you two deserve happiness!" I smile sweetly at the two young men.

I'm happy that everyone has found someone, and while I'm happy to have helped the young sergeant he's helped me realize my neglect towards myself and my relationships.

[wannaeatramyeon]

UR WRITING IS LIKE SEROTONIN AHH MORE STUFF LIKE THE URGENT BATHHOUSE MEETING PLS🙏 it was so funny

Me, thinking everything that I say is funny: 🤣😂

Everyone else: 🧍🏻‍♀️

Don't need to read this for continuation, but Part 1 here.

SOS Men of Lookism: Urgent Bathhouse Meeting Part 2

!! Spoilers for latest arc. Massively breaking the fourth wall. Part 3

Another call for a meeting in as many months.

Samuel's lip curls as he reads the invitation. He doesn't remember the rest of the men being so needy.

Once again, they find themselves in the bathhouse.

Many absent this time, having made their peace with the storyline and their development. No obvious division to be seen, although they have naturally split into their own groups.

Still, the room is full of intimidating and powerful men naked and half merged in the water.

Sweat drips down their chiselled bodies, beads of water collect and pool in collarbones, rolling down hard pecs and sliding across cut abs.

The dampness from the vapour leaves a slick sheen on any exposed skin, highlighting scars and muscle. Hair damp, tendrils curling at the nape and locks framing their face. (Gun's 438 panel and the fan's reactions still at the forefront of most of their minds.)

Few of their usual guard and defenses are left, instead the heat of the water and the steam softens their edges, making them placid and pliant. Their voices mingle together, filling the air.

"Hey fuckos," Vin places an arm each around Hudson's and Jay's shoulder, "Do I complete the team or what. You guys are lucky to have me."

"It's nice to see you," Daniel agrees as the two blondes shrug Vin off, "Although it would be good to have Mary too,"

"True," Vin scratches his chin in thought. "Haven't see her in like 200 chapters."

"Yeah bro, when's our backstory dropping?" Taejin adds, sitting a little further away.

"Fuck OFF asshole, I'm not talking to you!" Vin throws a punch towards his former friend.

Vasco, ignoring Vin and Cheonliang's business, interrogates Jace about the status of his beloved Burn Knuckles, checking that all the welfare of his crew is ok.

"-And I like your earrings." Vasco inspects Jace's right ear.

"Thanks," Jace's hand reaches up to fiddle with his new jewellery, "It was painful, but I guess we're really going for Gun's vision with your scar and our leather jackets too."

"What about you?" Zack observes the rest of Allied with disinterest, instead seated besides Johan.

"I dunno. I really miss Eden and Miro," Johan worries his lip between his teeth, "I've been in this coma for forever."

"Shame." Samuel comments with a smirk as Jinyoung cackles next to him.

"Aish!" Sinu exclaims in frustration, "I can't believe I got arrested again. Yeonhui has been giving me grief non-stop."

"Huh? I thought it was unclear with you. Didn't you make it out?" Brad's brows knit in confusion as Jason shrugs.

"Sorry man," Jake apologises anyway, looking sheepish and scratching the back of his head.

Jerry, along with the other members of Big Deal, assures their boss that it's fine before addressing their No.6. "Lineman, looking forward to your power up."

Lineman gives them a winning grin, chest puffing with pride.

Taesoo watches a young!Gapryong wading towards him and the Kwak brothers. Their conversation stops, silence falling upon them as they notice his presence.

"Forgive my interruption," Gapryong starts, "Taesoo, please tell me how you managed to appear in so many flashbacks?"

Jichang's eyes drift over to Taesoo, "Share your secrets, Ansan."

Eli, standing bare by the showers, examines his reflection in a mirror, "I'm thinking of going blonde again."

Warren watches his friend, quickly losing interest in the conversation. "I [don't] care-"

"NO!" Goo jumps out, "There's too many blondes as it is." His fist waves in Eli's face. "I'M THE OG!"

"Put that away," Gun shoves his partner's hand roughly, "You'll find that that is Jay Hong."

"You fucking-!" Goo aims a kick in his direction, and a fight breaks out.

"So... what usually happens here?" Baek Hangyul directs to DG and Eugene, the three of them lazing in the water together.

Eugene gulps as he eyes up Hangyul's torso and abs, thinking that he should up his own workout routine.

And it's not that he is insecure with his body, but he can't help but shrink below the water a little when sitting in the middle of these two sex symbols.

"Not sure," DG says, running his fingers through his pink tresses and watching Gun and Goo squabbling at the far side of the bathhouse. "More fan service, I guess."

[so-mordor-itis]

Something Beautiful, Something Grand

Dedicated to @uhlunaro and @cweampier because I kept getting ideas reading your posts. Enjoy!!

WC: 1.5k

Taglist: @amatxs , @izuniias , @airanke , @favouritereadings , @azul-marie , @justonemore-fic , @spookluckpuck , @unhealthy-leon-brainrot , @honeyfict, @konigbabe

i

He's beautiful.

The thought hits you so fast that you almost jump out of your seat. You blink, eyes casting to the cup of coffee you just ordered. You feel yourself blink a few more times before realizing you did, indeed, just think that out of the blue. Think that Leon Kennedy is beautiful.

Because he is.

"You alright?" Leon asks, obviously noticing you're a little frazzled. Your insides begin to panic because oh God, he's looking this way, looking into your eyes, searching. He's caring, and that makes this so much worse.

You clear your throat. "Oh, yeah, just thinking. You say it a bit too fast, and your voice is a higher pitch. He notices.

"What about?"

You don't want to look him in the eye, but you force yourself to. There is no need to create more suspicion or concern. You shrug, acting like it's nothing. "Just wondering when the rain will let up."

"Yeah, it's been pouring, huh?"

You feel relief race through your veins, and you look outside. It probably isn't going to be anytime soon, but some part of you doesn’t want it to stop. You love the pitter-patter of the droplets striking the roof and the window. It almost distracts you from what your original thought was.

Then it hits you again as your eyes travel from the window to him. Leon is sitting across from you, taking a sip of his own cup of coffee–black, you honestly want to call him insane. His blue eyes linger outside. It pops into your mind again. He's beautiful. He really is.

Your face is hot, and suddenly you want to leave. It won't go away, no matter how hard you compel it to. No matter what you say to yourself. It stays in the back of your mind like a barb stuck to an animal's leg.

He's your co-worker. He's older than you. He's your superior.

You take a mental image of removing the barb with iron pliers. This has to stop here and never go anywhere moving forward.

You find yourself looking at him again, and he catches your eye for a second before you glance back at the rain.

ii.

You think it again when he offers to stay and help with dishes. You invited a few of your friends for dinner, not wanting to be alone that night, and Leon ended up staying longer than anyone else. You often found yourself talking to him more, learning about him more. For a moment, you almost didn't think about that day in the coffee shop, but then it hit you again.

He's beautiful.

He isn't even doing anything special. Leon has his sleeves rolled up a little, showing his arms. His biceps are littered with smaller scars. A longer scar trails up to where his sleeve cuts off, and you wonder how he had gotten that one. If it was painful, if he even felt it. His arm is moving as he scrubs, and your eyes follow its movements.

"My eyes are up here," he jests. You flinch, and he giggles. (He giggles.) Your cheeks burn, and you hope he doesn't notice the way you are fidgeting with your hands. Leon has a habit of being extremely observant when you don't want him to be. It's like he has a radar of when people are bothered or uncomfortable or ill.

"No, I was just uh," you flicker through your mind for an excuse. "Thinking."

"Seems like you're always doing that lately." He comments, and your cheeks are even hotter somehow.

"How'd you get that scar?" You ask, changing the subject. Leon stops scrubbing, and your heart drops, thinking you rubbed salt in an old wound. Maybe he received it from Raccoon City. Oh God, that's probably where he got it.

"Ah, that's an old one," Leon says, going back to scrubbing. "When Graham was president, his daughter got kidnapped to Spain. A crazy cult worshiped parasites and wanted to implant her with one and then send her back with it. I got this from when one of the buggers cut me."

Oh, not Raccoon City.

You huff a laugh. "Sounded like fun."

"Oh, it was such a joy." He scrubs a bit harder, as if imagining the bowl in his hands is one of the parasites. "Just when Ashley and I were safe, something else came along. And then she got taken again and again."

You pat his shoulder lightly. "You poor thing."

"I'm just glad she's safe. I still call her from time to time."

You're staring again, and you hate yourself for it. He's beautiful. Leon's eyes practically sparkle no matter what emotion he's feeling, anger, sadness, happiness. It's as if his mind is a galaxy, full of stars and planets and constellations. You wanted to research them all. You always wanted to know more about him, more about his life. You always wanted to dig deeper. Yet, a part of you is scared you'll dig so deep to the point that the light from the surface will be no longer visible.

You tear your gaze from him, excusing yourself to your bathroom. You glance at the mirror and see yourself glancing back. Turning on the faucet, you splash cold water against your face in hopes of combatting your blazing cheeks.

What are you doing? What led to this moment?

You cradle your face in your hands when you come to the horrifying conclusion.

You had already dug too deep.

iii.

He's beautiful, and you're in love with him.

iii.5

He starts appearing in your dreams. He kisses you in them, hugs you until your problems are solved, and you no longer feel empty.

Then you wake up and realize you're totally and utterly fucked.

iv.

"Alright, spill it." Leon says to you. He offered to drive you home, and you reluctantly took it. The two of you sat in silence before he pulled up to your curb.

You peer at him from the corner of your eye with confusion. "Huh?"

"Don't 'huh' me," Leon looks at you with tired eyes, and you feel guilty. "You know what this is about." The way he says your name stabs your gut.

"I don't." You do.

"You've been avoiding me." You were.

"No, I haven't." You suddenly get defensive. You absolutely were, and you hated it. You were avoiding him, like a little kid knowing they were in trouble, and he was the teacher who would eventually catch them. It wasn't intentional at first–work grabbed you, forcing you away from coworkers, from friends. Then you realized work could help you cope with your feelings. Then you realized you were actually avoiding your problems. A rabbit hole no one should allow themselves to tumble down.

"Leon–"

"I'm not stupid," he remarks. "You think I'm not going to notice that we're talking for so long then you suddenly stop?"

Your heart feels heavy, and dread is filling your veins. Your limbs are now concrete. There's no way you could tell him, not here, in his car that smells like him. With the way his eyes are full of hurt. Hurt from your actions.

"I'm scared." You mumble. You feel your lips trembling as the words tumble out. You can feel the weight they carry. "I'm scared, Leon, alright?"

"Scared?" His voice is suddenly softer. You can tell his mind is racing for reasons as to why, but he isn't going to find it.

"Of you," you tell him.

"Why?"

You can't tell him. You can't. You should make something up, tell him you're scared of working too much, tell him anything other than–

You grit your teeth.

Fuck it.

"I have feelings for you. That's why. I have had them since we started to actually become closer. Since you started taking interest in my life, what I do," your face is burning again, but you ignore it. "I keep having thoughts I shouldn't have."

How you want to kiss him. How you love him. How he has a way of kissing your dreams and destroying your nightmares, but it kills you inside because you have no idea if it's the same way for him.

Leon is silent for so long that you feel yourself tear up with embarrassment. The urge to leave his car is potent.

"You have a stupid way of showing it." He finally says, and your stomach coils. Leon calls your name so softly, so tenderly, you almost let those tears slip. "Did you not think, for a moment, that I wasn't also interested? Also falling for you?"

You feel his hand caress your cheek, and you wonder if he can feel how hot they are. He tilts your chin up, and your heart flips when you see his eyes shimmering. Your lip curves a little. "I guess I didn't want to get my hopes up."

Leon chuckles in a way that touches your soul. It's amazing what love could do. He was angry at you, hurt from what you did, and now he's gazing at you with such love in his eyes you could've melted into a puddle right then and there and he would still be giving you that look.

"Guess I was scared, too."

[pocketmania]

Yo, I'm someone who hit a funk and broke my three month streak of not hurting myself, and am feeling down... splatoon has helped take my mind off things, so would you please write some headcannons on the girls comforting a reader who they caught harming themselves? Thanks in advance, I just need the comfort rn.

I'm really sorry that that happened. I understand how you feel, so I'll gladly write some headcanons for you if they'll make you feel better. You're very strong for going for three months, yknow. And i know you're strong enough to try again. You've got this <3

I'm also gonna put a hotline number at the end for anyone, just in case

Now onto the thingy

‼️Quick TW for Self Harm/Suicide‼️

‎‧₊˚✧[ The Idols Comforting A Self-harming Reader ]✧˚₊‧

(🎨🔫🤬❤️‍🩹) - splatoon angst comfort

‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅

- - - - - - -

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Callie

Had just come home from a shopping spree when she found you in your room with a bleeding arm

You used one of the kitchen knives

"(Y/N)?! OHMIGOSH, ARE YOU OKAY?! WHAT CUT YO-"

Then she sees the knife next to you

The expressive glow in her eyes was gone

She rushed to the kitchen, grabbed a bunch of paper towels, and began to clean your cuts

Lots of hugs and kisses with a side of kind reassurements were given that night

"(Y/N).. please don't do this to yourself. It's not worth it. It's going to be okay, whatever you're goin' through, yeah?"

She checks in with you a lot more now

Asking how you're feeling, if you've eaten, stuff like that

If you have past scars she'll kiss them

If you're feeling down (like you want to hurt yourself again) she'll give you a bunch of distractions and things to do so you don't

If you relapse, she gives you a big hug and say that it's alright

"That's okay! I'm sure you can go even longer this time! I believe in you!"

She was honestly worried she'd lose you

But she sees that you're healing now and that you're better, and that's all she could ever ask for

She's glad you're still around

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Marie

Also had just come home from shopping, but it was with Callie. She called out to you, but didn't find you in the living room or in the bedroom or kitchen, so she checked the bathroom

She found you with a bleeding leg

You used a razor

She didn't have a very "over-the-top" reaction (unlike Callie)

She just grabbed the first-aid kit you kept in the bathroom and cleaned your wounds.

She didn't wanna scare you

"I may not understand, but I know."

She gave you a tight squeeze after she was done. "I know."

She's a lot less sarcastic with you now

Always tries to make sure you're happy or at least satisfied with yourself

If you feel like hurting yourself she'll bring you into a huge cuddle-sesh until she's sure you're feeling better

Careful, those can last hours

If you relapse, she'd bandage you up and try to make you smile or laugh

"Don't worry, kid. There's always next time."

Despite how sarcastic and snarky she is on T.V., she's very caring and loving

And she'd do anything to make sure you're safe

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Pearl

"(N/N), I brought ya some foo-"

Dropped the plate when they saw you hunched over, crying with a burned arm

You used Pearl's lighter

Rushed over and immediately took the lighter from you. She accidentally burned herself, too, but that was an accident

Yours was on purpose

Pearl isn't all that good at comforting people, so she called Marina in to help

She kissed you, rubbed your back, and whispered sweet words to you while Marina helped your burns

"I'm so sorry.. Whatever happened, it's not your fault."

Pearl would continue to do all those things while you explained why you did that

Needless to say, she felt awful

From here on out, she's always doing things to keep you happy

She might make little songs for you (with the help of Marina's composing) or cook with you (albeit she's not the best cook)

If you relapse, she'll just sit there with you, head on your shoulder, ready to listen if you wanna vent or talk

Or if you just wanna sit there in silence, too

Like I said, she's not the best at comforting people, especially when they've done something like this

But she'll try her best if it's all worth making and keeping you happy

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Marina

She had finally emerged from her recording studio after at least 3 hours of editing and revising music for the Memverse

That's when she found you, bruised and slightly bleeding

You had been biting yourself and bit down really hard

She was confused at first as to why you would do such a thing

She's your personal therapist at this point

Treating the wounds, asking how you're feeling, what happened while she was gone, if you wanna talk, etc. etc.

"I know this won't help, but you shouldn't feel so bad. I am your biggest fan, and I'm always gonna be there to support you and care for you, okay?"

Even if she didn't seem all that terrified, she was incredibly scared that you would bite down too hard and really hurt yourself

Keeps an eye on you and your mood from now own

Just like Callie, she gives you things to do when you feel like harming yourself, just digitally

Lets you run through the memverse demo as many times as you'd like

If you relapse, she'll kiss your wounds (when they're clean) and say that was a good try, and that you can do better than before

But, she really wasn't lying when she said she was your biggest fan and supporter

She always was, and she always will be

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Shiver

She had just finished training a bunch of sharks just a ways from your house. She came home, fan in hand, and called out for you

You didn't respond, so she began to look for you

She found you in the bedroom, clawing at your arm

Since your nails weren't that sharp, it didn't draw blood, but it was enough to leave a mark

You swore she turned paper white when she gasped

She gasped so loud people in Inkopolis could've heard her

She quickly recollected herself and rushed over to help you

I have a headcanon that shiver excessively fans herself when she's on edge, so she did a lot of that here

"(Y/N)?? Why would you do such a thing to yourself? ... Well, please, don't do it again. You're too good of a person to deserve this."

From then on, she was a lot more caring toward you

Less sarcasm, less of a snarky personality, more of a mother figure

Makes sure you've eaten, and that you haven't harmed yourself (and that you won't anytime soon)

Also makes you trim your nails so you can't scratch yourself again

If you relapse, she encourages you to try and make your streak longer the next time

She may not show it half (or 3/4) of the time, but she really cares about you. And it would deeply hurt her if she lost you

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Frye

Randomly woke up from a really good nap, turned over, and saw you hitting yourself on your arms, legs, and head

She probably woke up due to your hitting moving the bed

You bruised your legs and arms and gave yourself a massive headache

Frye immediately tried to constrain you (and you gave in since she's freakishly strong. she's broken a rock before. twice.)

Started bombarding you with questions

"(Y/N)?! What happened?? Why were you beating yourself up?"

You broke down, and she immediately pulled you into a tight hug

"Hey, now! Don't cry! It's alright, I'm right here! I'm awake now, and I'm not gonna let anything or anyone hurt you, ya hear?"

Considering how she has siblings, she's actually pretty good at comforting people. She does, however, get extra advice from Big Man from time to time

Just like Shiver, she makes sure you've eaten and that you don't start hitting yourself again

Also makes it clear that it's perfectly fine to open up to her whenever you need to and whenever she has time to listen

If you do ever relapse, she's never mad. She'll just comfort you and ask you to try again

Frye's got a soft side, especially when it comes to you. And she's not afraid to show it if it means you'll be alive and well

- - - - - - -

‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅

[a-sparrows-melody]

Mary On A Cross

His voice rasps, low and brittle, as if a strong gust of wind could break him now. "Why?" he asks. He is kneeling on the ground, shaking and trembling. His ragged and torn robes are only a reminder of what had once been—but even in this state, he looks so good.

A week with him could never be enough. He promised me last night that I would never have to do this. He promised he would kill himself before the battle ended, put up a show only for my allies. He promised me all of that. But me? I was selfish. I prevented him from dying in any way I could, and now I'm burned with the scars meant for him. I wanted him all to myself—but the Fates would never allow it. Either I kill him, or he kills me. That damned prophecy.

"Why?" he asks again when I remain silent. I'm not quite sure why I'm doing this, either. I'm a masochist. His expression now mirrors what I feel inside—disgust and fury and pity and love and everything in between. The wind picks up speed, and his brown hair blows haphazardly around his face, caked with mud and sweat. His ivory-colored linen robes are dirty and full of holes. I want to comfort him. Cherish him. I need to pay my price for having him.

I have him at my mercy, yet his brown eyes—so full of fractured hopes and emotions—hold level with my own, as if his defiance will save him this time. I blink, and his expression changes as fast as the wind switches directions. He is smug now, his chapped lips ticking up at the corner. I am anxious, so anxious, but I don't dare show it on my face, knowing this is the reaction he is looking for.

"Would you kill me? Would you kill me?" he mocks, tilting his head slightly, his eyes searching my face for a chink in the armor, any sort of affirmation—but he's scared too; I can see it. Stop looking so good, please, I need to kill you, please make it easier—but he won't. I know. Loving him was never easy; I can't imagine how killing him would be. His brown eyes stare at me, unblinking and confident—though I know he knows his time has come. At my hands. I hate you for doing this to me. I hate the prophecy. I hate everyone and everything.

And now I doubt whether he is at my mercy, or I am at his.

My arms are growing heavy; the adrenaline is wearing off. The battle exhaustion is catching up with me, and the cut on my side is throbbing painfully, blood trickling down. I feel woozy now. I have to make a decision fast—but I wish I didn't have to. I want to sit here, hold him, and die. I want him. I need him.

I need all I have in me to try to forget that I love him, but I can't. I need to finish this now. Before I lose my nerve. Before either he fulfills the prophecy, or I do. I wish, I wish, I wish. I wish he was mine.

"So weak. Look at you," he chuckles mirthlessly, breathlessly.

I really don't want to do this. I can't believe I have to make this choice. The things he promised me, our lives together, separate from this horrible world where I don't have to be the hero, seem like eons ago when it was only last night. I shudder, close my eyes, taking a long deep breath.

I'd once asked him why he wanted to raze the world. Start a new system, with him at the Head. Everyone deserves proper justice. And what he reasoned was true—corruption. Negligence. Racism. He was right. His family was a victim of this society, and he was right about it. But this isn't how you do it. Destroying the world doesn't make it better. I tried to tell him that. I argued with him, fought with him, yelled at him, but nothing could change his mind. In the end, I only asked him, broken and begging on the edge of his bed, to leave this to someone else. I didn't want him to die. I wanted him all to myself. I wanted him to leave it up to someone else so I wouldn't have to die.

Apparently, losing your entire family to murder and molestation could make anyone this villainous. I wouldn't know. I've never had family. But there should have been another way, another method.

The world or him? The world or my world? Why should I have to make this choice?

He told me, "No." And that was the moment I fell for him. His stupid stubbornness, his defiance and bravery and selflessness. Sure, he was flawed—but he was mine.

And I did so much. I tried to give my powers away so I wouldn't have to kill him. I tried to kill myself, but somehow I was always saved. I debated with him to do the same, but he wouldn't listen, thinking he was born for greatness. His ego got him in the end. He was doing the same thing that happened to him and his family. In trying to create a better world, he was destroying it. Bad things do not cancel out bad things.

The world or him? Caesar or Rome's democracy?

If I choose him, he'll burn the world.

If I choose the world, he'll burn me.

I'm willing to give myself up if it means the world isn't harmed.

I'm willing to kill him so he doesn't kill everyone else.

But I want him so bad—No. Not now. Now is the time to do what you were born for. Now is the time to save the world. Bad things do not cancel out bad things.

Finally, I open my eyes and I speak, my choice apparent.

"Your beauty never, ever scared me," my voice is wobbly and cracking at the end, and I want to cry right now, but I'm just so tired. I'm scared now, properly scared. I look at him, and he can see the decision in my eyes. He's resigned, given up, disappointed in me. I raise the sword above his chest, hesitating slightly—and then he nods, ever so little. Mocking me. As if saying, "Do it. It was all you were made for—to stop change. Do it while I'm happy. Change the world for me. You owe me that much." He's accepted his Fate, and I should probably accept mine too.

And then I plunge the sword into where his heart should be, while his face pulls up in a tiny smile, as if he knew this would happen.

What have I done?

"Only for you, my love," he croaks out as he finally gives up. His eyes never leave mine, welling with tears from the pain. There is an obnoxious ringing in my ears, and I am hyper-aware of all my wounds. My vision is zooming in and out, and I cannot focus. Not now, not now, not now.

It's too late. I fall to the ground, my knees banging painfully (although everything is painful now). I don't see the way he smiles at me, genuine and unwavering. I don't see the way his crimson blood stains his ivory robes, spreading like an infection. I don't see the way his eyes search for mine one last time.

What have I done?

I press my lips against his chapped ones, eyes shut so tight, looking for that little jolt of life, hoping he would know that I love him, I love him so much that when I killed him, I killed a part of myself so deeply intertwined with his that the pain would be equivalent to ripping my organs out one by one. I love him so much that I would be consumed by the fire of it if he wasn't my rain. I pull away, confused and bloodied. His expression doesn't change. His body is still warm. He still looks the same.

No! No! Please, no!

It doesn't quite register, what I've done. I am living in a haze, deluding myself into thinking his brown eyes still hold some emotion, no matter how glassy and inanimate they are. That his smile is private and only for me.

It doesn't quite register until I see my friends across the barren ground, stained with blood as I am, knotted, mangled hair and ripped clothes like mine, waving at me and smiling as if I hadn't just committed a sin.

I fulfilled the prophecy—that is my sin. I should have let him kill me. But I am selfish, selfish, selfish. I look back at him again. My eyes refuse to close.

No! Come back! Please! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

The grief washes over me, the haze around my brain turning red, cement filling around my lungs, and I can't breathe, knowing the full extent of my crime. I cannot live without him. I cannot.

I scream, pulling out whatever breath I have left in my lungs. What have I done? I scream until my throat refuses to comply and all my tears are dried, and I am spraying my snot everywhere. I'm pretty sure my friends ran toward me during this because I can feel one now, behind my shoulder, holding me, comforting me—I can't make out who because my eyes are filled with tears now.

"You killed him! What's the big deal? You saved us! You saved us all!"

That's the big deal. I killed him. Please, go away. I only want him.

But I know what to do. This is the only thing I am sure of.

I pull the sword out by its jeweled hilt. It comes out with a sickening sound, dripping blood and gooey organs. His face remains the same, his smile is horrific. I love him.

I press the weapon to my chest and stare at my friends, watching their expressions turn to horror. I'll be sorry to see them go.

"What are you doing? Put that thing down," my friend's voice is low and more dangerous than I've ever heard.

My friend tries to rip the sword out of my arms, but hell hath no fury like a man without his love. I'm strong now.

"No." My voice comes out cracked and soft.

"Dude, stop! Stop it! Why are you doing this? Do you not want to celebrate? Do you not want cake? Horses? Agatha! Agatha, come here!"

"No cake. I want him. I never liked Agatha. I love him."

"Him—the one you just killed? You're not making any sense! Dude, stop this nonsense!"

Nonsense, my friend says. But I want him. I'll have him. I'll defy the Fates. I'll do it.

"It's not nonsense. I loved him. I killed him."

"Dude, are you gay?" I don't bother answering.

I turn away. "Your beauty never, ever scared me," I whisper to him, too tired to speak, even though I know he can't hear me, and I am suddenly reminded of a memory.

My friend tries to take the sword from me again, but in my struggle to keep the bloody sword in my arms, I pull it close to my body, and my friend accidentally pushes the point in. I feel pain like never before. It blasts through me like a cannon, and my vision is gone. There is white all around, and some chirping sound in my ears. Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, more pain envelops me. There is a shrieking sound in the air, and I can't feel or hear or see anything. I am being deatomized, one by one—it hurts so bad, I just want it all to end. Please, take it out! Take it out! Take it from me!

And in my last moments, when I am unsure of whether I am alive or dead, I see him. His face is lit up with happiness, colors, and love for me. But there is something else in his eyes—regret? Anger? Sadness? He is running toward me, and now he is holding me close against his warm chest, whispering that we are okay and he loves me, and it is all I can do not to bawl like a baby from the shock and pain of it all.

He pulls me closer and whispers in my ear, "You didn't change the world for me. You promised. You could have saved them—you could have saved them all. You had the power. How selfish."

Death comes toward me with its black robes billowing, and I want to run away from it. I want to burn the world for him—but I let him burn me.

How selfish, indeed.

-X-

I rewrote an older post of mine for refining it for a contest and I noticed so much potential that I just had to do what I did. I've never put so many emotions into one tiny fic and now I can't speak properly. I love morally grey hero x morally grey villains (I didn't include any names so you're free to imagine whatever and whoever you want to). 

Honestly, I didn't want the tiny twist at the end (I love my happy endings) but I felt it would be slightly necessary. Also I loved the friend cause your friend is literally trying to commit suicide and you ask him if he's gay. Priorities, brother. Priorities. 

How was it? Was it the most gut-wrenching, heart-breaking thing you've ever read? Please, I need to know - I'm submitting this for a contest (and honestly I'm just sadistic).

Okay, maybe this is getting too long. Any feedback?

@architectofsuffering (how is it?)

[dira333]

Passing Peonies - Post War Touya Todoroki - Part XI

When the war ended, Midoriya Izuku had proven one thing: That Villains did not need to be killed to be defeated. That you could make friends from enemies.

Touya Todoroki, formerly known as Dabi, had been one of those taken into the rehabilitation program. After one year of intense physical and psychological therapy, he's got the chance to prove himself. To prove that he can be a part of this world.

Complete fic length: 30.600 words - Masterlist

Warnings: poor mental health and resentment against past actions is mentioned, burn scars etc. as well. There is angst but this is mostly soft Touya coming back to his family...

64.media.tumblr.com

Part 11: (2,3k words) - I apologize for the chapter ahead...

Rico surprises him one morning when they load his car with flowers.

“There’s this new movie I really want to see.” He tells him. “About this guy who got bitten by a spider and has a spider quirk now? My nephew got me into the Hero Movies and says it’s really good but it’s always awkward to go alone. Do you want to come with me?”

He’s speechless for a long moment and it’s to Rico’s credit that the other man does not waver in his confidence.

“You don’t have any other friends to ask?” Touya asks and Rico snorts.

“Sure do, but it’s a Hero Movie. Your boss thought you’d be into it.” 

“Fine.” He huffs, planning to ask you all about it when he gets back to the shop.

It’s been a few weeks now that he’s allowed to buy the flowers by himself and he’s fully aware of the responsibility he holds. The heating went out last week, and the price for repairs was substantial, eating up what you had saved in the last few months due to increasing sales.

The holidays are almost over now, too, which means that there’s a rough stretch ahead where they have to rely on the sales they make from the agencies buying weekly Bouquets. 

They skip the coffee break and drive back, Rico chatting away as usual while he makes comments whenever he feels like it.

Rico’s nice, never pushy even though he must know that something’s going on between Touya and you, and his chattiness eases his mind when he starts thinking too much.

About Toga, who’s appeared twice in the last weeks, Mari, who still refuses to speak to him when not absolutely necessary, how the healing of his piercings goes about as slow as the healing of Shouto’s broken heart, or the fact that he’s not sure what his quirk is going to be when the authorities decide to take off his quirk canceling anklet.

-

It’s still too early to open the shop when Rico drives off so he closes the door and turns the key again, shutting off the lights, and slips into the back room to make coffee.

He’s not been in there for long when you step in through the other door, holding a back of baked goods in your hand.

“Good morning.” Your smile is big as if you’d expected him to be back early. “How did it go?”

“Good. Kibe-san was almost nice today. And the Bonsai guy gave me some seeds.” He drops the little packet in your eagerly outstretched hands.

“Amazing. I got a call yesterday, a friend recommended my work to someone who just inherited an old house, and the garden is absolutely wrecked. He asked if we could get to work on it to make it more presentable before spring so that he could sell it. He’ll send us some pictures later but it would be a great opportunity to get a foot in the door for you. Who knows, you could retake your high school exams and become a landscape architect.”

“And leave the shop?” He hands you your coffee, filled to the brim with cream and a mix of sweet somethings. “Never.”

Your smile is sweet but a little bashful as if you’re not quite believing him.

“I’d never leave you behind, you know that, right?” He asks, his heart beating double time as he waits for your answer.

“Just leaving the door open.” You tell him quietly and take a sip from your coffee, no doubt to busy yourself.

Had you been talking instead, he might not have heard it through the thick door.

But there’s the sound of glass crashing and he freezes.

Then, again. And it comes from the shop.

“Touya?” You ask but he’s at the door, open it gingerly to look through, not risking to make known that they are here.

He smells the fire before he sees it. 

“Touya?” You ask again, doubt seeping into your voice when he doesn’t answer right way.

“The shop’s under attack.” He says, his breath coming too fast now, but his mind is calm, high on adrenaline. “Stay in here, don’t come after me. Get yourself to safety.”

“No, Touya.” Your coffee cup explodes on the floor, your hands in his shirt but he pushes you back, one last look at your frightened face. “Stay back. You gotta stay safe.” He slips through the door, slams it shut, and turns the key they never use. For good measure.

Behind him, fire has built a wall of heat. 

-

He hadn’t known flowers could burn so well but whatever crashed through the window - possibly a molotow cocktail - had hit the dried eucalyptus that’s now burning bright, the flames licking at the wooden wall behind it. He grabs a bucket of roses, pulls them out and throws them to the side, pouring the water over the fire as far as he can reach. It’s not enough.

Smoke’s stinging in his eyes, his nose, his throat and there’s ice cold panic crawling up his back, but he works methodically, grabs one bucket after the other and pours it over the fire. He can feel blisters forming on his hands from the buckets that have grown hot from the fire, not caring that his vision is going hazy - from the smoke, or his panic, he doesn’t know.

He can hear voices but he could just as well be imagining it, as he coughs and gags against the smoke filling his mouth and his lungs, pulling off his shirt to smother more flames, grabbing plants to bring to relative safety in the back of the shop.

Half of the blossoms of his plant, the holiday cactus, have burned away. The Bonsai you’d been so proud of is nothing but a stem anymore. Bob’s children aren’t bobbing anymore as he lifts them up, the roughness of the pot digging into his already blistered skin.

Something grabs and pulls him into the other direction.

He fights, claws at whatever it is, but it is stronger than him and suddenly, he’s faced with cold, fresh air and the dawning morning outside.

“Stay here.” Someone snaps at him and he can barely see the uniform of a firefighter before he sees you, on the ground, lifeless.

If he thought he’d felt panic before, it had been nothing compared to what he feels now, the horror imploding in his chest. He staggers forward, trying to get to you, but someone grabs him again.

He can see Mari lurching forward, toward you, and he might be barely able to hear anything about the thrumming of his heart, but he can hear her voice, read her lips, as she wails.

“It was him! He set the fire! I saw it all!”

She takes one more step forward, pointing her finger at him. She bends as if to touch you and something in him snaps so violently he gasps, flinging his arms forward as if he’s about to push her away from you - and somehow he does.

A wall of ice, the height and width of a grown man, surges forward, pushing Mari back, but circling you, protecting you.

That’s the last thing he sees before he goes down and everything goes blissfully dark.

-

His eyes snap open and he’s on high alert, trying to gain a sense of direction.

Where is he and when is it? Where are you?

“Easy there!” Someone presses him down and a face appears in his vision. It’s Hawks, surprisingly.

Touya chokes out your name and Hawks nods.

“She’s safe. Used her powers too much and fell asleep right there on the street. You gave us much more of a freight there. Half burned up, choking from the smoke and then the ice… didn’t know you could do that.”

“That happened?” He asks. “I thought I was hallucinating from the smoke.”

“Oh no, boy, that really happened. Still out there even, they need it as evidence. Have a look if you want to, but be careful, you took quite a beating from that fire.”

He gets up carefully, surprised to see his hands in bandages and a thick blanket slung around him.

He’s inside an ambulance, the doors open. Just outside he can see the wall of ice, police and firemen discussing something. Behind them, he can see a corner of the window, the glass black from smoke.

And there, right next to that window, are you. 

He walks straight toward you, like a compass needle pulled north.

You’re huddled up in a blanket as well, clutching the ends to your chest as you look down at the ground. A woman in a police uniform is standing next to you, one hand on your shoulder.

She says something and you look up, catch sight of him - and go flying.

He barely manages to catch you when you fling yourself at him, arms around his shoulders as you press your face into his shoulders, sobbing.

“I’m so glad you’re alive.” You choke out and he understands deeply how you feel. 

“You know me,” he jokes against the feelings raging in his chest, “Nothing a little fire could kill.”

-

As it turns out, Mari had set the fire, planning to blame it on him.

She didn’t expect him to be there earlier, not knowing about the agreement that had him buying the flowers in the morning.

Nor did she expect him to be with you as it happened.

You, who’d called the police the moment he had closed the door in your face. Who ran around the block to help him from the other side, not knowing what to expect.

Now, a tree is growing into the shop, it’s thick trunk stabilising the building further.

He didn’t have to wonder why you fell asleep instantly. The tree is massive, winding itself around and through the burnt wood, a living and breathing thing holding up the apartments above the shop. 

It takes hours to clear everything up. 

Mari isn’t one to reveal her secrets easily and the police don’t take his innocence for granted, even with an alibi.

He’s questioned again and again, repeating himself over and over until his voice gives out, his throat still raw from the smoke.

They don’t understand how he could be able to produce ice until they manage to get a hold of one of the guys who designed his anklets.

As it turns out, the anklets are either low impact on all quirks or high impact on a specific quirk. No one could have known he would suddenly develop an ice quirk and had he still been able to speak, they’d have wrung him through another round of questioning to find out if he’d been aware of the chance.

He wasn’t. He still isn’t really, the events of today feel more like a nightmare than reality.

Around five p.m. he’s allowed to leave the police station.

His father, having been by his side since the moment he’d been brought there, pulls him into an awkward hug.

“Where do you want to go?” He asks. “Hospital? Pharmacy? Home?”

Touya forms a flower with his hands and Enji nods as if that had to be expected.

“Alright. There’s a drugstore next door, I’ll get you something for your throat there.”

-

Touya’s not surprised to find you in the shop as well, tending to the flowers and plants amidst people in hard hats and suits.

“You shouldn’t be here.” You tell him when he enters, but still wrap your hands around his lower arms, carefully avoiding the bandages on his hands. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

He nods and points towards the plants at the back of the shop, drawing a question mark into the air.

“One of Bob’s kids did not make it but the others are still alive.” You tell him. “Most of the cut flowers are done for as well. The insurance company and city surveyor are currently doing an inspection. They’re not sure we can keep working in here.”

At your words, a small man with a button nose - a literal button nose, steps forward. He’s so small that he has to put his head back to look up at you.

“I am afraid we don’t have good news.” He says, his voice a little tinny but full of empathy. “Your quick thinking kept the building from collapsing but the building structure is already damaged and we cannot risk that you keep working in here. We’re advising evacuation.”

“But I live here.” You stutter out and the man nods.

“I understand. We have a team of movers that can safely transport all your belongings without upsetting the damaged structure, therefore one apartment after the other will be emptied out in the next week. After that, we’ll rebuild the apartment block and you should be able to move in again.”

“How long will that take? I can’t close the shop for long, it’s my only income.”

“It shouldn’t take more than three months, tops. If we can get building team three on this, we could be done in a month, they have some very handy quirks. But for today, you should go home, I mean, go home to a friend or family, and rest. Everything will look a little brighter tomorrow.”

You open your mouth to speak but he bids himself goodbye and leaves.

Touya puts his hand on your arm now and you turn, confusion, hurt, and bubbling panic visible in your eyes.

He points at himself, then draws the shape of a house into the air.

“You want me to come to your house?” You ask and he cocks his head to the side, hoping you’ll understand.

“No,” you sigh, “I don’t have any other friends I could ask right now.”

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My Kofi if you want to tip me

[say-hwaet]

High Sierra: A Red Dead Redemption Story

Chapter Eight: Burned Treasure

Eliza picks up Isaac from the hospital and loads two treatment kits in the car. While she can carry them, they are quite heavy, and she hopes it is because they are actually useful, not just placebos. Either way, she cannot get any more until she and Arthur both have signed the waiver. She feels a sense of dread in her belly at the thought. Arthur. She has to call him at some point, but she keeps putting it off. It is too awkward, especially after everything. After hearing about Mary. Even thinking her name leaves a bad taste in her mouth.

Closing the trunk with a loud clunk, she walks back to the driver’s side of her sedan and gets in. “Make sure you put on your seatbelt, bab—” She looks in the rear-view mirror and sees Isaac, immediately asleep. She doesn't know if it's the new treatment or not, but her heart aches for her boy. She wants him to live, to thrive, but at what cost?

Sighing, she gets out of the car again, and goes to the side where Isaac is sitting, opening the door as quietly as she can and secures him in the seatbelt. She gives herself a moment to just look at him. Her baby. Her sweet boy. She lifts her hand and runs her palm over his fuzzy scalp, her breath hitching softly when she feels the scar that runs across the side of his head.

She hopes that the tumor will stay small and that it will eventually waste away to nothing. No more surgeries. No more. But it is too early to tell if the new treatment is working or not. Her biggest fear is that it won’t even help, and that she and Arthur have put Isaac through this for nothing.

She has to get him home. She backs away, closing the door quietly, and once back in the driver’s seat, she turns the key in the ignition and lets the car warm up.

As she finally pulls out of the large hospital parking lot, she hears her ringtone and looks at her phone in the cupholder. Reading the Caller ID she sighs.

She takes the phone and brings it to her ear. "Hello, Arthur."

His voice comes as a soft timbre through the phone. "Hi. Am I calling at a bad time?"

She shakes her head, keeping her eyes on the road and traffic. "No. We just left the hospital."

"Is he alright?"

She glances back in the rear-view mirror and sees her son still asleep, his head slumped against the window. She makes an effort to drive slowly, she could care less if other drivers get mad at her. "Yes, he was just at the program and he's fast asleep. I also picked up two kits. We can't get any more of them until we both sign that waiver."

She hears him click his tongue, something he’s always done when he’s worried but trying not to show it. "Right. Do we need to sign at the same time?"

"Yes,” Eliza answers. “What time do you want to meet at the hospital?"

He’s quiet for a moment as he thinks it over. "Wednesday morning before I get to work. That will be the only time for a while. I will be working into the evenings, most likely for a few weeks."

That seems out of the ordinary for Arthur’s kind of work. Sure, it keeps him busy and sometimes he’d be over really late, but for weeks? That can’t mean anything good. "Oh? Is something wrong?" Eliza tries to conceal her concerned interest, but fails to hide it completely.

"Just doing controlled fires, no big deal." She can imagine him shrugging, trying to hide the reality of his job from her.

Eliza recalls how the controlled fires went last year. If he didn't get to shower at work, he'd come over to her house covered in soot, with markings of his respirator imprinted on his cheeks. He would go to kiss her, but she'd playfully push him away, insisting he couldn't touch her until he was clean. Isaac was sicker then, and to see them happy together made him happy. A year before Isaac got diagnosed, Arthur started to spend more time at her house, after many years of being formal and distant toward her.

Her mind begins to wander further back in time. When she got pregnant at 22, their relationship was challenged. For Eliza, she knew she loved Arthur, and was prepared to raise their son together under one roof. She told Arthur, boldly, that she was ready for marriage, but he was not. After having his heart shattered, he wasn't sure that marriage was for him. There was always the potential for divorce, however ridiculous that may have sounded, and that would be nothing but time and money wasted. He was always gone at work and couldn't be around all the time, so for him, it made sense to leave things as they were.

Eliza, with a heavy heart, disagreed vehemently. Despite their disagreements and differences, they remained steadfastly platonic and continued to raise their son separately, but united as a team bound by love for their child.

In the aftermath of their separation, Eliza tried to move on with her life. She went on a handful of dates, but none of them felt right. Her son was her top priority and she knew that any new relationship had a 50% chance of either staying or going because of him. But for Eliza, it didn't matter; she couldn't bring herself to stay long enough to find out.

Arthur was still the love of her life. His memory lingered in her mind and she still can’t imagine being with anyone else. Despite the years that have passed, she holds onto a glimmer of hope that he will one day return her feelings. And like a fool, she has been clinging onto this hope for the past 11 long years, unable to fully let go and move on.

"Eliza? You there?"

Arthur’s voice cuts through her thoughts Eliza comes out of her daydreaming, quickly applying the brake just as the light at the intersection turns red. "Oh! I'm sorry."

"Are you driving still? You should be careful, you sound miles away."

She feels herself bristle at this. Though he means well, and is speaking from his background with law enforcement, she doesn’t want him policing her right now. "I've had a lot on my mind lately. Anyway, did you call me about something?"

"...Yes, actually. I did. I wanted to ask you about something."

Her heart leaps in her chest for a second. What a hypocrite. First, she doesn’t want him to get involved in her personal life, yet, here she is intrigued by the question he wants to ask. There could be hundreds of different possibilities, but she’s only hoping for one of them. "Okay...?" she ventures to ask.

"How well did you know Thomas Downes?"

Oh. Well, she was clearly wrong.

Eliza pauses before answering. She can sense this is going to be a serious series of questions, none of which are related to their relationship or what happened the other day. "I knew him well enough, I guess. We worked together at the homeless shelter on weekends."

"Right. How would you describe him? On a normal day?"

Eliza pinches her brow, trying to keep focused on the road as she makes a turn. "Well, he was genuine. He was emotionally passionate about helping people. He never refused to help anyone who asked and has used his own money to keep organizations going. He even came to help when he wasn't feeling well."

Arthur’s voice begins to sound more intense, more inquisitive as he continues to ask question after question. "Did he stop coming to the shelter?"

And Eliza, sweet, accommodating Eliza, answers every single one. "He wasn't there on Saturday, but I didn't think anything was wrong. I should have known better."

"So, when was the last time you saw him?"

"It was a Wednesday. He had brought some balloons to some of the cancer patients at the hospital when I picked up Isaac from the program."

"And he didn't act strange to you?"

She shakes her head, trying to remember every detail about the last day she saw him. They had been making care packages for the homeless. Nothing he said or did was too out of the ordinary. Well, maybe…"No. He seemed happy. Almost excited."

Arthur pauses before asking another clarifying question. "He didn't say why?"

"No. Arthur, why are you asking me? What's going on? I know he was the one who died in that accident on Friday."

Arthur is quiet on the other line.

"Arthur?" she pushes.

"I can't tell you."

Eliza finds herself tense at this. All of these questions and he isn’t going to provide the smallest explanation? "What? Why not?"

"I don't want to bring you into this."

"Bring me into what, Arthur? You've already intrigued me. What happened to Thomas?" He doesn't answer, which, in a way, says enough. "It wasn't an accident, was it?"

"That's not what the department has concluded."

He’s deflecting, trying to answer without providing any details. However, Eliza knows better. "But that's not what you think. You think it was something else. Suicide?...Murder?"

She hears him exhale slowly and there is a long pause before he answers her. "I don't...I am not going to tell you. I wish I could."

"Are you even allowed to investigate this? Won't you get in trouble for this?"

"Something needs to be done, Eliza. There's...there's something more serious going on, and I don't want anything bad to happen."

The conviction in his voice makes her think that perhaps this isn't just another case for Arthur. There’s a personal stake, a deeper fear. She knows Arthur well enough; he is rational to a fault, sometimes annoyingly so. But this? This is different. It is as if he is battling with himself, trying to protect her but also desperate for her understanding. "Arthur, you're making me worried."

"...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked you about it."

Eliza turns into her small driveway and parks her car. "Is it wrong that I worry about you?" As she turns off the ignition, she instantly regrets saying that. She doesn't want to be an open book right now, she doesn’t want him to know how deeply his words have unsettled her. But there it is, out in the open between them, hanging like a fog that neither can drive away.

"Are you worried about me?"

She feels her face change color, even though he isn’t there. "Of course, I do! I–Isaac needs you."

"...Right."

Way to go, Eliza.

She sighs. This conversation could be going a lot better if she would stop letting her heart speak for her head. "I'll respect that you can't tell me right now, but you will have to at some point, okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay. So we will just leave it at that."

"...Is the boy still asleep?"

She turns around and Isaac has rolled his head to the other side, eyes still closed and mouth now agape in a peaceful slumber. "Yes."

Then Eliza hears the warmth in Arthur’s voice. "I love that boy."

"I know...” Eliza turns to put her keys in her purse for now, then lets herself out of the seatbelt. “Do you want to say hello?"

"No, I don't want to wake him if he's tired."

"He's going to be mad if he finds out you called and you didn't say hi to him." She can already picture it.

"Will you have him call me when he wakes up, then?"

She nods. "I will."

"Thank you, Eliza."

"You're welcome."

There is an awkward pause, but Eliza knows that the conversation has ended. "Goodbye," he says softly.

"Bye." She hangs up. Taking a deep breath, she grabs her handbag and gets out of the driver's seat. Walking to the right passenger door, she opens it gently. Her baby boy is still fast asleep. She tries to gently wake him, but doesn’t stir. She eyes his steady breathing and after a minute she relaxes. He's alright.

She leaves him for a moment to go unlock the front door of the house then comes back. He hasn't stirred. Moving carefully, she reaches over him and undoes his seatbelt.

As peacefully as she can be, Eliza slips her left arm behind his back and her right arm under his knees. Scooting him close to her chest, she lifts him up.

"Oof, you're getting so heavy," she grunts. "It won't be long before I can't pick you up at all."

Eliza has always been strong, but Isaac is an eight-year-old boy who has inherited his father's girth and propensity to grow tall, despite his cancer thinning him out. She thinks about a book she used to read to him when he was a baby, I'll Love You Forever by Robert Munsch, and how the mother, even after her son is grown, still would hold him in her arms. Maybe, one day, she will attempt it.

If Isaac grows to be a man.

Don't think like that.

She enters the house and makes her way down the hall. Nudging the bedroom door open she enters her son's room–all decorated with pictures of cowboys herding cows and Native Americans hunting buffalo in the Great Plains. Drawings that he has done recently are scattered all over his desk.

She walks over to his bed and lays him down gently. She takes off his shoes and then unfolds a horse-themed quilt that she had made for him last year and lays it over him. He stirs, turning to his side, but remains asleep. She leans down and kisses the top of his fuzzy head.

"I love you," she whispers as she calmly rises and backs out of the room.

Closing the door behind her, she goes back to the car and collects the two kits, using her foot to close back the trunk.

Bringing them into the house, she sets each heavy bag on the table. Taking a heaving breath she looks at her watch and sees that she'll have to wake Isaac up in an hour. Now that she has the kits, she is to begin treatment immediately.

The first treatment is the vitamin shots and medicine that she has to daily administer to him. This will be the first time that the shots have ever been implemented as part of his cancer treatment, and she is scared about it. Not for her, but for Isaac. The doctors have reassured her that the shots' needles are so tiny, that one can barely feel them. But it doesn’t matter. Eliza doesn't like needles, how could she expect her son to trust them? She doesn't want to lie.

She has a little while before she needs to wake Isaac up, so she can finally relax for a minute. She goes into the living room and after plopping onto the couch, she pulls out a basket that was resting underneath the end table. She sifts through it and locates a skein of teal-colored yarn and her crochet hook, which already has the beginnings of a project.

Eliza props her legs on the coffee table and taking the readying the crochet hook between her fingers, begins to work the yarn. Her fingers start to loop and chain seamlessly, and it slowly becomes almost instinctual. She loops the yarn around her hook then twists, and pulls the looped thread through the previous loop that she had started. After repeating it for several minutes, she has a couple of rows. Progress is progress.

After 45 minutes, a few stringed-together-hours worth of work has been completed. Looping a knot into the end, she cuts the remaining yarn and checks for any mistakes. Relieved to find none, she sets the yarn and hook aside and holds up two little baby slippers, and smiles to herself. She knows she has yet to make a matching hat and sweater, but there will still be plenty of time for that.

It is intended to be a surprise, after all.

***

Sadie Adler eyes her analog wristwatch and waits in an open valley. She looks beyond and sees the ending of Redwood Falls, knowing that they will be starting the burn here. She told her crew to meet her at this very spot come the rise of dawn, after giving them a rundown at the entrance of the park yesterday. All but Whethers seemed sure of what they were about to do and so she wonders how best to handle him. She doesn’t want any cowards, so she is either going to force courage into him or excuse him from doing it. She knows that another warden will be joining them in two more days, so it is of no loss to her.

A wave of impatience washes over Sadie as she, once again, checks her watch for what feels borderline obsessive, and she would be the first to point it out. Suddenly, a large Department of Fish and Wildlife truck pulls up alongside her own vehicle, and Sadie catches sight of Arthur sitting behind the wheel. She remains by her car, leaning against the tailgate expectantly, eyeing each man that she can see in the vehicle.

With a firm turn of the key, Arthur's truck falls silent and the rest of his team piles out. It is customary for Arthur to let Copper out from the back of the truck, but he has to stop himself. Copper is back at the department, helping Charles work with Molasses. Besides, the air is thick with tension as they prepare for a controlled burn - no place for a dog to be present.

The other wardens, being below Arthur in terms of rank, wait for his lead. Once he makes his way over to Sadie, the others follow.

"Lieutenant Adler," Arthur greets.

She nods with a sharp jut of her chin. "Morgan. Gentlemen."

"Good morning," the rest of them greet her.

"We've got a long day ahead of us. Remember, this is a broadcast burn for a backing fire. I hope I don't have to remind you all of what all that means. Thankfully, our goal today is small–about half of a hectare. We will all stay together for this, but keep our distance as we line it out." She turns around and opens the tailgate of her truck and pulls a large container toward her. "Get your equipment on, boys. Let's get to work."

Arthur nods and heads back to the truck and like ducklings to a mother, the rest follow. Arthur retrieves his gear and wastes no time putting it on. Already wearing a bright neon green, cotton, long-sleeved shirt, cotton jeans, and leather gloves, Arthur puts on his helmet and safety glasses. From the back of the truck, he pulls out his pickaxe which he snaps onto a utility belt on his waist. Then he grabs a drip torch and straps it on. Lastly, he grabs the chainsaw. Holmes grabs a blower and carries the water on his back, and Whethers carries the first aid and another chainsaw.

Returning to Sadie, who has put on the rest of her gear and now carries a blower on her back, she begins to head east into the trees. She points in the direction ahead of her. "The starting point is going to be thirty yards this way."

They follow her.

As they walk, Arthur takes a look around. Charles had shown him on a map where the crime scene was located. If his calculations are correct, they are a few miles north of the site. It wouldn't be too far-fetched to suggest that something could be discovered here. Crime scenes can have a wide radius where additional evidence can be found. He needs to pay close attention.

Finally reaching the starting location, Sadie checks the direction of the wind. After a moment or two, she directs each crew member to spread out in the formation of a square.

Sadie turns to Holmes. "Let's go ahead with the blowers!"

She puts on hearing protection and with a firm pull on the cord, revs hers up. Holmes follows suit, revving his blower up and gripping the handle firmly. As they begin to blow away leaves and debris, Arthur moves ahead of them and takes his pickaxe to lift and roll large logs out of Sadie and Holmes' path. They need to expose the soil to create a barrier to the fire. Even if the other members wanted to have the task, it would be difficult, for it takes a lot of exertion to lift and roll fallen trees into the desired area. But for Arthur, he makes it look easy.

After kicking a log to the right and letting it roll, he turns around to see if Sadie is going to veer off in a different direction, as she is following coordinates on her GPS to map out the location of the burn. She sees him watching and waves him onward, not wanting any delays of any kind.

After two hours of blowing and clearing, they’ve successfully prepared the area to burn. They will only be able to do a few yards at a time until they can safely burn the .5 hectare. They have to watch it carefully.

"Morgan, come here!" Sadie calls.

Arthur hooks his pickaxe back onto its holder and he jogs back to the group.

"Let's get back to our positions," she instructs.

Without saying a word, Arthur gestures to the other men and they all resume the square formation. He unhooks his drip torch and prepares it.

"Alright," Sadie sighs. "Let's do this."

Sadie signals with her hand, telling Arthur as he stands across from her to start. He steps past the border and sets his chainsaw down. Using the drip torch, he begins to release fluid on the dry grass beyond the soil that was just exposed. Tilting it down gently, he steps sideways as Sadie does the same. Soon, Whethers and Holmes follow, making sure the fire does not go past the barrier.

As the sun beats down, the heat rises from the ground like a tangible force. In the distance, the fire roars to life with frightening speed, devouring everything in its path.

Sadie waves her hand to gather the men’s attention. "Alright, let's spread out a little! Let's make sure it stays in that perimeter!"

Arthur goes back to where they started the burn and he picks up his chainsaw. Eyeing the fire carefully around the border, he begins to walk eastward, facing south as the wind continues in that direction. The wind carries embers and smoke, leaving behind a trail of black ash that fills the air like a thick fog. This is no ordinary fire - it is a backing fire, fueled by dry brush and driven by the wind. It spreads quickly, engulfing the landscape in an inferno that seems unstoppable. As firefighters work to contain it, they know it will take hours of exhausting effort to finally extinguish this raging beast.

He can tell it is going to be a while.

***

After burning that section and watching it die out, they begin a smaller one. Considering the amount of daylight left, they won’t have time to do more than 50 additional square feet.

After another hour or so, the second fire is now slowly dying out, and it is going to be dark in less than thirty minutes. The crew has been walking around, dousing any remaining flame that wouldn't go out on its own before nightfall. Colors of orange, red, and purple begin to paint the sky and the trees and mountains silhouette the horizon.

Arthur walks away from the group and sees a large stump that the fire is slowly consuming, and jogs over. Its contorted shape combined with the flames dancing around it would make for an interesting photograph. Arthur pulls out his phone to take a picture and accidentally uses his flash.

"Crap," he growls and goes to delete the picture.

But he notices something strange in the photo.

A weird flash of light had come from something beneath the stump.

Curious, he puts his phone away and removes his pickaxe, and comes around the stump. Lifting the pickaxe high, he comes down and pierces the tip’s blade into the top of the stump, and pulls back. It doesn't budge, so he wiggles the pickaxe away and tries again. He swings it downward, heaving backward, and he pulls again. Successfully, the stump and part of its roots rip out of the soil. As the stump falls into the ground, powdery ash flies into the air and the fire slowly dies out. He comes back around to where he saw the flash in the photo and squats down.

He can't see anything, so he pulls out his phone and turns on the flashlight.

Then he sees it. Carefully reaching into the earth he feels something hard and pulls it out.

His heart races as he carefully pulls it out, revealing a small, metal box with a small lock. He brings it close and looks it over. It is slightly charred but still intact. Could it be an antique? A time capsule, perhaps?

His pickaxe would easily break the lock, but he hesitates, not wanting to risk damaging whatever treasures lie within. Despite his reservations, curiosity consumes him and he can't resist finding out what secrets this mysterious box holds.

"Morgan!" He turns to see the group at a distance. Sadie waves at him. "Is the fire out over there?"

Arthur looks around and sees that there is only ash. "Yeah!"

"Well, then let's go! My husband is expecting dinner on time tonight!"

Arthur quickly tucks the box into his cargo pocket and makes his way over. They would be back tomorrow until they burned a lot more. What other potential treasures could he find? "Comin’!"

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[mac-macarena]

Who Got the Kids in the Divorce? Theme Songs

YouTube Playlist (all links below are to YT) Spotify Playlist (organized by character)

Monkey Fam

The Ballad of Smokin' Joe Rudeboy by Tom Cardy - While the story does not exactly line up with what happens in WGTKITD (obviously), it is hilariously very close, with Wukong being Smokin' Joe, his wife being Macaque, and his long lost daughter being Savage, of course. Some say many years ago, Before Joseph Rudeboy was Smokin' Joe, He had a wife, her name was Bo, Bo was with child in a happy home [...] Joseph Rudeboy was too slow, For a child that he'd never know, Joseph Rudeboy you're too slow, Burning inside Joseph died, But from the ash the man who rose was---Smokin' Joe [...] One day an outlaw came to town, "Come out here Smokin' Joe, You're just as well already dead," He wore a velvet cloak but Joe saw red [...] And as Joe fell, He beheld the outlaw's face, A young girl who'd seen it all, And grew up in a terrible place, Whose mother once told Joseph, To run and bring back help, A girl who thought her father, Had run out to save himself.

Here Before by Vashti Bunyan - This song is Wukong's view towards Rumble (Once I had a child, He was wilder than moonlight, He could do it all, Like he'd been here before), then Savage (Once I had a child, She was smiling like sunshine, She could see it all, Like she'd been here before), and, finally, MK (Then I had a child, Took his while like northern summer, And he knows it all, Like he's been here before), and how he lost the Eclipse Siblings and fears loosing MK too.

The Truth from 36 Questions - This is literally just a song about how many different views of truth there is to the tale of the Monkey Family---how each one of them views it differently, and how they chose to hide or distort the truth. Generally, I interpret the two singers as Rumble and Savage, speaking about each other and about their parents, and perhaps both of them are speaking to MK. And what’s true for you, Doesn’t have to be true forever, And sometimes the truth isn’t always, For the better, It’s something that we aspire to Or maybe, that’s something we say, Until it gets in the way [...] But the truth is, The truth doesn’t exist in, Black and white, And sometimes two sides, Can both be right [...] The truth is that you will never really know, The truth is that you will only think you know.

Too Far by ChaoticCanineCulture - This song can represent each member of the Monkey Family, as they all have moments where they "went too far, leaving scars." Generally, Wukong and Rumble are the more openly "guilty" parties and therefore fit the song more, but Macaque (especially Macaque) and Savage both hold a lot of guilt too. Looking inside my mind I see the truth, I was always the one who tormented you, This was my choice, my evil doing, 'Cause I died inside when you stop moving [...] There's no excuse for what I did to you.

Crazy Human Psycho Crush (mashup) by doodleoodle - The chaotic intertwining of multiple different stories/viewpoints fits the Monkey Fam perfectly. Oh, and I know, and I know, and I know that I've been acting so strange, But you should know that you're the one who made me this way, I'm a psycho just like you said I'd be [...] I feel like all of this has aged me, Right on the edge of twenty-two, You look like you've just seen a monster, Is that what I look like to you? [...] 'Cause I'm so sick of the drama and I hate to shout, But you drag it out of me [...] You can't love someone and just let go, And yeah, I know that I'm a little bit intense, right, But can you blame me when you keep me on the fence, like, (Three words, two hearts, one maybe Say something before I go crazy now)

Runs in the Family by Amanda Palmer - It runs in the family, what can I say? Mostly the speakers of the song would be Rumble and Savage equally. Mary, have mercy, Now look what I've done, But don't blame me because I can't help where I come from, And running is something that we've always done well and mostly I can't even tell what I'm running from, Run from their pity, from responsibility, Run from the country and run from the city, I can run from the law, I can run from myself, I can run for my life, I can run into debt, I can run from it all, I can run 'till I'm gone, I can run for the office, and run for the cause, I can run using every last ounce of energy, I cannot, I cannot, I cannot run from my family, They're hiding inside me, corpses on ice, Come in if you'd like but just don't tell my family, They'd never forgive me, they say that I'm crazy, But they would say anything if it would, Shut me up.

Shadowpeach

Peach by The Front Bottoms - Self-explanatory. You are my peach, you are my plum, You are my earth, you are my sun [...] Once I sink my teeth, your skin's not so tough, I'll leave a tiny cut, there'll be a lot of blood, But once you wipe it up, You will feel better about our entire situation.

No Children by The Mountain Goats - Self-explanatory. I am drowning, There is no sign of land, You are coming down with me, Hand in unlovable hand, And I hope you die, I hope we both die.

First Burn from Hamilton - Macaque's PoV. The implied cheating can be replaced instead with Wukong listening to Azure over Macaque's warnings about the battle. Heaven forbid someone whisper, "He's part of some scheme," Your enemy whispers, So you have to scream, I know about whispers [...] If you thought you were mine (mine, mine), Don't.

Red Like Roses Part II by Jeff Williams - Macaque (red): I wasn't dreaming when they told me you were gone, I was wide awake and feeling that they had to be wrong, How could you leave me when you swore that you would stay? Now I'm stuck inside a nightmare every single effing day [...] I know you didn't plan this, You tried to do what's right, But in the middle of this madness, I'm the one (I'm the one) you left to win this fight.

Wukong (white): I know you're broken down by anger and by sadness, You feel I left you in a world that's full of madness, Wish I could talk to you, if only for a minute, Make you understand the reasons why I did it, I wanna tell you that you're all that ever mattered, Want you to know that for eternity I'm shattered, I tried so hard just to protect you but I failed to, And in a prison of abandonment I've jailed you, I never planned that I would leave you there alone, I was sure that I would see you when I made it back home. [...] I didn't have a choice, I did what I had to do, I made a sacrifice but forced a bigger sacrifice on you.

This is Love by Air Traffic Conditioner - Both Wukong and Macaque could be perceived as singing this at different moments. There is an implication that their fates are forever horrible interconnected as they always come back to one another despite it all. You're no good, you're no good, You could kill me and you should, I'm an idiot for thinking, This was anything but blood, On the wall, on the couch, On the corner of my mouth, You must like being the victim, You've done nothing to get out, Of this pattern of pain, Washed away by the rain, You'll forgive me if I promise, And do nothing but the same, This is life until death, Could be my last dying breath, But this is love, love, shut up, this is love [...] It's pathetic, I know, A jealous fool who won't let go, If I was sorry for my actions, Would I ever stoop so low?

Goodbye Old Friend by The Devil Makes Three - Fairly self-explanatory. Wukong and Macaque can both be the singer, reminiscing on their complex relationship of love and hatred. I need you and I want you 'cause I know you from before, I hate you and I fear you but I hold open the door, I see you and you see me and we know what must be done, So we draw knives and lock eyes 'cause it does no good to run. [...] I've missed you, you know that's true and I've retraced every scar, [...] I chased you to embrace you like the sun chases the moon, I burn you and you burn me but I know I'll see you soon [...] I've held you and you've loved me but our lives cannot be spared, I trust you and despised you, shadowed your every move, Scorned you and warned you, befriended everyone you've used.

Old Friends by Ylvis - The calm reveal of someone being twisted ("I'm aiming at the kids") reflects nicely on Wukong and Macaque's relationship post-fire where Wukong was shocked to see what had happened to Macaque and how Macaque was simultaneously so calmly cunning yet unstoppably demented. Their respective "wives" in the song is the other one, simply their past selves before the battle/the fire. And he threw a rock, So I threw a rock, We both put some gravel in a sock, And he threw the sock, I said we should stop, He smiled at me then threw a rock in a sock. [<-these lines are about how they both keep fighting] [...] Oh [Macaque], oh [Macaque], don't you worry bout me now, I'm doing just fine on my own, There are other things to life than your soft skin against mine, And [Tripitaka] is helping me move on, I'm moving on.

Genghis Khan by Miike Snow - A song about how possessive, jealous and selfish Shadowpeach are of to one another. I know there's no form, And no labels to put on, To this thing we keep [...] 'Cause I don't really want you, girl, But you can't be free, 'Cause I'm selfish, I'm obscene [...] I wanna make up my mind, But I don't know myself, No I don't know myself [...] I get a little bit Genghis Khan, I don't want you to get it on, With nobody else but me.

Kiss With a Fist by Lungs - Self-explanatory. Shadowpeach's relationship is all about hurting the other. It's romantic! You hit me once, I hit you back, You gave a kick, I gave a slap, You smashed a plate over my head, Then I set fire to our bed, oh [...] I broke your jaw once before, I spilled your blood upon the floor, You broke my leg in return, So sit back and watch the bed burn, Love sticks, sweat drips, Break the lock if it don't fit [...] A kick in the teeth is good for some, A kiss with a fist is better than none.

Kiss Me You Animal by Burn the Ballroom - Self-explanatory. Another song about how Shadowpeach just can't keep their hands off each other, and how they love to see the other hurt. You say you wanna tear right through me, I welcome you to try (Kiss me, kiss me), I wanna see your teeth girl lemme see you grind, yeah, Woah [...] Kiss me you animal, I need to take you in real slow, Cause dying on your lips is how I wanna go, Connect with the sound you're making, Connect with my body whoa, Kiss me you animal and don't ever let me go.

Therapy from tick, tick... BOOM! - Literally listen to it. It is the pinnacle of Macaque and Wukong talking about their miscommunications and struggling to get along yet attempting to. Wukong: I feel bad, that you feel bad, About me feeling bad, about you feeling bad, About what I said, about what you said, About me not being able to share a feeling [...] I was afraid that you'd be afraid, If I told you that I was afraid of intimacy, If you don't have a problem with my problem, Maybe the problem's simply co-dependency [...] I thought, You Thought, I reacted shallowly, When I reacted to you. [...] If I were you and I'd done what I'd done, I'd do what you did when I gave you the ring, Having said what I said.

Macaque: If I thought that what you thought, Was that I hadn't thought about sharing my thoughts, Then my reaction to your reaction, to my reaction, Would have been more revealing [...] Yes, I know, that now you know, That I didn't know, that you didn't know, That when I said, "No," I meant, "Yes, I know," And that now I know that you knew, that I knew you adored me

Both: I'm not mad that you got mad when I got mad, When you said I should go drop dead!

Eclipse Twins

Evelyn Evelyn from Evelyn Evelyn - Self-explanatory, although not technically correct as Savage and Rumble did not grow up "closer than most." In fact, they are closer post-everything than they were as kids. Still, the point stands that they are two siblings who have a lot of differing opinions, perspectives, and arguments. One side struggles with keeping everything perfectly together while the other desperately wants to be free. Rumble (female): I’m only trying to do what is best for us [...] Looking in your eyes, I’m coming home [...] Now I realize, I’m not alone [...] But you never cared for me [...] ‘Cause you’d never dare to be [...] ‘Cause you never listen, you’re always insisting, I’m just reminiscing, I feel something missing, I just want you here with me, God can’t we just get along?

Savage (male): Well, I never asked for this, I never wanted this, All that I want is some time to myself [...] Just get away from me, please just stop touching me, You’re always trying to be somebody else [...] Well, you’re only scared of me [...] Why don’t you let me free? [...] ‘Cause you never listen, you’re always insisting, just stop reminiscing, I feel something missing, I just want my privacy, God won’t you leave me alone!

Wake Up by ChaoticCanineCulture - The song starts with Savage singing about how "they" (Macaque, Rumble) are haunting the halls and "killing her," and how she can't take the demand of killing her own father. My brother i'm begging you please understand, When I cry, I really can't take the demand, Oh they're killing me. Rumble continues the song as he finds himself just as lost and haunted as his sister, but with a flavor of self-torment. These dreams are made of things, I can't deny, I cannot flee, They're constantly tormenting me, can't close my eyes tonight. Then, the song ends with them begging to be saved. Wake up wake up, they're here, Please won't someone just save me?

Wukong's

Never Love an Anchor by The Crane Wives - Relatively self-explanatory. Wukong reflects on how his love only ever brought pain to others so he shouldn't get too close to them. It's a secret I keep tucked inside my chest, With this heart of mine that's guilty, not remorseful [...] There are times when I still wonder about you, You are someone I have loved, but never known, And you'll never see the reasons I had, For keeping my claws away when they were close enough to hurt you, I am selfish, I am broken, I am cruel, I am all the things they might have said to you, Do you ever think of me and my two hands? And wonder why they never soothed your fevers? [...] And wonder why they never held you gently? And wonder why they never had the chance to lose you?

My Ordinary Life by The Living Tombstone - Fairly self-explanatory. Much like the singer, Wukong reflects on how much he has been given in his life that he might not have necessarily deserved (such as forgiveness), and how out of touch he feels with reality sometimes. Do you feel me? Take a look inside my brain, The people always different but it always feels the same [...] The haters wanna hurt me and I'm laughin' at the pain [...] They tell me that I'm special, I smile and shake my head, I'll give them stories to tell friends about the things I said, They tell me I'm so humble, I say, "I'm turning red," They let me lie to them and don't feel like they've been misled, They give so much to me, I'm losing touch, get me? [...] The people blend together but I would be lost without their love, Can you heal me? Have I gained too much? When you become untouchable, you're unable to touch, Is there a real me? Pop the champagne, It hurts me just to think and I don't do pain.

I'm Your Man by Mitski - Completely inspired by this animatic, which will give you all the context to the lyrics you need. I'm sorry I'm the one you love, No one will ever love me like you again, So when you leave me, I should die, I deserve it, don't I? [...] People always gave me love, Others were never to blame after all, You believe me like a god, I'll betray you like a man.

Against the Kitchen Floor by Will Wood - Wukong apologizes for not being able to be as affectionate and trusting as he used to be, but promises he wants to do better for his family and friends, and Macaque. It just don't come natural to me to think that you'd want me for me, I swear, I'm really trying, Oh, I'm sorry, I promise, I'm doing my best, I just haven't learned how to be human as you are yet, I still don't know who you are, I only know that I'm still lonely, That morbid sort where even company can't cure me, And the more you reassure, the less I trust [...] I've lived more lives than enough, I haven't died quite as much, But I'm not a real person, just the shit you can't make up [...] I'm catatonic in your arms, Crying, "How did I cause so much harm?" I'm down pounding my head against the kitchen floor, Apologizing for my life and ever entering yours [...] I'm still in the process, but I'm making progress, I promise, I honestly wanna prove improvement's possible, I swear, I'm so fucking sorry, I'm not a good person, I'm barely a person at all, But someday I'll be perfect, and I'll make up for it all.

You Were Perfect & I'm Sorry by Mickey Darling - Very much a reflection of the title itself---Wukong believes Macaque deserved everything and is sorry he ruined everything, but with a self-deprecating egotistical twist to it. You were perfect and I'm so sorry, I'm such a dick, But you still love me, I still regret letting you leave me, Don't you forget you used to need me [...] How can I love someone that can't stand, The thought of loving me back? Why do I think I need that? [...] I remember what you said, You were wishing I was dead, Now, you're wishing me the best, 'Cause my song's stuck in your head.

Feed My Ego by Mickey Darling - Wukong mourning the relationship he lost, but make it self-deprecating egotistical again. I hurt u, For selfish reasons, U are all, I ever needed, needed, needed [...] U would be so good without me, happily, Nobody could ever be as, sad as me, All i need is compliments please, constantly, I make people think i’m happy, comedy.

HEAVEN SAYS. (remix) by GamePlayah - Wukong atones for his sins on the journey, slowly converting and accepting the pain from the fillet as his punishment. Now spell sinner: F-R-I-E-N-D-S Wrong! The correct spelling is Y-O-U, Just let go, Your past is sinful, Stop standing up, You can’t escape. [...] Answer for your crimes, Beg for mercy.

It's Been So Long by The Living Tombstone - Self-explanatory. Wukong mourns the death of his kids, and seeks revenge on their killer (Erlang Shen), though Tripitaka reminds him killing isn't justified. Justification is killing me, But killing isn't justified, What happened to my son? I'm terrified, It lingers in my mind, And the thought keeps on getting bigger, I'm sorry my sweet baby, I wish I'd been there.

the last beautiful thing I saw is the thing that blinded me by Paris Paloma - Despite the misleading title, this song is Wukong's perspective on Macaque's second death at his hands, albeit in a theatric, poetic, solemn way that is more Macaque's style. The moment of Macaque's death and imprisonment was difficult, and Wukong cut himself off from feeling anything ("blinding" himself). The dove represents Macaque and how he "became a demon," but the fact that "somebody else" killed her reveals the story is made-up and Wukong feels a disconnection from reality. I came across an injured dove, I wanted to put her out of her misery, There came no signal from above, No sign, no guide, I thought "whatever could this mean?" And with my hand I picked her up, And in that moment, oh it shifted magically [...] Because I wanted all of it to stop, And I didn't know how to tell you, I didn't know how [...] And I looked up, into the sun, It separated all the colors, And the ice, into my eyes, It fell and left me blind.

Used to be Young by Miley Cyrus - Wukong reflects on his younger years, both the good and the bad, and how people still believe he should be how he used to be. I know I used to be crazy, Messed up, but, God, was it fun, I know I used to be wild, That's 'cause I used to be young, Those wasted nights are not wasted, I remember every one, I know I used to be crazy, That's 'cause I used to be young, You tell me time has done changed me, That's fine, I've had a good run I know I used to be crazy, That's 'cause I used to be young.

Macaque's

The Moon Will Sing by The Crane Wives - Self-explanatory. Macaque always felt like Wukong's shadow, and wished he could have been seen as more than what he was, and that he hadn't followed Wukong so blindly. The moon will sing a song for me, I loved you like the sun, Bore the shadows that you made, With no light of my own, I shine only with the light you gave me [...] (I could've been anyone, anyone).

iGhost by MNQN - Macaque talks both fondly and angrily about how all he ever was was Wukong's "Van Gogh" (the painting, and the artist), and how he fears getting hurt again by getting too close. You fooled me once, You fooled me twice, again, I had a hunch, That it was all pretend [...] I'm hypnotised, You're telling lies again, You were my life, And now you're not my friend [...] I'll play it safe, I cannot be broken, I've been erased and now I'm gone again [...] The senses deceive us from time to time, And it is prudent never to trust wholly those, Who have deceived us even once, But yet, I still come back.

taking a stand by updog - Macaque lamenting to Wukong how he was neglected, ignored, and pushed aside, and how he won't stand for it anymore. And no amount of words could ever fix the damage done, No matter how much you ignore it wont come undone, Hard to blame you when you acted out of cowardice [...] Picturing your end, I will not pretend that, It might feel so sweet, You left me no option. 'Cause this scar it never healed, All the hurt will be revealed.

The Ballad of Lucy Gray Baird from The Hunger Games - Macaque tells the tale of how he and Wukong grew up, then grew apart, and questions what Wukong would do when he was gone. Well, all right, I'm bad, but then, you're no prize either, All right, I'm bad, but then, that's nothing new, You say you won't love me, I won't love you neither, Just let me remind you what I am to you [...] It's sooner than later that I'm six feet under, It's sooner than later that you'll be alone, So who will you turn to tomorrow, I wonder, For when the bell rings, lover, you're on your own.

taixu (ネジ巻き師と太虚鳥) by Iasah - This one is more symbolic, fitting Macaque's love of theatre. The white crow and black crow represent Macaque's selves, but also his fates (Which of the crows told you the truth? [...] The crows were both myself, Or was it you?). The song reflects on how he used to perceive that he and Wukong were destined to do great things together, but then it became that only Wukong was destined and Macaque, "was not chosen." The list of deaths is both literal and metaphorical, representing, in order: The first end came so suddenly, You couldn't say goodbye to me (his death in the fire; literal), The tenth end came with agony, I thought that we were meant to be (Wukong killing him; literal), The hundredth end was simply just, An apathetic day for me (the resurrections of the Eclipse Sibs; literal), The thousandth end was ecstasy, The people begged for me to bleed (the failure of killing Wukong; metaphorical), The millionth end was vanity, I thought I saw you smile at me (Possessed!Wukong fighting Macaque; metaphorical). By the end of the song, Macaque has realized his life is up to him to choice (I killed the crow that tried deceiving, "No, the world is up to me!").

Pomegranate Lips by Derivakat - Macaque would make this his self-assigned theme song because it's cool and mysterious, which he thinks he is, and also all about how someone screwed him over but he's better than them. Been through nine circles of hell, even dragged some people down, I can cut right through a soul with a snap, don't need a spell, So what gave you the right? I'm the queen of death and life, Whether you like it or not [...] So bite your tongue and watch your back, Show some respect or you'll get a taste of these, Pomegranate lips.

Tool by Derivakat - Macaque spitefully believes that Wukong only ever sought to use him like a tool. So I'll cut you off once, you say try, try again, I'm ghosting you twice, you still claim I'm your friend, You set me on fire three times, now I'm done, 'Cause you lit the fuse, and you loaded the gun [...] I'm done with your lies, and I'm done with your games, So cry all about it and I'll take the blame.

Eden by Derivakat - Opposite to the anger in Tool, this "version" of Macaque is much calmer, though sadder, about how he believes Wukong never cared about him, though he believes it wasn't necessarily Wukong's intention. We were living in a garden made for two, But two is one too many and he doesn't understand, When he crushes all the flowers that I grew, I want him off this land [...] 'Cause he's nothing but a liar, Caught up in his own desire, He started this fire, so let him fall in flames, You know he's the one to blame [...] Kick him out of paradise, Finally he'll realize, Too late to apologize to Eden, To Eden, to Eden.

Mrs. Bluebeard by They Might Be Giants - Macaque laments bitterly on how he never should have trusted Wukong, and how the world is cruel. I want to say I learned something valuable today, Alas, my murdered remains are incapable of learning anything, Trusted you, I should have never trusted you, In fact I never did, What's the use [...] Most people wouldn't hang the corpses up for review, Dearest, I can only hope most people are nothing like you [...] Is this how you thank somebody, For their selfless loyalty? Is this what you do? Pardon me for failing to grasp how this works, Excuse my breathtaking ignorance.

The Haunting by Set It Off - Macaque talks about how he suffered and how he will torment Wukong for the rest of his existence. So you dragged me by my feet, To a ghost town, where you buried me, No wonder no one heard my screams [...] Run away, boy, if you couldn't tell, Baby's got a thirst for blood [...] Catch a lover, turn an enemy, Just to watch them burn alive [...] No one will love you like I did, Will treat you like I did, So go on, wear that scarlet letter, No one will love you like I did, Will touch you like I did, So good luck finding something better.

Problematic by BoyWithUke - Macaque sings about how Wukong broke his heart and his trust. Why did you love me so? Watch me as I let you go? Told you that I'm better off alone without you in my home, I let you in my heart, let you back into my arms, Fool for thinking we could make it faking every single part, I thought that maybe you could be the final fucking remedy, The one to pull me out if I were ever stuck inside a dream, I'm looking back at times we had, the things we did and things we can't, How could you stab me in the back? I thought you were better than that.

You're Going Down by Sick Puppies - A good ol' battle song between Shadowpeach. The singer is Macaque rather than Wukong here as the singer laments that the fight is no longer worth it, yet he can't let go and must keep fighting. Let's take a trip down memory lane (do you remember me?), The words circlin' in my brain (look what you did to me), You can treat this like another, all the same, But don't cry like a bitch when you feel the pain [...] This is hardly worth fighting for, But it's the little petty shit that I can't ignore, When my fist hits your face and your face hits the floor, It'll be a long time comin', Bet you got the message now, 'Cause I was never goin', Yeah, you're the one that's going down!

Hermit the Frog by Marina and the Diamonds - While its also a Savage song, the romantic undertones push it towards Macaque. This song reflects Macaque's conflicted mental state post-family-break-up, where he's started to recover himself a little bit, but still feels this hatred inside of himself. Yeah, I feel it coming on When I've been static for too long, And an explosion comes in time, Before I go and cross the line [...] Well, I went to the doctors believing, The devil had control over me and, I was finding it hard to breathe in, Finding it hard to fight the feeling [...] You can take your double standard love and keep it, I can't help the devil likes to make my heart a double bed.

Villain by Bella Poarch - Macaque sings about how he'll be the villain, but make it flirty. I'll be the villain tonight, I kinda like when you despise me after we fight, (Feels so much better when I'm), Pushin' all your buttons 'til you're crawlin' on the floor, You say you hate my guts, but you're still coming back for more [...] What's you and I without a little pain? Tastes bittersweet each time you say my name, If love was poison, we would drink it anyways, Feels so good playing these wicked little games.

SAY THAT YOU MISS ME by Mickey Darling - Macaque both taunts Wukong for what he did (Hey necrophiliac what are you doing? I said why are you trying to fuck me, If I am dead to you?) and demands an answer from Wukong, not willing to honestly admit that he misses what they had, instead hiding behind anger. I said "you broke my heart," You said "boo hoo," I said "I'm going to leave," You said "please do," I said "I hated you," You said "me too" [...] It's harder than you think finding someone for me, That could ever compete with somebody like you, I cant help that I hate every fucking girl I date, Cause it always feels the same, like im cheating on you, Hate that I have to say, babe, I made a mistake, Thinking anybody could have ever been you, They'll never be you.

Hell and You by Amigo the Devil - A song portraying Macaque's obsession with Wukong, be it in love or as enemies, or something twistedly in-between. Cause I'd rot in hell with you, If you'd just ask me to, I love the shitty things we do together, Live with me in this sin forever, Hell and you, I know you want it too [...] I'd crawl in bed with you, Even on someone else's blood on top of someone else's love, In the worst motel we find, Cause home is the last place that I'd stand to be with anyone but you.

Cannibal by Naethan Apollo - Another song about how Macaque is obsessed with Wukong, even when he hurts him, as he struggles to choose between leaving him alone entirely or continuing to seek his attention. Think I got the message, Thought our love was destined, But it's more like a death wish, A guarantee for misery [...] Tell me when I overreact, No, tell me again, please, I love being told what to do, But only when I'm told by you, At least, that's what I used to think, But nowadays, I'm on the brink.

The Red Means I Love You by Madds Buckley - Another song about Macaque being obsessed with Wukong, but this time it's set when he truly was obsessed with him---post-fire, post-imprisonment, post-resurrections. This Macaque can't see clearly at all, and is obsessed with making Wukong bleed if it's the only way to feel close to him. They say such a shame, I turned out this way, A maniac, Well, yeah, I get manic when I cause a panic, And of course, I'm excited when I see you around [...] You leave me high and dry, A rush comes to my mind at the drops, Of blood you leave behind, Run as you might, my love will never, ever, Stop.

TERRIBLE THINGS by Axie - This song follows the degraded mental state of "zombie" Macaque, post-Eclipse Sibs' resurrection, and how he knows he is doing terrible things, but that he cannot bring himself to feel anything remorseful, until time goes on, and things start changing inside him. This song also lists his deaths: 30 years with torture you can’t comprehend (the fire), 40 years, they’re seeking for means to an end (killed and imprisoned by Wukong), 50 years attached onto puppeteer strings (the Eclipse Sibs' resurrection, and his subsequent debt to LDB). The song begins to hint towards Macaque regretting and wanting to be free near the end. I just want to die, yeah, So please just let me die!, I’m undefeatable, I'm thriving, ‘Cause I know a thing or two when it comes to being killed, It’s oh so very painful, And I don’t want it to happen again, and again, and again!

Savage's

Catabolic Seed by The Scary Jokes - Savage feels lost and hopeless after everything that's happened to her, and she desperately wants to feel like she's in control. That dissipated so fast, seems the good times never last, And I always fall flat on my back, like an upside-down cat, But is bad luck really such a crime? [...] I want to destroy everything that's mine [...] (I'm safe, I'm whole, I've got it under control), My structure's compromised, (I'm safe, I'm whole, I've got it under control), But you still batter at all my fault lines, (And I will protect you even if you won't protect me too), I can't run, I can't hide, but you can't say I didn't try.

Second Child, Restless Child by The Oh Hellos - She was born the second child, though truly she wasn't the restless child---that was Rumble. But the song does reflect how she wanted to run away from it all. And they saw trouble in my eyes, They were quick to recognize the devil in me [...] And Heaven knows how hard I tried, But the devil whispered lies I believed [...] You've got to go on, further than you've ever gone, You've got to run far from all you've ever known.

Shared Eyes by Blixemi - Savage laments about how misunderstood she is and how mistreated she was by her family, and how much she simultaneously wants to hurt them and wants their attention. I figured this would be, A great time to misunderstand me [...] I used to beg and plead, But you sit there ever silently, 'Cause you can't hear it, Won't stand to hear it [...] I'm not who you think I am, If you think of me at all [...] You've let hate blossom, Now you cannot recognize [...] I wish your silence came from hate, Then at least I'd know why I'm to blame [...] So fine, I'll find the rage, To scorch out on my own, And in my wreckage, may you burn upon your throne [...] It seems to me, That I have always been the problem, Though I'd wish to solve it [...] I'm not who I think I am, When you think you've seen it all, In this frozen state of apathy, I've blossomed with every flaw, To hate I've fallen, And I now can't recognize, Your eyes that you despise [...] This feels wrong, It's not playing out right, How am I colder now, Upon a bridge I chose to ignite? [...] You close your eyes but open mine, I hate the way you make me hate myself for sharing eyes, You're not who you think you are, And I wish I never knew, I don't want to see the irony, That you hate me for being you.

Play With Fire by Sam Tinnesz - Savage copes with lighting fires, and she likes being dramatic. This song would be her jam. Let a girl be edgy and cringey. Insane, inside, The danger gets me high, Can't help myself, Got secrets I can't tell, I love the smell of gasoline, I light the match to taste the heat, I've always liked to play with fire.

Dead Mom from Beetlejuice - Savage sings to her Alive Dad, Wukong. Alternative lyrics can be found in the comment section on WGTKITD... somewhere. And no one sees me, Nothing seems to fit, Mamma is this it? Are you receiving? I want something to believe in or I'm done.

Already Dead by KittenSneeze - Savage talks about how she felt almost "possessed" by Macaque and Rumble as they forced her to fight and attempt to kill her own father, and how, now, she can't tell what she does or doesn't want anymore. I woke up in a daze, My mind in a haze, The smell of devastation lingers, What did he make me do? Or did I want to? I can't get the blood off my fingers [...] You don't need to believe me but just understand, That you can't get too close, Not with what I have planned [...] Do any of you know what it's like to walk through the fire? Know how to fight the crushing desire? Go with a knife to do what's required? I'm already dead since you got in my head!

Daddy's Little Monster by TryHardNinja - As the title suggests, Savage pleads for others to understand that she doesn't want to be cruel, she's just "daddy's little monster," referring to Macaque (for the most part). She wants to start anew, but feels like she's kept in a prison, especially as she looks at herself and remembers what she looks like now... Please don't be afraid, we're a little bent, Broken souls looking for a way to start again [...] You need us, we need you, it'll be alright, Yeah, it's alright, We don't want to stay under lock and key, You can help break the curse, we all wanna leave [...] If we could only shed our shells, Wear a mask and escape these cells, On the surface, we could start new.

Miss Wanna Die by JubyPhonic - Savage isn't exactly about being resurrected, and she isn't happy with her life... She would resonate with this song a lot. It both fits her character, and is a song she would listen to. Ah wanna die, wanna die, But don't really wanna die, You were there, you would care, Making me aware, Every scar, all the blood, More and more, they’re never done, Not enough, not enough, Ah wanna die, wanna die, But don't really wanna die, If I died, you would cry, And I don't know why [...] I wanna live, wanna live, Deep inside I've always been, Reaching out for a hand, so don’t let this be the end.

The Devil Within by Digital Daggers - Let's be real, this is how Savage sees herself, or wants to see herself. Cool, mysterious, dangerous... But really she's just angry. And dangerous. But, the song's vibes still stand---she wants to hurt others and protect herself. I made myself at home, In the cobwebs and the lies, I'm learning all your tricks, I can hurt you from inside, I made myself a promise, You would never see me cry, 'Til I make you [...] I'm gonna make you suffer, This hell you put me in, I'm underneath your skin, The devil within [...] Look what you made of me, Now I'm the heavy burden that you can't bear.

Rumble's

Sin Triangle by Sidney Gish - Rumble desperately wants to be like everybody else, but struggles with his own inner demons as he tries to fit in and be cool as a young demon, and then struggles with rebuilding his family as he feels guilty for destroying it in order to get what he'd wanted. Two-faced bitches never lie, And therefore I never lie, Diagram this sin triangle for me tonight, because, I don't know what to say, A sickness by another name, Wouldn't be sweet either but, With luck, it would at least look much more tame [...] Bill Woodruff here has something on his mind, He wants something, In fact [...] You want certain things from other people and your environment, The way you go about getting those things, Reveals your personality [...] Did you ever want, so much, To make a good impression on someone? What did you do? How accepted was your personality? Did you ever feel alone, out of place, When you wanted very much to be part of the group?

¿Viva la Gloria? (Little Girl) by Green Day - On the inside, Rumble is cracking under the knowledge of everything he did to harm (manipulate, deception, double-crossing) his family. He feels like a stray without a home. Little girl, little girl, Why are you crying? Inside your restless soul, Your heart is dying [...] There is no place like home, When you got no place to go [...] Little one, little one, The sky is falling, Your lifeboat of deception, Is now sailing [...] Your bloodshot eyes, Will show your heart of treason, Little girl, little girl, You dirty liar, You're just a junkie, Preaching to the choir [...] The traces of blood, Always follow you home, Like the mascara tears, From your getaway, You're walking with blisters, And running with shears, So unholy.

Icicles by The Scary Jokes - Rumble convinces himself of his self-entitlement; that he is better than everyone else. He is jealous of what everyone else has, both in past and present. He hates having to always be the one to "play nice." But, at the same time, his flaws (The one where you are crying, And I don't do anything at all, directly referring to his treatment of Savage) are catching up, and he can't stay on the pedestal he put himself on forever. Get in your zone, don't even look at them at all, Their shallow observations will only stall the transformation, You've become art, how could they even start to see, Beyond your presentation when they've got no imagination? [...] I can only be forgiven if I'm giving myself up to you, On a silver serving tray, Must I bare myself to the stabbing of your knife and gnashing teeth, While our lovely company appears so entertained? [...] My world has turned so cold, but I won't cry, 'Cause icicles don't soften when they die, So why should I?

Soup Song by Nep - Rumble has very mixed feelings towards his family, and he struggles under the weight of being the "good one" when no one else will try. I hate you and I loved you for a very long time, I do not share any more, I'd ask you how'd you do if I was feeling kind, I do not dare anymore, My mom got a new job, and my dad's doing just fine, I do not mind anymore [...] If I had a tendency to yell, Your ears would be numb, If I had it in me to tell you off, You would be done, I'm not used to feeling so down and so dumb, Guess I thought that I was lovable, Kinda thought that I was lovable [...] I put my head down, and you stepped on my neck, I cannot take any more.

Smokey Eyes by Lincoln - Rumble desperately wants to bring his family back together, and struggles through his emotions with how difficult it is. The song also has implications towards his struggles with addictions and unhealthy coping mechanisms. Some people want to be your friend, Some people just want to be free, And the worst thing about me, Is that I’m somewhere in between, I might miss you, But I’m still trying to get clean [...] Quiet lies that you’re telling to, Those black and screaming skies [...] This is not what all my idols told me college would be like, I hope someday you learn to take your own advice [...] So help me make amends with all my friends, Most other people are just dead ends, There’s nothing worse than making friends.

How Did You Love by Shinedown - Rumble would totally sing this family to his family, specifically his parents, questioning, "how did you love?" and what they left behind. You can try to fight it, just like every other careless mistake, How do you justify? I'm mystified by the ways of your heart, With a million lies, the truth will rise to tear you apart [...] Nothing ever feels the quite same when you are what you dreamed, And you will never look at anything the same when you see what I see, How we forget ourselves, lose our way from the cradle to the grave [...] No one gets out alive, every day is do or die, The one thing you leave behind, Is how did you love, how did you love?

[aeligsido]

[WM] Prompt 27 — Fix-It.

Rating: T.

TW: war and its consequences on the survivors.

Characters: Sirius Black, Remus Lupin.

Additional Tags: hurt/comfort, it’s 1993 if anyone is asking, not explicitly said but the characters have PTSD, Altair is Remus & Sirius’ son, Daisy is James & Lily’s daughter, lots of characters are actually mentioned but I don’t want to write all their names sorryyyy.

Summary: Tomorrow is September 1st, and Sirius can’t sleep.

Words count: 604.

A/N: At first I was thinking about fixing Sirius’ death but then went ahead and fixed everyone’s death bc why not. Also I was hesitating between right after the end of the war when it's still fresh or way down the line, but it kinda flew that way. I hope you like it! ❤️

@wolfstarmicrofic

—

It’s the third batch of kids they’re sending off to their first year at Hogwarts, and yet it’s still the hardest thing he’s ever done.

Sirius wonders if it’ll ever change, or if each time he’ll still feel like he’s taking his heart out of his chest to let it walk free around the world.

Last year it was Maxime, and the year before that Harry, Neville, and Susan; this year it’s Daisy and Altair, his niece and his son.

“You’re thinking too loud,” mumbles his husband against him, and Sirius relaxes at the sound of his voice.

“Sorry, love.” He drops a kiss in Remus’ hair and listens as his husband hums happily.

The silver lightning here is that Remus will be with the children, at least; it’ll be his sixth year as the DADA teacher already. Alex will be starting his second year as the Divination teacher as well, and their eldest all took the class — probably more to annoy their uncle than anything else, though.

“You’re thinking too loud again.”

Sirius cuddles Remus closer to him — or as closer as he can without smothering him.

“I know, sorry. You know how I get.”

Remus yawns. “It’s about tomorrow?”

Tomorrow, first day of the new year, when he’ll put his niece (mischievous and stubborn and brave) and his son (his firstborn, naive and smart and kind) into the Hogwarts Express and watch them leave.

It should be easier. They’re at peace, and their family is whole, and close, and happy. But the war left its scars, both carved into their body and burned into their mind. It’s in the way they cling to each other and never quite let go, in the wards always up around their houses and kids and themselves, in the panic and anxiety and reflexes they’re still learning to control; it's in James’ need for their locations at all time, in Peter’s still shameful silences, in Lily’s gaze scouring for threats, in Alice’s fingers always hovering above her wand, in Frank’s ever growing backup of newly created wards, in Fabian’s inability to go outside alone, in Mary’s hands shaking when she leaves home, in Marlene’s grip when she squeezes them to life, in Dorcas’ startles at too sudden movements, in Regulus’ ever present night terrors, in Paula’s too-tight hugs, in Alex’s too old eyes.

It’s in Remus' frozen smiles on bad days, and in Sirius’ impossibility to let go.

It’s in all of them, and sometimes he wonders if it’ll ever leave; most days, he hardly notices it anymore, and they call it progress.

“It’ll be okay,” murmurs Remus against his skin. He kisses Sirius almost absentmindedly before nuzzling back against his chest, ready to go to sleep.

And Sirius smiles, taken with so much love and fondness and gratefulness he almost chokes on it.

The war is more than ten years into their past. It can stay here. He has children to send to school and curses to break and family to take care of, and it’s a work he fought to have, to keep.

He’s not letting go, but maybe it’s alright.

“I know,” he murmurs back, even if he can feel Remus already asleep in his arms.

“I know,” he says louder to the moon and the stars and the earth and the sky.

“I know,” he says, lastly, to himself, and this time he believes it.

In the morning, he’ll help Daisy get on the train, and he’ll hug Altair goodbye, and he’ll tell all the kids he loves them, and they all will be here to do so.

But for now, Sirius finally sleeps.

[wastemanjohn]

unfinished boymom!mary fic

hi here are some snippets from a little something i've been working on if you like it give me a boot up the arse to finish it please thanks

Snippet 1:

Dean’s taking the scenic route home in his father's car with the windows rolled all the way down and an AC/DC album at the lowest volume in the tapedeck, chewing a piece of gum to soak up the taste-hangover of tobacco and sweet chemical jungle juice, taking deliberate breaths of liquor-sweet summer night air to help his focus. He's on high alert; trying to look as though he's not. On a night like this, there's a high probability of a bored, jobsworth cop around somewhere, looking to catch a lone kid out.

And it's not that Dean doesn't know better than this. It's definitely not that he didn't have his share of horrific nightmares after that scaremonger video Miss Osterberg made them watch in health class, the one that had kids with burn scars and missing limbs and glass eyes from catastrophic accidents telling horrific stories while a grave voiced narrator spat statistics that sounded made up. Get home alive, was the slogan, flashing up in eerie white text on a black screen. Don’t drink and drive.

And Dean wouldn't. Not usually. He's a good kid. A good kid who graduated high school today with grades well in the upper echelon of his class, a good kid with lots of friends and an abundance of invitations to the various house parties he's been milling between with the guys all night. And Dean’s friends are still at those parties, jumping into backyard pools with their clothes still on, vomiting on each other’s shoes, slurring promises to stay in touch forever, even if they’ll be at colleges eight states apart in a matter of weeks. It’s not like any of them are in a fit state to give Dean a ride home themselves. Hell, not a single friend of his even has home on their minds, not at the pitiful hour of 2am where the biggest night of their lives so far should just be getting started. But Dean doesn't mind needing to leave early. He was getting pretty tired anyway. 

And as he drives, down dead suburban streets with dark, sleeping houses, he's followed only by the shadows of gnomes and hydrangeas and mini wishing wells in tightly maintained front yards. He doesn't see a single soul, a single pair of headlights on the road other than his own. It’s rare, actually, that Dean knows such quiet. Such aloneness. And if there’s something comforting about it - well, it’s been a busy day. Lots of noise. Lots of people. 

In fact, as Dean makes it to his own street - in one tipsy piece and sans new criminal record - he finds himself slowing down. Stopping altogether just on the corner, shifting the handbrake touched thoughtlessly again and again by his father’s hands; and Dean takes a second, just a second, to lean back in the cool old-leather seat he has vague, time-faded memories of Dad occupying, listening to the music he has vague, time-faded memories of Dad playing, if a little distorted now with taperot and age - and he thinks about how driving the Impala is kind of like sitting in a time capsule. Kind of like slipping unnoticed into someone else’s shape, someone else’s imprint on the world; somewhere Dean can quietly belong, in this moment anyway, because Dean’s so entirely, incredibly alone right now, and no one can tell him that he can’t.

And Dean runs his thumbs along that steering wheel - really listens to the music. It's new to him, Dad's old classic rock stuff, but he likes it, he thinks. Stuff Mom can't have on in the house, because it's too painful; stuff that he'd never think to seek out himself anyway. Kids at his school are mostly into Red Hot Chilli Peppers and Tupac, and Dean is into them too by osmosis, because it’s all he ever really gets to listen to. But maybe he too would have liked hair metal and face-melting classic rock, if Dad had lived.

He’s only had Dad’s Impala for a few months. Had no idea Mom planned to give him the keys for his eighteenth birthday; hadn’t ever really thought about it ever coming out of its tarpaulin wrapping in the garage again, like a sheet covering the dead. And Dean had been alone then, too; alone with that moment, as he’d peeled back that sheet with a trembling hand and opened the driver door to find everything exactly as he remembered. 

Dad had been pretty messy. There was still a half-full cigarette packet on the dashboard, open so Dean could see the speckled beige tips, like Dad had been planning on coming back to them later. Cassette tapes on the passenger's seat, scattered, either stuffed into the wrong jewel cases or missing them entirely. There was a fast food wrapper under a layer of dust in the footwell. And the smell - car oil and blue collar sweat and trace cologne underneath. It kicked Dean square in the chest, that smell; flooded him with fragmented memories of this giant who’d come home in the evenings with dirty hands and pink tired eyes but still scoop Dean up in his arms with a big grin and a hey, buddy , spinning him around in the air until Dean was giddy and squealing, and Dad would be red in the face from laughing; and he’d take him out to the yard to kick a ball around before dinner even though he must’ve been exhausted, then at the weekends he’d ferry Dean down to the park and buy him an ice cream as big as his head with his finger on his grinning lips and a whispered, don’t tell your mother. And Dean had felt these memories like a freight train; climbed into the seat where Dad used to sit, and put his hands on the steering wheel Dad used to touch, and then he’d pushed his head against it too, and, alone and unseen, he broke down into the most violent, pathetic sobs of his life.

It’s hard, in the moment, not to do the same again. Hasn't been easy all day. Turns out there's nothing like graduating high school as the only kid in his grade without a father watching to bring it all back.

When he finally brings himself to stop the tape and get out of the car, he feels a little more sober; he can see a faint light still on in the living room. He breathes in a lungful of cooled but still humid night air, and thinks to himself, not for the first time, that he had absolutely no business going out tonight in the first place. If Dean’s feeling Dad’s absence today then god knows how Mom is feeling. But his friends wanted to party, and they wanted Dean to party with them, and they wanted Dean to drink and dance and hit on girls, and Dean just kind of gets swept up in things that way. He remembered wanting it strongly in the way Dean doesn’t usually want things, to do something normal, something kids his age are meant to do. Feel normal, like everyone else, when he felt anything but.

He opens the front door quietly. Sam will be asleep, or maybe awake with his headphones on and a book open under torchlight covers, but either way Dean doesn’t want to disturb him. Sam isn’t speaking to him at the moment. He’s not really speaking to Mom either, but that's just par for the course these days. He's fourteen and he’s sullen and he's angry. Mom says he's going through a phase. 

The light is coming from that gothic looking lamp on the side table. There's a near full bottle of white wine next to it, accompanied by a glass with just dregs left inside. Mom is on the couch, in her silk white night slip, sitting with her bare legs crossed underneath her. Her shoulders rise as Dean comes in,  but she doesn't look up. 

“Mom?”

She runs a hand through her hair, scraped back off her face in the remnants of that pretty updo she spent an hour on before the ceremony, now a little unravelled and wild. 

"Mom?” He tries a smile. “I'm home."

Her arms gather at her waist. She doesn't answer.

From her side profile, Dean can tell enough; her eyes are bleary, bloodshot, from the wine, sure, but Dean knows from the puffiness underneath and the mascara smears on her cheeks that she's been crying. Shit.

"I… I lost track of time. Didn't - uh, I didn't realize how late it was."

"Do you have any idea what's been going through my head, Dean?"

She still doesn't look at him. Like she can't bring herself to. The thought pierces Dean. He hovers, awkward hands by his side. “I'm -”

"I was about to pick up the phone and report you missing. Or dead, maybe. Not like I had any damn way of knowing."

That pit grows; he's never seen Mary this upset.

"Guess it would have killed you to answer your phone, huh? Guess a little courtesy call to let me know you weren't lying dead in a wreck somewhere was too much to ask."

"I - Mom, it won't happen again, I swear. I was - I was with the guys, and -"

“The guys. Sure.” Mary snatches up that wine glass. “But screw me, right? I’m only your mother.”

“Mom, don't - come on. It wasn’t like that.”

Except; it kind of was like that. It kind of was like Dean ignoring the vibrations of his phone, letting her calls go to voicemail unanswered. It was letting the texts that said things like Call me I’m worried and Baby come home its late barely read and unanswered. It took five missed calls in quick succession and a message reading Dean I really need you for Dean to get his ass in the car and drive back. To stop leaving his mother to rot. His loving, doting, widowed mother.

There are often nights like this, with Mom, where she gets all upset. Where Dean has to prise that wine bottle out of her hand and use every one of his learned tricks to get her to go to bed. But Dean doesn’t remember ever being the cause of her misery.

His mother drains the dregs in her glass in one angry gulp. Ignoring Dean. She’s never ignored Dean before. And it's like the world tilts the wrong way. Dean feels panicked, sick.

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

Snippet 2:

“Anyway,” Mary says, “I wanna hear more about the party.”

Dean isn't sure there's much to tell. He spent most of it a few stone’s throws away from the center of the action. He watched dance-offs. He returned hugs from drunk girls and listened to their stories about how Mr Clement is such an asshole and how could he only give me a B?, making consoling noises in the right places. He remembers making himself very, very scarce when a game of seven minutes in heaven broke out. 

Dean asks, “What do you want to know?”

Mary picks up the wine bottle again. “You know, I loved partying when I was your age. It’s so fun, isn’t it? You’re young. You’re excited. All you wanna do is have a good time.”

Theres a smile on her face, but Dean can't quite place it. “I didn't know you used to party.”

Again, probably not the kind of thing a mother shares with her son either. But glimpses of Mary's life before, before Dad, before him and Sammy, are scarcely given, no matter what they look like, and Dean can't help but be obsessed with them when they arise.

“Oh, yeah.” Dean watches her top up her wine; fill the glass almost to the brim. “I went through that phase, honey. Drinking, boys. Sneaking out of the house.”

“Really? You did?”

Dean's half surprised; half thinking about how that's another thing. Sneaking out of the house - from who? From Dean's grandparents? Mom never really talks about them, either. Aside from things like this, as part of something else, a vague implication of their existence; not that they exist anymore, anyway. They died years before Dean was born.

“It's an exciting time,” Mary says. “You've got your whole lives ahead of you. You're at that age where you really believe you're gonna change the world.”

“It's too late to get philosophical, Mom,” Dean says, with a laugh. An apprehensive one.

Mary isn't quite looking at him. “Who was at the party, Dean?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Dean says. “Everyone, I guess.”

“Everyone,” Mary repeats, with this look on her face that Dean can’t quite translate. “Who’s everyone?”

“I don't know. Just - everyone.” Dean laughs a little. Feels like he’s answering the question wrong.

That look doesn’t wane. “You're being very vague, Dean.”

“I'm - not really sure what you want from me here.”

Mary's lips irk up in something that isn't quite a smile. “Were there girls, Dean?”

“Yeah, Mom, of course there were girls. Everyone in our grade was out.” 

“Dean. What I’m getting at - is there a girl?”

A girl. Singular. And Dean guesses there was a girl. Kind of, depending on how you translate these things. He spent about five minutes in the blue part of the evening making out with Lara Stamp tonight; lovely Lara, with her pretty face and her wealthy Dad and her celebrity status popularity, her cheerleading tricks and her hair extensions and her designer perfume, her acrylic nails that kept catching on loose threads in Dean’s shirt when her hands wandered over his body, braver and more unrestrained than Dean’s. They'd been in Isaac Jones’ parents’ bedroom, the lights off, and Dean had tried to finger her a little, but she'd kept mewling and complaining he was hurting her - god, haven't you done this before? - and eventually she'd batted his hand away and she'd seemed annoyed when she'd kissed him again, and it was dry and awkward that time, the fire-fervor burned out. And Dean still doesn’t really know what he did wrong - why she muttered its like you’re somewhere else, Dean, its like youre always somewhere else - why she'd got up without a word and done her bra up again with her back to him, and then she'd said see you around and left, and Dean hadn’t seen her around at all, he hadn't seen her again all night. And Dean remembers going to look for another beer, unable to stop thinking about how strange her pussy had felt around his fingers, the first he’d ever touched, hot and squishy and somehow not like he expected; and he felt like an idiot, and a child, and a disappointment. 

Yeah - after tonight, there’s definitely no girl. 

“There’s no girl, Mom,” Dean confirms, aloud. Well aware of the pause he left before answering.

A faint smile passes Mary’s lips. “I’m not stupid, honey.”

“Mom -”

“Home so late? Didn't hear your phone?"

Mary looks towards her lap; she really thinks she's right, Dean realizes. He wonders if the tears and texts make more sense now. How strange it is that that would cross his mind at all.

"It’s only natural at your age, honey. I thought we don't keep.secrets from each other?”

Dean thinks back to those bank statements. “There’s no girl,” Dean says again. “I'd tell you, Mom, I swear.” 

“Hmm,” Mary drags it out, like she doesn’t quite believe him. That smile gets a little sharper. “Well. I’ve got my eye on you, Dean Winchester.”

“Mom,” Dean tuts. 

But Mary laughs, and takes such a long gulp of her wine that Dean feels a little sick by proxy. “Your father never strayed, Dean. Not once.”

“That's - good.” But of course Dad would never do something like that.

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

Snippet 3

“This is all I always wanted, you know, To have things like this to worry about,”

She says it like she had worse to worry about once. Dean can feel those ceramic angels’ eyes staring into the back of his head from the cabinet, silent and knowing.

Mary’s lip quivers again, and when she takes Dean’s hand, the inside of her palm feels condensation cold. “Mom, what’s wrong?”

She shakes her head a little; a watery smile bursts through. “Nothing, honey. I just keep thinking about you up there today. How grown up and handsome you looked.”

Dean scoffs a bit. Handsome is Brad Pitt  or salt-and-pepper bearded guys, not an awkward kid graduating high school, walking across a rickety stage in ill-fitting hire robes. Fighting the urge to hide his face for his mother's ear splitting cheering, louder than anyone else's. He shouldn’t be embarrassed. He has no reason to be embarrassed.

“I looked like an idiot,” he mumbles.

Mary narrows her eyes. Makes this deep furrow in her brow. “This is what I’m talking about, Dean. You just don’t see what everyone else sees.”

Dean finds himself thinking of the time his homeroom teacher waved him over before first period and handed him a flyer for some after school programme, Self Esteem and Me, telling him quietly that he should think about attending. He’d promptly thrown it in the trash on the way to first period and tried to forget about it. 

And anyway, there’s this way Mary looks at him sometimes, when she’s had too much wine and too much to think; a look that’s unplaceable to anything Dean’s ever experienced. He thinks he knows what it is though; he thinks it’s a mother’s love. Mary says it’s the most powerful thing on the planet. And Dean knows he’s lucky to have it. There aren't many things in life that Dean feels good about, not really, overwhelmingly happy-good anyway. But that? That makes him feel amazing.

Mary touches his hair, gentle as when he was a little kid; runs her hands through it. He leans up into it like a dog, because her love really does feel so good . Like a warm blanket, or a hard drug.  “You know what your father used to say, Dean?”

The mention of Dad is kind of jarring. As felt as he’s been all day, he’s remained unspoken, like he always does on big occasions. Like he always does unless Mary brings him up first. You keep Dad to yourself; you keep him in your head, ignore the elephant, no matter how violently it swings its trunk around. You never know how Mary will react.

Mary doesn't wait for Dean to respond. “He used to watch you for hours. Couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Playing with your toys, reading your books. You used to sound out the letters. Did you know that you taught yourself to read?”

Mary tells him these things sometimes. If you listen to Mary, Dean could tell the time at the ripe old age of eighteen months as well. He scoffs; “Yeah, Mom, sure. I was one of those Hemingway toddlers.” 

“Dean. Listen.”

Dean listens.

“And do you know what he’d say?” Mary’s voice catches a little; her fingers get a bit more insistent in Dean’s hair. “He’d say, look at him. This kid is special. And I know all parents think their kid is special. But we didn’t just think it. We knew it. And - ”

Dean doesn’t hear most of those words. “Dad really used to say that?”

“Yeah,” Mary smiles, watery and weak. “He loved you so much, Dean.”

Dean can see tears crystallizing in her eyes again. He squeezes her hand, harder than he means to, but Mary doesn’t flinch.

“I  only wish he could’ve seen you today. He’d be so damn proud of you.”

“Mom,” Dean whispers. He means to add, don’t cry . Or maybe just, don’t.

Would Dad have yelled the place down too? Would Dad have clapped him on the back and brought him home for a quick illegal beer and told Dean with tears in his eyes, son, I’m so proud of you ? Would Dad remember that time Dean sat in his lap looking at a space book, astronaut, with love in his voice, you work hard, kiddo, and you can be whatever you wanna be. You’re gonna make me so proud of you some day.

“Me and your father,” Mary says, with trembling lips, “we made your bones.”

Mary always says this. Dean doesn’t know exactly what it means, but sometimes it’s just better to let her talk.

“You,” she whispers, “You - you’re all I have left of him.”

“Don’t say that, Mom.” But Dean can see how it’s true. What else is there?

“It’s not fair,” Mary whispers. “It’s just - it’s so damn unfair .”

It is. Unfairness has been a curse on this house, their lives, and as Mary’s voice cracks on the word, Dean feels that like a knife, this blunt, breath-snatching agony in the center of his chest; he hides it from Mom though, because seeing Dean sad only ever upsets her even more. She doesn’t need that tonight; so Dean shoves it down, as Mary lays her head against his, one of her ways of seeking comfort. On his shoulder.

Dean gives it by laying a steadying arm around her. the way he envisioned Dad might do if he were to comfort her, if he had to be strong for her. He feels that delicate warmth under his palm, the way her chest is heaving a little, and he wishes with everything inside him that he knew how to take her pain away. But he can’t.

Dean isn't good at many things in life. But he's good at giving comfort.

He listens to Mary draw a breath. Feels it himself, like the wind. “But hey, Dean. It’s our lot in life, right?”

She calls it that a lot, our lot in life. And Dean thinks about it often; sounds like something you were given, something you can’t help, something you cant change even if you wanted to. That lack of control is terrifying, but there’s something oddly comforting about it too.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Snippet 4:

They sit there like that for a while. Close, quiet. Dean thumbing away the tears on his mother’s cheeks. Her forehead sticky against his. Her hand gripping his so tight that it smarts, but Dean can handle it. There’s not a sound from upstairs, from outside. Suburban quiet, peaceful and dead still, enough that Dean can hear his breaths, hear Mary’s, out of sync with each other. Dean can feel Dad alright. Billowing around the room like smoke. Multiple sets of his eyes looking out at them from the photographs lining sideboards, cabinets, staring out into this beautiful suburban living room that should’ve been his home forever.

Sometimes it niggles at Dean, that he doesn’t know entirely what happened. When he got a little older, old enough to understand things a little better, he was told Dad died in an accident at work, with the kind of sparse details that hinted he really didn’t want to know them. But Dean has this vague memory, before that, maybe not long after it happened; he was small enough to sit in his mother’s lap still, and he wasn’t speaking, he remembers that; he didn’t speak for a whole year after it happened. But he remembered Mom holding onto him a little bit like now, crying a lot like now, and holding Dean so close his little ribs felt like they’d snap, and she kept whispering over and over, it got him, baby. The demon got him.

And as he’s gotten older Dean has thought back to that moment and how he must be misremembering. How Mom must have said demons plural. As in Dad’s demons got him; that maybe Dad made the accident happen, on purpose, to pulverize those demons along with his body.  He wonders though; what those demons were. He knows Dad was a veteran. Mary keeps his dog tags on the shelf with his photos. Could be something to do with that, maybe. 

Or something different entirely. Dean remembers Mom and Dad fighting sometimes. He remembers it getting worse after Sammy was born. He remembers being woken up by the sound of Sammy’s fitful newborn cries, underpinned by stage whispers, clearly not for his ears, but Dean could hear them, harsh and venomous, and then the whispers would stop altogether and there’d be yelling, there’d be words that Dean knew were curse words, then a door would slam and Dean would hear the Impala starting up in the driveway, and then he’d hear a rattle, like Mom was kicking or punching something, and he’d clutch his tatty blue teddybear close to his chest and not be able to sleep until he heard Dad come back again. He remembers this fear, this loud, cold fear, that Dad might not come back at all. 

It happened.

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

Snippet 5:

“Please, Dean?” A wan, slightly pleading smile. “I don’t wanna be alone right now. Can we just stay up and talk or something?”

Her voice cracks, and Dean can’t bear it. And besides; he knows his mother is incredibly, desperately lonely. The air in the room is warm, musky, balmy air filtering in through the open window. Smells fresh, intertwines with the Fresh Linen and Orange Blossom reed diffusers Mary has on her shelves. The traces of Diorella perfume on Mary’s body, all she’ll ever wear, because Dad loved the smell. It’s so - it’s all so comforting to Dean. All he’s ever known.

He smooths her hair out of her face; “Alright, Mom. I’ll - we can talk. Sure.”

There’s a new flush of life on her face, like she’s reanimated. “Lay down with me, Dean?”

Dean can’t explain his hesitation to himself. The words hitting him wrong again. It won’t be the first time he’s had to sleep next to her. Making sure she doesn’t aspirate on her own vomit, if she’s been throwing up for reasons she attributes to anything but alcohol or medication, or when he hears her having one of her nightmares, the really bad kind where she cries out in her sleep. And as Mary hoists herself up on the bed, shifts over clumsily to make room for Dean, he thinks about Sam - it’s weird, the two of you are weird, and no, we’re not , he snaps back at him in his mind. Sam just doesn’t understand, doesn’t even know he’s fucking born.

And with that in mind, Dean shrugs it off and carries on taking care of his mother. Climbs up onto the bed, with its Febreze locked into the fibres, the smell of Mary’s citrus shampoo on the pillows; and Mary’s facing him and leaning on an elbow, and she shifts a little closer on the mattress, until her bare calves are brushing against Dean’s.

Everything is very, very quiet. So quiet that Dean can hear the blood go solid in his veins. Dad’s blood. Dad’s bones. We made your bones.

So quiet that he can hear the elevation in Mary’s breath. Hear the whisper of his shirt under Mary’s fingers as she runs them down his chest. There’s a different quality to her wine-spaced eyes, a quality Dean recognizes; the way Lara Stamp looked at him earlier before he let her down. Adjacent to the feeling stirring the hairs on the back of his neck when he’d sense his gym coach staring at him sometimes. Maybe not the first time Mary has looked at him that way, if Dean is really honest with himself, especially not on nights like this; there’s an amnesia block on that look , whenever it isnt happening.

But this is different. This is the first time Dean can really see the shiver rolling through his mother’s body.

Mom’s lips part. “Promise that no matter what - you’d never leave me?”

“I’m - Mom, are you with me? You know I’m -”

Not Dad dies on his tongue. Mary is with him alright.

There’s a strangeness to it that makes the world feel off kilter, upside down, and entirely changed in just a second; and he watches Mary’s lips flutter. “Can I show you something, Dean?”

She cups Dean’s face in her hand and leans in close, so close; and she doesn’t wait for an answer. Mary’s lips taste like ethanol and sugar, and her little gasp snags on the corner of Dean’s mouth; and her tongue is - god - Mary’s tongue is on his, plush wet and insistent; and there’s this heat-rush in Dean’s blood, this sense of the body he feels indifferent to and disconnected from most of the time switching on in a way it never has before.

He makes a choked sound. He might actually be choking. It’s panic; it’s something more complicated. And Mary draws back immediately, and her face is burst capillary flushed and her breaths are rough and she looks so pretty and fragile and she’s everything, she’s everything to Dean, and he’d do anything for her, and he’s mixed up and sick with it, and maybe that’s why he’s shaking, an earthquake in his bones -

“It’s okay,” Mary whispers, hands running manically through his hair. “Don’t be scared, baby. It’s okay.”

She whispers it over and over, like a prayer, like a mantra; hooks a leg over his waist, presses her chest up to his, and Dean can feel the press of her tits, her crotch. Her - her cunt .

His head is spinning. It’s moving fast, fast . Mary rolls her hips, slow, shudders through her lips; insistent press into Dean’s dick, rush of cotton-denim friction -

“Dean,” Mary sighs, eyes devil dark, both hands on his face, “Have you ever fucked a girl before, Dean?”

“N-no,” Dean stutters out. 

It’s the first time he’s admitted it out loud; and he’s sure the shame of that shows on his face, but Mary would never judge him, never think less of him for anything; and Mary just lets out this long breath and says, “Okay. That’s okay. I’ll show you.”

It occurs to Dean that maybe Mary seems more sober than she did just now; and he lets her take his hand, he lets her, Dean lets her; he watches her parted lips brush over his fingers like they aren’t his.

“I’ll show you,” Mary says again, breathless. “Just relax. Let Mommy show you, okay?”

“O-okay,” Dean chokes again as Mary’s lips close around his fingertips, and she holds his gaze as she suckles around them gently; her mouth feels soft and hot, and the sensation is new to Dean, alien, and he can’t decide what he feels for it. Mary gasps; and Dean watches, watches the glisten of saliva that isn’t his on his fingers, watches Mary move his hand between her legs. Beneath her white slip, she’s been wearing white all day; she's not wearing panties.

Mary’s eyes roll. “You feel that?” 

Dean does. Silk heat, wiry hair. Wet. She feels different to Lara. 

A sound catches in his throat.

“Touch me,” she breathes out, millimetres from his lips. “It’s okay. I want you to.”

“Mom,” Dean stutters back, and no, and don't just won’t quite follow; and Mary catches it on her mouth, and her kiss is so rough this time that Dean’s blood hums and his hips jerk; and he can feel Mary’s hands, on his shoulders, on his chest, hear her moan dragging against his teeth, and then heat-air hits his chest, she’s getting his shirt open; and Dean’s supposed to be touching , so that’s what he does. Blindly drags his saliva-wet fingers across Mary’s folds, her gasp like an electric shock; lips going slack against his as he cautiously pushes one inside. Silk soft clutch, and Dean isn’t sure what to do, whether he’s supposed to move it or what; but then Mary growls, fists his half-open shirt, and Dean’s breath catches for the drag of teeth against his lower lip.

“God, now,” she mutters. “Dean, I need you now.”

And it happens fast, it happens so so fucking fast ; Dean’s body is stiff and puppet-like all at once, and the light in the room is too bright, those laundry-perfume scents in his throat, and he’s staring up at Mary, straddling his hips, her eyes closed as she tugs at his belt buckle, the zipper on his jeans; the hiss of it hits Dean’s back teeth. And something washes over him, then; like a feverish waking dream. Looming vivid images of himself loading up the Impala at the quiet crack of dawn, filling the trunk, backseats, with labelled cardboard boxes, a college acceptance letter in the glove compartment on top of the photograph of his family and his enrolment paperwork. Parties, people from different states and countries, coffee shops and lecture halls; and Dean would change, he’d grow, he’d find himself , that’s what his teachers kept saying about college, that you find yourself there; and maybe Dean would meet a beautiful girl who was studying law or medicine or something, and on graduation day he’d propose to her and give a spiel about her being the love of his life, down on one knee outside the lecture hall where they first met, and she’d cry and jump and say yes, yes , and there’d be a beautiful wedding and Dean would get onto a graduate scheme and go to work in a suit and they’d go for fancy dinners and they’d travel, they’d live the kind of life his friends want. Although it wouldn’t even need to be that fancy; Dean could stay in Lawrence, he could move out now, he could get a job as a bartender or a bricklayer and rent a shitty apartment, he could run into Lara Stamp at the mall or the gas station one day on accident and end up reconnecting, and she’d give him another chance, and he’d blink and he’d be married, and her rich Daddy would buy them a beautiful house in an upmarket neighbourhood, and they’d have three beautiful babies who’d go to private school and go on to do great things, and Dean would be stable, life would be stable, and Lara would age beautifully and he’d be the kind and steady glue man-of-the-house holding it all together, and it would be a damn fucking good apple pie life.

But that’s not Dean’s life, because his father is dead, and his home is sad and broken, and his baby brother’s got the devil in him these days, and his mother needs him louder than the oxygen in her blood. And Dean thinks back to that drink-drive video Miss Osterberg showed, the deaths, the injuries, the statistics. Thinks about what it would be like if Dean became one of them, if he’d given into careless driving and veered off the road and if his car had rolled over three times and caught fire, and it’d be gruesome and bloody, and god, what would happen if Dean never made it home at all -

But he did, and now this is happening. His dick is bare, it’s hard and his mother’s hand is on it, her other hand on his chest, and she’s bared over him, bracing herself, and her hair is in his face, and this is fucking happening ; and Dean’s panting and still, and Mary’s face is close to his, and she’s panting too; and if Dean is crying a little, no one seems willing to point it out, least of all himself.

“I love you,” she whispers, tender like a promise, gut-suck horrifying; “I love you so much, my sweet baby boy.”

And Dean clings to that. Clings to Mary, to her hips, unsure what to do with his hands, as she sinks down onto his cock, silk-hot-clutch, god, brand new sensation, scrambles Dean’s head, he’s never felt anything like it; and Mary’s eyes flutter closed, she moans, pitchy-loud, a sound Dean should never know. But it can’t hurt when you’re nothing, and you don’t know what you want.

“Love you,” she gasps again, head tilting back, “fuck, love you so much.”

Dean can feel himself getting harder. Feel his body taking over, pushing him deeper inside himself, building a wall between him and how fucking good his mother feels inside. Her head tilting back like an exorcism, her mouth open, as she rocks on top of him, her hands grabbing, up in his shirt, his hair, her mouth open; and those cries are words sometimes, they’re cries of fuck and Dean and sometimes they’re cries of John , they blur up, and Dean feels heavy and far away; and it doesn’t matter who Mary’s calling for anyway, because Dean is both blank canvas and magic mirror, he’s made of fragments that don’t make a whole, and it just doesn’t matter. It’s his lot in life.

[ofgravcyards]

    ❝ It’s hard to be disappointed when what you expected turns out to be true . ❞

             𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟⧸𝑓𝑖𝑙𝑒 :  jessica stanley   »   hybrid   »   madelyn cline  .

❛❛   aesthetic.  ❜❜   ⸻   ◜   ❏  . ⸻  it’s so loud inside her head with words she never said , she had been crafted from the darkness between the stars , lonesome nights and a thoughtful mind ,  trying so hard but she will never be the one  ⸻triggers : death , neglect .

🇦​🇵​🇵​🇱​🇮​🇨​🇦​🇹​🇮​🇴​🇳 »

* ⠀ ✞ ⠀ &. madelyn cline : cis woman : she/her : bloody mary by lady gaga — It seems jessica stanley has been roaming Volterra. the 21/25 -year-old hybrid has been in the city for three months . Whispers in volterra says they’ve never heard of anyone like them. 

🇧​🇦​🇸​🇮​🇨​🇸 »

full name : jessica stanley .

age : 21 / 25 .

date of birth : march 21st .

occupation : marine biologist / internship at marina vita.

species : hybrid .

language(s) spoken : english  ,  spanish  ,  french .

hair color : dirty blonde .

eye color : light brown .

notable scars : n/a .

🇮​🇳​🇹​🇪​🇷​🇮​🇴​🇷​»

positive : forthright  ,  hardworking .

negative : insecure  ,  sarcastic .

moral alignment : good neutral .

hogwarts house : gryffindor .

deadly sin : envy .

abilities : molecular manipulation  |  this power allows users to manipulate matter on a molecular level : immobilization , combustion , reversion .  

🇫​🇦​🇻​🇴​🇷​🇮​🇹​🇪​🇸​ »

book : the giver by lois lowry .

movie : national treasure .

food : chinese food , anything spicy , blood .

flower : roses .

season : spring .

🇫​🇦​🇲​🇮​🇱​🇾​​ »

father :  unknown .

mother : mrs. stanley .  

mate / significant other :  ( wanted connection ) .

🇧​​🇮🇴​​ »

so pretty much all is canon with jessica personality wise ( up until a certain point ) :

—  Jessica was born a hybrid . Human mother who died during her birth and vampire father . Much to his surprise he had kept her a secret up until she was 5 to which her growth rate slowed down . He kept in touch with her mother’s side of the family just to have that mundane connection and the love of his life that was cut too short because of him . 

—  eventually by the time jessica turned 8 , she found her father dead when she came home from school . His body burning in the woods they lived near by and all she could do is watch as the ashes flew into the wind . Because of what he was , jessica could only call her aunt and tell her that her father disappeared as he taught her to do . 

—  Jessica’s human family moved her into Forks when she was still a small child, unknown to them in what she was , she knew to simply pretend to be human . she  has always thought of herself as being less provincial than the locals . Coming from the city and moving to a small town , it was a lot of change to adjust to when younger but she still grew to love the small town . 

—  despite being well off , growing up jessica’s home life was rather a lonely one . dead parents ,  a neglectful aunt and an uncle who barely notices her , pushed her all the most forward into being top of her class and winning awards . Perhaps then her mundane family would look at her way and maybe tell her about her mother more than what her father knew and pictures .  

—   as she entered high school , jessica came to learn that her achievements would never reach her aunt and uncle because it was something they didn’t care for . her grandmother showed more effort but only connected with jessica when she helped out at the store or helped make an outfit . 

—   she still puts up a front in the public eye . seek attention there and with her friends . although she’s not loyal to any of her friends . mostly because in her experience , if they end up hurting her , she wont be as hurt or affected by it . her only times she was truly happy and excited was whenever she helped her grandmother with the fashion store she owned . 

—   She knew what the cullens were and considering she was a variable never thought possible she would simply let others think she was human and never thought about them being anything other than just like her at playing human . 

—   focusing on her studies , high school passed by in a breeze soon after . graduating as valedictorian and top of her class , jessica was suppose to go to a fancy university but decided to give up her scholarship money . asking that the $40,000 scholarship awarded to her be given to a student attending community college in her class ( not including herself ) . helping out others in the process . she's attending college to get her masters in marine biology.

—  for the past year jessica has been in italy . three months ago she came to volterra to study their marine life with her sponsor via internship.

[shallowseeker]

Dean, Cas, Jack and the kitchen and Jack's childhood bedroom as common domain

It's so interesting that Dean and Cas are more often portrayed meeting Jack in his bedroom or the bunker kitchen to counsel him or bring him nourishment, at least compared to his other parental figures (Sam, Mary, Bobby).

Sam is undoubtedly his parent, but he's associated more often with the library and pencils--mentor symbols. Of note, Mary also meets Jack in the kitchen and gives familial encouragement in 14x17 Game Night, but her knife training with Jack takes place in the library. Donatello counsels Jack in his kitchen in 14x15 Peace of Mind, but like Sam, there's visual books in the background. It has an added layer of advice-giving/mentorship.

///

In 13x23 Let the Good Times Roll, we get Dean coming to JACK'S ROOM-- NIGHT when Jack is emotionally distressed:

Jack writhes on the bed-- having a nightmare. Dean moves for him-- touching his arm--

///

And in 14x07 Unhuman Nature, he's coming to the infirmary to make sure Jack has nourishment:

DEAN: "Brought you some carbs. How you (doin')?"

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In 14x03 The Scar, we get Cas coming to JACK'S ROOM-- NIGHT to praise him for his persistence on a case:

CAS: "I'll make you some soup."

///

When Jack is dying in 14x08 Byzantium, we see a record player and vinyl in his room, implying that not only do Dean and Jack listen to music together (per 14x16 Don't Go into the Woods), but they may hang out and listen to music in Jack's room.

///

In 14x15 Peace of Mind, Cas again comes to counsel Jack -> JACK'S ROOM-- DAY

"Cas knows this "check in" is the last thing the boy wants."

///

BONUS: Dean and Cas are ALSO associated to docks, water, and fishing throughout the series as early as season 4, and that also gets transferred to Jack in two specific script instances:

The first is in 13x14 Good Intentions when AU Zacharaiah gives Jack a vision of Cas and Jack fishing (this originally was an extended scene that occurs post-Zachariah's vision of burning the human side of Jack's family):

///

And ofc there's the heartwarming fishing scene that actually occurs in 14x07 Unhuman Nature, with Jack and Dean:

It's just interesting how visually Dean and Cas are portrayed characteristically differently, with regards to Jack. You know?