#Zephyr may be new in the fighting business but he can take it.

[hopehjort]

30something ex-elite force training a 23 y/o rookie who's abilities came in just a few months ago.

or ✨superhero training✨

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Out Of Time ~ 118

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,010ish

Summary: Y/N goes on the run.

Y/N appeared in the Zephyr. Immediately on the look out for Coulson. She turned the corner, running into another agent.

“I’m so sorry,” the agents apologized, stepping back. “Are you— you’re Agent Rogers. You’re awake.”

“Um… yeah. Have you seen Coulson?”

“Him and Mack are on the ground, doing some work.”

“Oh, okay. I just wanted to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye? Why would you—“

“Come in, Zephyr One. Come in,” Director Mace called over the comms in the front control panel.

The agent rushed over. “This is Zephyr One.”

“Agent Y/N Rogers is missing. If you find her, take her into immediate custody.” The agent looked Y/N’s way.

“Please,” she whispered, “don’t… I don’t want to force you to not. Just… don’t.”

“We haven’t seen her, sir,” the agent replied to the Director. “We’ll let you know if there’s a sighting.” The agent hung up and walked towards Y/N. “I know that you don’t deserve to be in custody.”

“Thank you, Agent…”

“Johnson.” He held out his hand. “Agent Johnson.”

“Thank you Agent Johnson. Tell Coulson that I tried to say goodbye, will ya? And that I’ll reach out if I need anything.”

“Of course. Stay safe, Agent Rogers.”

Y/N nodded before stepping through a portal. Looking around, she took in her surroundings. It was a cold December evening in London, where she had placed herself. It was time for her to work on gathering her strength for the inevitable fight and for her to figure out how to tap into the Soul Stone. Y/N also knew she needed to stay on the run, the government was going to be non-stop after her, world wide. She couldn’t afford to stay in one place too long.

Y/N found a small shop where she bought a backpack and some essentials she would need for the run. She bought a train ticket to Amsterdam and immediately headed there. In her private room on the train, the news was on. She was ignoring it, simply taking in everything going past the window, until something caught her attention.

“It has been almost two months since Tony Stark announced that he was selling Avengers Tower in New York,” the news reporter stated. “So far, he’s had many bids, but has not officially closed on anything. Rumors have it is that he’s hiding rouge Avengers, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, and Wanda Maximoff in the Tower. Officials have denied it, but who can blame us for asking?”

“In other news about Tony Stark, his former girlfriend has officially been announced as a wanted fugitive of the United States government. Nothing has been heard about Avenger Y/N Rogers since the Sokovia Accords were put in place, until now. That has people wondering if Stark had been hiding her until she couldn’t take being cooped up anymore and decided to join her brother and former lover, Bucky Barnes aka the Winter Soldier, on the run.”

“Again, most of this has not been confirmed. But one can only assume that—“

Y/N turned off the tv, unable to hear anymore. No one truly understood what had happened, nor did they really try to. With a sigh, she laid down and fell asleep.

She lived like this for the past two and a half months, constantly on the move, barely making time to even sight see. She had made her way across a majority of the Europe and Asia continents. It was lonely, but she knew it needed to be done. As much as she tried, Y/N was never able to connect with the Soul Stone. That didn’t mean she stopped trying though.

Currently, she had found her way to South Africa. She had been there longer than she had been anywhere else. Y/N was enjoying it there. She was walking the streets of a market, enjoying the smells and the food when she could sense someone following her. Turning around, trying to make it normal, she couldn’t see anyone obviously following her. Pursing her lips she turned around and headed for an alley way outside of the market. Y/N wasn’t afraid to take on whoever was following her. She was honestly a little curious as to who had tracked her down.

Turning into the alley way, she was thankful that it was empty. She didn’t need any civilians in the way. Facing away from the entry, she heard someone jump down from the building onto the ground. Using her powers, she jumped into the person’s mind, forcing them to freeze. Y/N turned around to see a person in a black suit, more specifically, a blank panther suit.

“T’Challa?” Y/N questioned. They had never really formally met, but she knew who the new King was.

“Y/N,” he greeted through the mask. “Mind letting me go?”

“Not until you tell me why you’re here? Why are you following me?”

“I made a promise.”

“To the Accords you signed?”

“To your brother.”

Y/N let her hold go. She took a step forward as T’Challa let his mask down.

“Steve. Do you know where he is?”

“I do not. But I promised that I would look for you and keep you safe. You haven’t been all that sneaky since you arrived in Africa.”

“I knew I was over staying my welcome. Thank you, T’Challa, for looking out for me. But I think I’m doing okay.”

“And I think you need to rest. Wakanda is a safe place, no one will turn you in. You can stay as long as you want.”

“I don’t know.” Y/N shook her head. “I don’t think I want to risk it.”

“I understand but, Y/N, have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? You don’t look like you’ve been taking very good care of yourself.”

“Well, not every place I find to stay at is a five star hotel.”

“You do not need to stay very long. Just get some rest and then you can be on your way.”

“T’Challa… I don’t—“

“Don’t make it seem like I’m breaking the promise I made to your brother.”

“You’re good.” She smirked, waving her finger at him. “Fine. Let’s go.”

~~~

Wakanda was more amazing than Y/N had ever imagined. She had heard that T’Challa had opened it up to the world saying that they had the technology and resources to help many. But she had struggled to believe that until Y/N saw it with her own eyes. T’Challa introduced her to the Dora Milaje, the King’s guard, and their head Okoye. Y/N was extremely impressed that the King’s guard were all women. 

Next, she was given a tour of the labs, where she met Princess Shuri and the Queen Mother Ramonda. They were both so kind and welcoming, offering to get Y/N anything she needed. T’Challa then showed her to a room.

“This room will be yours for how ever long you need,” T’Challa stated as Y/N walked around. “I will have your meals for today brought to you, so that you can get some rest. Feel free to safely explore the kingdom. You are safe here.”

That last sentence made Y/N tear up. She hadn’t felt safe is so long. “Thank you, T’Challa, for all of this.”

“Of course. Please let me know if you need anything.”

He gave a kind smile before shutting the door and heading down the hallway. Shuri was at the end to meet him.

“So…” she started, “does she know?”

“I do not believe so,” T’Challa replied, keeping his pace.

“Are you planning on telling her?”

“Not unless it comes up. She needs to be able to rest, not worry about anything else.”

“Well, do you plan on telling him that she’s here? Or the Captain?”

“For now, I do not. The Captain has enough on his plate and you continue must to work with the White Wolf and try to get him better. Do not say anything just yet. We do not know how long she plans on staying.”

“She may stay longer if she knew about him.”

“We do not know that and I do not want to test that.”

~~~

Y/N let herself enjoy a delicious meal before falling asleep. When she woke, it was night and she was now wide awake. Taking T’Challa up on his offer to explore the kingdom, Y/N changed into something warm at set out to find a way out of the palace. She was honestly grateful that it was dark and that hardly anyone was out, it let her wander without the fear of prying eyes. 

As she wandered through the fields, Y/N tried to connect with the Soul Stone. It was frustrated her to no end that she couldn’t find away to tap into those powers. She wanted to feel and interact with the souls she had lost, hoping that it might calm her guilty heart. Y/N had tried to get in contact with the Ancient One, but to avail. It was becoming clearer and clearer that the Ancient One had been right, it was up to Y/N and Y/N alone to figure out the Soul Stone.

Too deep in her mind, Y/N hadn’t realized how far away from the palace and main city she had wandered. But someone else had. He kept his distance and kept quiet, fearing that what he was seeing was an illusion. It wasn’t the first time it had happened, but this was a little too real. He was too busy staring at her to notice the branch his was about to step on.

SNAP!

Both he and Y/N froze. Their hearts started beating faster. His because he was scared that she would disappear and hers because she had just come to the realization that she was being followed. Completely on guard now, Y/N slowly turned around.

“Who’s there?” She called out. 

When she was fully turned around, she saw no one. But that was because he had laid down in the tall grass, trying to stay out of sight. Y/N could sense the person’s presence. She took a few, careful steps forward towards the person.

“I know you’re there,” she said. “No point in hiding. Just show your face and I can promise you I won’t hurt you.”

He sighed, which Y/N heard. Y/N waited with bated breath for the person following her to show their face. The grass several feet away rustled as the person pushed themselves up from the ground to stood. Y/N inhaled sharply at the silhouette in front of her. The man was bulky, clearly long hair and was missing one arm.

“Bucky?” Y/N breathed out.

“Hello, Y/N.” He responded, clearly nervous. “How are you?”

“I—I—I didn’t know… they didn’t tell me…”

“T’Challa probably didn’t tell you on purpose. How long have you been in Wakanda?”

“Not even a day.”

The two couldn’t move. Too scared to get closer to each other.

“How long have you been here?” Y/N asked.

“Since Siberia,” he answered. “T’Challa was there as well, he brought Steve and I here for safety.”

“Is… Is Steve here then?”

“No. He left after I was put back in cryo.”

“They put you back in cryo?”

“Until Shuri could find away to take HYDRA out of my head.”

“Did they…? Did they help you?”

“For the most part… we’re still working on it.”

They stared at each other, quietly, for a few long minutes.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N said, shaking her head. “I’ve got to go.”

“Please don’t.” Bucky reached out, taking a brave step forward. “At least, don’t leave Wakanda just yet. I want to… I want to see you again.”

“I… I won’t… I just… I just need to think.”

“Of course.”

Y/N opened a portal beside her, unable to take her eyes off Bucky. “Goodnight… Bucky.” She stepped through the portal, disappearing into her room.

“Goodnight, doll.”

next chapter >

NOTES: from now on the taglist when be added by a reblog. I will reblog it using my second account, @just-dreaming-marvel-2​​. Just so that my main page doesn’t get too cluttered.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

[allegra-writes]

“Fine line” Part II

Peter Parker x Reader x Harry Osborn

NSFW

Warnings: Smut, threesome.

SERIES MASTERLIST | MY MASTERLIST

You couldn't help the hiss that escaped your lips as Peter gently padded the cut on your shoulder with gauze.

"Sorry" He flinched, "I'm being as soft as I can…"

"I know, Pete, it's ok" You reassured him.

He sighed,

"No, it's not. I'm good at this, god knows I've had practice, but I'm not a doctor…" nonetheless, he grabbed the needle and medical thread, "You should have let Simmons take a look at you"

"She was rather busy"

"I know" Peter was well aware of the carnage, the attack on the city had been vicious. S.H.I.E.L.D Tower now laid in ruins, hundreds of agents hurt or even…

"Your sister is going to be ok" He reassured you. Again. You nodded, swallowing through the knot on your throat. Peter finished his work, placing the softest, most careful of kisses right under the injury. He knew how scared, how worried you were. He knew that was the reason you didn't let doctor Simmons take care of you, cause you didn't want to distract her from tending to Daisy.

"I mean it" He insisted, "She's strong, just like you"

"Yeah, I know" You sighed, "I just wish we were smarter"

You had been naive, the both of you, in believing you had seen the last of the Goblin for the night, not realizing the whole incident with Harry had been just a distraction.

But the Goblin had miscalculated too, he hadn't counted on your whole former team being in the city to meet your boyfriend. All of S.H.I.E.L.D'S best and brightest in the same place, at the same time.

That mistake had ultimately cost him his life.

"What happened to Norman?" You hadn't stuck around for the clean up, too occupied taking an unconscious Daisy, and other badly hurt agents, into the med bay of the Zephyr to get treated. "To the body, I mean"

Peter avoided your eyes, instead choosing to keep wrapping a bandage around your shoulder.

"Peter?"

"I took him back home" He finally blurted out, still not meeting your gaze, "His home, I mean. I know Fury probably wanted to study him or something but I just… Harry, I couldn't- his father, disappearing just like that? Harry deserves to know, he deserves to know his father is not coming back. O-or if S.H.I.E.L.D didn't take the body... I couldn't let Harry find him like that, all broken and bloody on the street. I just-... I just couldn't…"

It clicked then, watching your boyfriend's tear streaked face. All the late night phone calls, talking till sunrise, all the times his patrols around the city had taken him to Oscorp, his diving head first tonight to save Harry, suddenly it all made sense.

"You're in love with him"

"So are you" It wasn't an accusation, just the statement of a fact. You weren't really surprised he had realized, not when he could hear your heartbeat quicken whenever Harry showed up in the news.

The silence fell between you like ghost, a heavy presence, invisible but suffocating, for several moments, until Peter gathered enough courage to break it,

"I still love you, Six. This doesn't change that"

"I know," you sighed, "I still love you too"

"What are we going to do now?" He looked about as lost as you felt.

"I don't know, Peter…"

"I- I don't want to lose you" He choked out a sob.

"You won't" You stood, pulling him in, wrapping your arms around him. He held onto you hard, almost so hard it hurt, but you couldn't let go. You wouldn't. "You won't lose me, Peter, ever. Not for this, not for anything"

He leaned back just enough to crush his lips to yours, pouring all his desperation, all his fear and guilt into a bittersweet kiss. His arms wound even tighter around you in an iron grip, afraid if he let go for just a second, you would disappear from his side.

"Don't leave me… please don't leave me" He didn't realize the words were escaping his mouth between kisses until your answer reached his ears, soothing like a balm:

"I won't. I'm never leaving you"

The ground was swept from under your feet, as Peter picked you up, bridal style. He needed you, his sunshine, his anchor to-

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Peter" Karen's voice resonated through the apartment, "But Harry Osborn is in the lobby, asking for you"

You both froze. It wasn't completely unexpected, you knew how brilliant the blonde heir was under that frivolous bad boy façade, but Peter seemed to be taken by surprise. He searched your eyes, silently begging for guidance, but deep down, he knew what the right thing to do was, the only possible course of action.

"Send him up" He ordered Karen, gently setting you down on your feet again.

"Of course, Peter" The AI replied, with what Peter could have sworn was approval, if that was even possible.

You found a silk robe to put on over your flimsy summer pajamas, covering your body not out of modesty, but to somewhat conceal the bandages and bruises littering your skin. Peter smiled, it was just like you to hide your vulnerabilities, especially if you were expecting a confrontation. He took your hand, and you stepped out of the bedroom together. Come what may, you knew you could face it, as long as you had each other.

"Harry!" The gasp left Peter's throat unbidden, as soon as his eyes fell on his friend. It was a pitiful sight, the blonde still wearing the same clothes from last night, rumpled and dirty, the stench of alcohol coming out of his pores, so strong even you without your super senses could smell it from the other side of the room. He rushed to him, couldn't help it, but Harry's words stopped him dead in his tracks, in the middle of the living room.

"It was you wasn't it? You killed my father. I broke into his lab, read his files… he was the Goblin. Did you know?"

"Harry-"

"DID YOU KNOW IT?!"

Peter hesitated, but in the end he answered honestly.

"Yes"

"And you still killed him… you knew he was my father, and you still killed him!"

You took a step forward, subtly placing yourself between them; you knew your boyfriend would not defend himself if Harry was to lash out, probably believing he deserved it.

"No, Harry. I did." Peter might have knocked the monster out, but the coup de grâce had been all you. You could try to defend yourself, to make excuses, say you were following orders, that he was too dangerous to live. But the truth was, when you had seen Daisy go down, bleeding, her body shattered, limbs bent in strange, wrong angles, you had seen red. You would have done the exact same thing, even without director Fury's voice in your ear.

"The Goblin almost killed her sister" Peter intertwined his fingers with yours. Of course he would advocate for you even if he wouldn't for himself, "and he also... hurt Kate" Understatement of the fucking century, but at least her injuries weren't life threatening.

Harry crumbled in front of your eyes, all the fight leaving him at once.

"He tried to kill me too" His own dad, the one person in the world who was supposed to love him unconditionally, had tried to murder him. Without flinching, without hesitating, all to mess with Spider-Man's head. Had Peter made a different call, go for you instead of him...

"The serum that transformed him affected his mind, Harry" You pointed out, consoling, "We don't know how much of your father was left inside the Goblin"

Harry scoffed, it would have been easier to believe your words if it had been the first time. But he could still remember, if only barely, the cold water of the pool in winter, lungs burning with lack of oxygen, his small legs kicking desperately, uselessly, and his father's blue eyes, colder than the water, watching him from above, doing nothing. Until the gardener had saved him

No, Norman Osborn had been a monster long before becoming the Goblin.

And what did that make Harry, then? Why had he come looking for Peter and you? At first he had thought he wanted blood, but now, having the both of you in front of him, he wasn't so sure.

Without your battle uniforms, you didn't look like the super human, terrifying villains his alcohol ridden brain had built you up to be. Standing there, bare feet in your sleeping clothes you were frail, vulnerable. Red eyed and bruised, you looked almost as bone weary and exhausted as he felt.

He couldn't do it.

"Did you mean it?" He managed to get out through the sobs shaking his frame, "What you said back on top of that building? Tha-that it's the choices we make and… and not what we are… th-that define us?"

Peter sidestepped you, advancing towards Harry.

"Every word" Slowly, ever so slowly, like approaching a wild animal he didn't want to spook, he reached out, "Give me the gun, Harry"

Harry's eyes went wide, but he complied, untucking the small 9 mm from the back of his waistband. He handed it over to Peter, who in turn offered it to you. Quick as lightning, you released the latch, unloading it and tossing it on the coffee table.

"I'm sorry" Harry croaked between tears, "I'm so sorry"

He hadn't noticed how cold he was, until Peter enveloped him in his warm embrace.

"It's ok, Haz" You heard him whisper, "It's going to be ok. We got you now…"

"Make it stop" Harry's cries were muffled against your boyfriend's shoulder, but you still could feel the pain in his voice, loud and clear. It hurt like a physical blow to your chest, knocking the air out of you. You had tried, you really had, but apparently your feelings for the blue eyed boy weren't as under control as you had thought "Please… make it stop"

He wasn't even conscious of the words leaving his mouth, as he begged to a god he didn't believe in, to whoever might be listening, for something to numb the pain. To feel anything else than that soul crushing agony consuming him.

Peter's eyes found yours, a silent request for permission. You didn't know what was in his mind, but you trusted him, with more than your life: You trusted him with your heart.

You nodded. It was all Peter needed. He cupped Harry's face with his hands, and kissed him.

It was surreal. Suddenly, you were witnessing your boyfriend passionately making out with the man that had been haunting your dreams for months, and you should have felt jealousy or betrayal, but the truth was, those were the furthest things from your mind. Because Harry seemed to be finally kissing back, fingers tangling in Peter's curls, still wet from your shared shower, tugging just enough for the brunet to let out the most delicious little whimper and fuck, but that had to be the hottest thing you had ever seen in your life.

And Peter had probably felt the change in you, the rising in your temperature, the beating of your heart, cause he reached for your hand without even looking, pulling you closer, guiding the blond man towards your lips. His once familiar mouth quickly reacquainted itself with yours, tongue exploring, teeth nibbling softly. The shock sent shivers down your spine, as Peter's hands opened your robe, sliding the cool silk down your arms. His lips on your neck had your head spinning, and you had to hold onto Harry's strong shoulders to stop yourself from falling.

"Hello" He breathed out as you broke the kiss, cursing your need for oxygen.

"Hi" You smiled, "It's been too long"

"Far too long" Harry agreed, the beautiful ocean of his eyes, dark and turbulent with lust.

Peter didn't stay idle for long, agile fingers working open Harry's shirt, stepping closer, pushing your body further into Harry's space. It wasn't long till you found yourself trapped between two naked, equally stunning torsos, pushing and pulling, as Peter's and Harry's lips collided again over your shoulder.

You felt your boyfriend's hand slip inside your sleeping shorts, teasing you over your panties.

"Peter" You reached back, arm hooked on the back of his neck for purchase, as he tugged your underwear to the side, and buried two fingers inside your tight heat.

"Fuck!"

Startled, you opened the eyes you hadn't even realized you had closed. You were ashamed to admit you had pretty much forgotten the other man's presence, Peter was just that good, knew your body that well, but Harry was still standing in front of you, eyes fixed on the erotic way Peter's hand was moving inside your shorts. His other hand lowered the straps of your camisole one by one, baring your chest to Harry's wonderstruck stare.

The moan that escaped your lips as Peter started expertly massaging your breast finally pulled the golden haired man out of his trance,

"Can I…"

"Touch her?" Peter finished for him, placing a sweet kiss on your temple, as your head rolled back, coming to rest on his chest, "I don't know, buddy. You'll have to ask her"

You heard Harry's voice, but it was hard to concentrate with Peter's fingers penetrating you over and over again, grazing that perfect spot inside you every time. Peter chuckled a little smugly,

"Baby girl, is it ok if Harry touches you?"

"Yes!" You panted, at last "Yes, please, Harry… touch me"

He did more than that, lips closing around the nipple not currently between Peter's fingers, hands roving all around your body, tearing and ripping at clothes with Peter's help, until you were completely naked, and completely at their mercy.

Your boyfriend laid you down on the massive chaise lounge that dominated the living room, yellow, like almost everything else on your apartment, he wanted everything to remind him of his sunflower when you weren't there. He positioned you so your legs would hang out the border, guiding Harry to kneel between them.

"Bossy, aren't you?" The blond quipped, playfully.

"Oh, you have no idea" Peter smirked from behind his back, turning his head to capture his lips again in the filthiest of kisses. You watched Peter's hands trail down Harry's chest, lower down his abs and further south stil, undoing his button and his fly, disappearing inside his pants.

Your breath catched at the same time as his, when Peter's hand closed around his member, slowly pumping up and down, up and down, the same hypnotic, insanity inducing rhythm you had taught him a lifetime ago on a tropical island.

Harry's head fell forward, eyes closed in bliss, but that was when Peter saw you.

"Naughty girl," He murmured, eyes zeroing in the way your index finger was rubbing circles on your clit, "you know I hate it when you do that…"

Your smirk was defiant,

"What are you going to do about it?" You let your other hand travel over your skin, caressing softly, teasing yourself as much as teasing him "You have your hands full"

"I'll take care of her" Haz was looking at you longingly, "Please, Peter… let me take care of her…"

"Hmmm… only because you ask so nicely" Peter's words were a little slurred, and you knew he was drunk with the power. Having both you and Harry to dominate, to do as he said was making him dizzy, almost overwhelmed.

But for once, having his senses dialed up to eleven wasn't painful, no. He was in heaven.

"Put your mouth on her, Haz… she's fucking delicious, tastes just like strawberries…"

Harry bent over, licking his lips, eyes fixed on yours. The movement pressed his ass against Peter's hard on, making him hiss.

"Can I-"

"Yes, please"

Your boyfriend tugged both Harry's pants and boxers down. You couldn’t see exactly what he was doing, but Harry’s handsome face, contorting in pleasure, gave you a pretty good idea.

"Oh, god, Harry!" You gasped as his tongue, at last, made contact with your flesh.

He hummed as if in agreement, flattening his tongue over your slit before using the tip to tap your pearl. Your hand flew to his head, finding purchase in his golden curls as he licked into you eagerly, rocking his whole face against you.

He was nothing like Peter. This was messy, obscene, it lacked Peter's finesse and precision, but fuck it was good.

You could feel the coil tighten inside you, already so close to the brink from Peter's hand, but just as it was about to snap, Harry's lips left you.

"Oh, fuck!" His curse was muffled against your thigh. You could see your boyfriend's curls over the curve of Harry's back and you could only guess what his wicked tongue was doing to the boy between your legs.

"Oh yeah, he's quite talented at that isn't he?" You giggled despite your frustration

"So good" Harry moaned, "So so good…"

Peter came into view then, placing kisses along Harry's spine.

"If you want my mouth on you" He whispered in his ear, loud enough for you to hear, "keep yours on her"

Harry nodded, enthusiastically.

"And make sure she comes," He went on, "that's the only rule: Our girl gets to come… Over, and over," He punctuated every word with a kiss down Harry's back again, "and over, and over…"

The most wanton of noises left Harry and you knew conversation time was over as he dove right back in, separating your lips with his fingers, thrusting his tongue inside you as deep as it would go. Your back arched off the chaise, crying out loud when Harry decided to add a finger, and then another one, as his lips closed around your clit, sucking a little too hard.

It was too much.

"Haz… fuck, ah!... Slow down, baby"

"Keep going, Harry" Peter's tone was stern, as he watched you writhe in pleasure. He was on his knees again, coating two of his fingers with lube. When had he gone and fetch it, you had no idea. "Make her come… god you have to see her, she is so gorgeous when she comes…"

And it wasn't going to take long, with the way Harry's tongue was circling your clit and the vibrations from his own moans and sweet little whines, you could feel yourself right at that edge, all you needed was something to tip you over.

Harry's hand made its way to your chest, finding your breast and massaging just the way you liked it, the way you had done earlier. He was a fast learner. But you didn't have much time to marvel about that, cause you were finally falling, every nerve of your body going up in sparks, your cries of ecstasy intermingling with his, as Peter finally, finally entered him, torturously slow, making him feel every lavish inch.

The stronger boy's measured but powerful thrusts pushed Harry's body forwards. He wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his face on your stomach, mouth slack against your skin, muffling his sounds.

"Careful there," Peter warned, slowing down his movements almost to a stop, "She's hurt"

Harry opened his eyes, and they came to rest on your bruised ribs. You could see the thoughts behind his icy blues crystal clear, the misplaced guilt twisting a knot in his entrails: His father had done that to you. But you refused to let those heavy feelings invade your bubble of solace, refused to let his father ruin this for him too. Squaring your jaw, you looked up at Peter,

"What are you waiting for, Tiger?" Your boyfriend's eyes went wide at your commanding tone, "Fuck him like you mean it"

Peter gulped, goosebumps erupting on his skin. Oh yeah, he might be a big boy now, but your dominant voice could still make him weak. He wondered absently if it was simply you, and everything you did, that turned him to putty in your hands.

"Yes, ma'am" He grabbed onto Harry's hips, picking up his rhythm.

"Oh god!" Harry sobbed into your skin. You ran your hand through his curls, caressing soothingly.

"He feels good, doesn't he? So hard and big…"

"So big…" The blonde agreed, "so deep…"

"How does Harry feel, Peter?"

Your boyfriend was biting his lip, looking down, fixated on the place he was disappearing inside Harry.

"So good, so fucking tight…"

You sighed, yearningly. They were breathtakingly, heartbreakingly beautiful. All lean and strong muscles, locking and releasing, miles of soft creamy skin colliding on skin, tiny beads of sweat glistening in the soft morning light. It was fascinating, watching them move together, the dirty sounds leaving them more than enough to make you wet and ready again.

But before you could say something, you felt Harry's turquoise stare on you.

"Six… I need you, please" He pleaded, small and shy, as if afraid you would say no. You looked at Peter for reassurance, but he was already bending over, reaching for Harry's cock and unrolling a condom around it, pushing him further up your body. The blond whined in complaint when the movement caused Peter to slip out of him.

"You liked that, didn't you?" Your boyfriend moved closer, kissing his shoulder, "Like me filling you up so good…"

Harry and you moaned in unison, making him chuckle.

"It's her turn now. She needs to be filled too. So go on, bury that gorgeous cock of yours between her legs" Peter encouraged, softly, his tone a stark contrast to the vulgarity of his words, "and I will fuck you so hard she will feel it"

Harry cursed, Peter’s dirty mouth was going to be the death of him, he just knew it.

No, he was already in heaven, he decided, as he braced himself on his forearms at each side of your head, taking his sweet time entering you. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about this, the truth was he had, a million times. In fact, every time he had taken a girl that looked just enough like you into his bed. But they were never quite right. Never had your perfume, or their hair was the wrong color, or their eyes were the wrong shade. Now it was really you, and never in his wildest dreams had he pictured it could be like this, your breathy moans underneath him, your heat embracing him so perfectly… As your boyfriend did obscene, immoral, delicious things to him from behind, driving him right to the brink of sanity.

And he didn't waste any time, thrusting hard and fast. Soon, Harry was a sobbing mess, trapped as every move to escape Peter’s cock drove him deeper into you, every motion backwards and away from you impaling him further on Peter’s cock. There wasn’t much he could do, but take whatever Peter gave him.

You clung onto his back, blunt fingernails digging into his skin,

“I'm going to come… Harry, I'm going to come on your cock”

Fuck, you were just as dirty as your boyfriend. And it was truth, he could feel it, feel your walls quivering around his dick, feel your body starting to shake with the force of your orgasm. Peter bended over, grabbing hold of his shoulders, changing the angle, hitting his prostate over and over, white hot pleasure exploding without warning. Harry drown his screams into your mouth, his climax almost painful in it’s intensity, his vision going black.

…

“…Alright, then what about the Academy of Science and Technology?”

You made a face,

“You need at least one PhD to get in…”

“I got a master’s in engineering, does that count?”

“You could get into the Academy of Communications with that” Peter interjected, lazily caressing your naked back. The three of you were in bed, a mess of legs and arms intertwined together, as the sun went down over the city outside.

“That’s the easiest of S.H.I.E.L.D’s academies to get into, right?” Harry mused. Freedom, what a strange thing it was: He had spent his whole life craving it, wishing to be able to do whatever he wanted, go wherever he wanted, be with whoever he really wanted, without fear of his father judgement, without fear of his wrath, and now that he finally could… It was slightly terrifying.

A part of him almost felt guilty, for being so eager to tear apart everything his father had worked so hard for years to turn him into. For allowing himself to feel something this good not even 24 hours after his death. But a touch of your hand, or a glimpse of warm brown eyes, and it all faded away. His second thoughts, his doubts, his responsabilities… In fact, everything outside that bed faded away until there was nothing more than the three of you, alone in the world, still tangled together just talking and touching and basking in the afterglow.

You nodded,

“Data specialists and field agents. But I seriously think you could get into Operations, if you really want to”

“I think she’s right. I'm getting into the Academy of Operations this fall, and” Peter decided, finding Harry’s hand under the sheets, interlocking their fingers together “I really would like you to be there with me”

Harry was speechless. He had wish, he had dreamed, but he hadn’t let himself hope. That this… whatever it was, wild, and exiting, and delicate and precious between the three of you was not a one time thing. He had tried to convince himself that he would be fine if it was, that he was going to treasure it anyway, be glad it happened, enjoy it while it lasted. Even if it killed him the next day.

It was a fine line between happiness and heartbreak, the one he had been walking with you today.

“I… Well, I mean” He stammered “I think I would love to. Go with you, I mean. If I can get in, that is”

Peter and you exchanged a look, one of those silent communication things you seemed to always have going on, and he felt the littlest pang of envy. He wanted to be privy to those conversations, like he wanted to be a part of yours and Peter’s world. He wanted to know what the Cavalry was and why Peter seemed to be so scared of it. He wanted to be able to keep up with yours and Peter stamina. He wanted to spend so much time with you that not knowing your name stopped bothering him, cause he literally knew everything else about you, like Peter did. He wanted to speak the same language you two seemed to share…

And maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t an impossible dream. Because suddenly he found himself with an armful if you, capturing his lips in a possessive kiss that spoke of something deeper than lust and passion, something permanent and meaningful and as inescapable as fate, ‘You are ours now, you belong to us. And we are never letting you go'

Yeah, outside of that bed, the world had shifted again, fallen apart and crumbled to pieces for Harry just like it had for Peter almost a year before. And once you left it, you were going to have to face the aftermath. Harry was going to have to deal with the press, and the fact that his father was a villain. Peter would have to deal with his aunt, and Pepper and to not only explain his sexuality wasn’t conventional, but his relationship now wasn’t either. And you would have to deal with S.H.I.E.L.D, and the rebuilt, and to explain Fury and May how you had ended up with no one, but two boyfriends that had once been your mission. And none of you had any idea how you were going to do that. Or how you were going to make this between the three of you work, because the world was cruel, and didn’t take kindly to things that were different. But you knew the alternative was to painful to even think about it.

Truth was, there was a lot the three of you didn’t know. But there, in each others arms, watching the NYC lights start to shine outside the massive window, you knew one thing: You were going to be alright.

THE END.

[carewyncromwell]

Hey guys! Many, many apologies for the delay in this two-part update to the POTC AU! I won’t bog down this with too many notes, as I know I left y’all on a cliffhanger last time, sooooo...

Previous part is here! Full tag is here! Rakepick’s hair here is modeled off the outline of a Lion’s Mane Jellyfish! Zephyr (or Zephyrus) was the name of the deity of the West Wind in Greek mythology, just as Calypso was a Greek nymph of the sea that first appeared in The Odyssey! And MCs referenced in this section are Jules Farrier-Weasley @cursebreakerfarrier; Finn McGarry/Davy Jones @theguythatdraws and Samantha O’Connell @samshogwarts!

x~x~x~x~x

It had started to rain. Aboard the Clearwater, the tide of battle had turned in the pirates’ favor. Even though Charlie was injured, he was able to rally the crew of the fallen Phoenix against the Navy, beating them back so they could take over the ship. Many Navy men were so afraid that they defied orders and fled to the jollyboats in an attempt to escape the pirates’ onslaught. Charlie was perfectly willing to let them go -- he consistently ordered his crew not to retaliate, if the soldiers surrendered or retreated. After all, the ship was all they wanted -- they didn’t necessarily need to kill, in order to get that.

Everything was going right when all of a sudden, one particularly brave Navy soldier with a blond ponytail -- upon surrendering -- abruptly changed his mind, unsheathed his sword, and charged at Charlie. Charlie was able to block him with his own dragon-hilted sword, but because he was too injured to properly stand, he was unable to dodge or step the way he normally could have, so he was immediately put on the defensive.

Charlie clenched his teeth, trying to power through the pain in his leg, and blocked all of the soldier’s next five blows. It wasn’t easy to try to sword fight while staying stationary -- the form almost required being able to weave around and lunge toward your opponent, if one wanted to win.

The blond soldier, clearly wet behind the ears but determined to win, took advantage of Charlie’s injury by kicking him right in his broken leg.

“ACK!”

Charlie collapsed onto the deck with a pained hiss.

Samantha, who’d been just tossed another soldier overboard on the other far end of the ship, heard Charlie fall and hurried to try to help, but she was too far away. Charlie just barely managed to keep a hold of his sword and was able to block the blond soldier’s next blow, but struggled to push the other blade back away from him.

“This ends now, pirate!” said the boyish soldier in a show of misguided conviction.

THUNK.

The soldier instantly froze up, his eyes going wide and his head falling forward in response to something having collided with the back of it. Then his eyes rolled up into his head and he collapsed.

Standing just overhead with his sword hilt where the blond soldier’s head just was a freckled young man dressed in a blue and white captain’s uniform and a damp white-powdered wig.

“Percy?” gasped Charlie.

The third-eldest Weasley was very pale as he stared from the hilt of his sword, which was smeared with some blood, to down at Charlie.

“...I reckon I may have hit him a bit too hard,” he said rather weakly.

Wiping the blood off on the inside of his coat, he then quickly sheathed his sword and hurried to grab onto Charlie and help him to his feet.

“Charlie, I’m -- I’m so sorry -- I never should’ve let you and Bill go without me -- I’ve been such a - ”

But Charlie didn’t need to hear any more. In an instant, he’d thrown his arms around his younger brother and squeezed him in a huge hug.

“It’s good to see you too, Perce,” he said lowly.

Percy’s eyes prickled with tears as he squeezed his brother in return.

“Charlie, I think Carey’s in trouble,” he confessed.

Charlie pulled back enough to look Percy straight-on in the eye as Samantha reached them at last. “She is. Davy Jones plans to commandeer her into his crew.”

“What?!” Percy was scandalized.

“Bill and Jules are on the Revolution right now, with Carey’s brother -- ”

Charlie indicated the Revolution and Flying Dutchman, which were still hotly engaged in battle.

“The only way we can stop him from taking Carey and get close enough to capture Beckett,” the second-eldest Weasley explained, “is if we can take him out.”

“If we can capture Beckett, we’ll have enough leverage to force the Navy to surrender,” said Samantha. “We don’t have enough firepower to stop the fighting any other way.”

Percy’s brown eyes too faced the sea, instead flicking over to the HMS Lion. His eyes widened when he took in what he saw.

The jollyboats were being lowered...?

He darted over the railing, taking out a telescope to look out.

“Perce?” asked Charlie. With some help from Samantha, he joined his brother at the railing.

“They’re evacuating,” said Percy, dumbstruck. “Everyone’s heading for the HMS Swallow.”

Charlie’s eyebrows knit together. “What?”

“But why?” said Samantha. “If they wanted to retreat, couldn’t they use their flagship to do it?”

Percy shook his head. “Not if the flagship was going to be used to signal the rest of the Navy...”

He combed the jollyboats with his eyes through his telescope. He saw Beckett lingering on the deck of the ship overlooking the jollyboats, but there were no familiar manes of ginger red hair.

Percy gave a start. Suddenly Carewyn’s words from before made sense.

“Don’t try to protect me or my reputation -- those things won’t matter much longer anyway...”

“...Carey,” breathed Percy. “Carey’s leading the retreat. She must’ve openly rebelled against Beckett’s orders -- ”

Charlie’s face went a lot paler. He understood the gravity of what that meant -- after everything she’d done to stay with the Navy, Carewyn had thrown away her safe position with Beckett at a chance to stop the fighting...meaning that she now also effectively opened herself to being tarred with treason.

Percy lowered his telescope, his jaw clenching anxiously as he looked out at the Revolution and the Flying Dutchman. The water under the two warring ships was burbling and swirling ominously.

The ginger-haired Navy captain bowed his head, looking very solemn.

“There’s no way that Beckett will let her get away with that,” he murmured. “He’ll do anything he has to, in order to destroy all of you. If we give him the chance to contradict Carey’s orders to the ships out here and rally the HMS Swallow and the rest of the fleet in a counterattack, then it’s all over.”

His brown eyes narrowed as he looked from Samantha to Charlie.

“If you need Jones out of the way in order to get at Beckett,” he said firmly, “then we’re taking the Clearwater straight to the Flying Dutchman.”

Underneath the Flying Dutchman and the Revenge swirled a terrible, turbulent current -- one that bent back in on itself in a demented, sickening spiral. It soon ensnared both ships in a slowly circling, deepening, descending whirlpool, illuminated largely by the cracks of violent white lightning that crashed through the sky.

Calypso was clearly not pleased about the Dutchman’s new captain.

Meanwhile, on the HMS Lion, Beckett had Orion and Carewyn cornered in the hull of the Navy ship, standing in front of the one and only staircase they could’ve used to quickly escape.

“I didn’t think I could dislike you any more, Admiral,” said Beckett with a icy cold smile as he quickly reloaded his pistol to shoot again, “but for the second time today, you’ve served to only give me more reason.”

His eyes flickered over to Orion, darkening with even further hatred, as he raised his pistol again.

“Don’t do it, Beckett,” Orion said, his voice very low in his throat with both solemnity and disapproval. “Destroying us would only destroy yourself -- ”

“You may skip the philosophy lecture, Amari,” said Beckett, pointing the pistol right at his head.

His eyes swept over the scene, analyzing it.

“If you’re here...I daresay you’ve sabotaged this ship -- just like you did my fleet of slave ships, several years back. Given your tenseness about me using my pistol, I can only fathom it’s something explosive -- I’d most assuredly have to get back in the jollyboat quickly, to escape that. And since the Admiral and you are in league with each other, it’s only logical to presume that she sent my crew away because she knew of it and didn’t want any harm to come to them. Your nobility truly is unparalleled, Carewyn Weasley. It’s just a shame you place men at such a higher value than property -- or your own self-preservation.”

His eyes flashed at Carewyn, looking if possible even colder than before as he took a few steps backward up the stairs.

“Truly, this is nothing personal,” he said in a very unconvincing voice. “Making sure that both of you can’t get in my way again...is just good business.”

His pistol, which had been pointing at Orion’s head, abruptly changed aim toward the barrels behind him. Carewyn lunged forward, but her lack of height made it so her strides were too short to reach Beckett fast enough, and since Orion was so focused on dodging, he wasn’t able to shift gears to follow Carewyn’s lead in time.

BAM.

The Clearwater had just come up on the Flying Dutchman inside the swirling maelstrom when the ship’s crew’s attention was drawn to the huge, flaming explosion that within minutes overtook and consumed the HMS Lion.

The sight alarmed Percy and Charlie, who were both convinced Carewyn was still on-board. Charlie, refusing to believe that Carewyn was dead, nonetheless harried Percy into action. They had to defeat Jones and capture Beckett to stop the battle -- it was the only chance they had at getting to Carewyn, since the maelstrom’s current was now way too strong for them to pull out of.

“Calypso wouldn’t drown you, though, would she?” asked Samantha loudly over the pouring rain. “You two get on, don’t you?”

“She was my friend when she was human, yeah,” granted Charlie with a weak smile, holding onto the railing so as to keep himself upright on his broken leg, “but remember, she sees things as a goddess now! Her anger’s clearly on the Dutchman and the Revolution -- I’m probably the size of an ant right now compared to her, I can’t assume she’ll be able to pick me out in this whole mess!”

He shook out his tricorn hat, which had gathered a puddle of water on the brim, and then slapped it back onto his head.

“I reckon the best way to save ourselves and the Revolution is to help deal with what’s gotten her so pissed off! Ready the lines -- prepare to board the Dutchman!”

At the exact same time, as either luck or fate would have it, the pirate called “Behemoth Ben” Copper had been trying to convince the soldiers aboard one of the other Man O’Wars, the HMS Royal, that he’d been sent with orders from Lord Beckett that they were to evacuate to the HMS Swallow, as the HMS Lion’s crew had. When the Lion blew up, Ben, in a rather brilliant move, took advantage of the flaming wreck to bolster his ruse.

“You see?”the tall blue-and-white-disguised pirate shot at them harshly over the pouring rain. “The Lion was compromised! That must’ve been why it was evacuated! And that’s why we’re being ordered to evacuate now as well -- the Lion is not the only one! Now stop stalling, or you’ll lose a lot more than just your rank! Abandon ship! To the HMS Swallow! NOW!”

Once the Navy officers had left in the jollyboats, Ben and the rest of the ex-Navy pirates easily commandeered the HMS Royal, following along behind the Artemis as the smaller white sloop headed for the remains of the Lion. McNully had not seen either his Captain or the Admiral escape the wreckage -- Ben prayed with everything in him that they somehow had.

When Percy left the wounded Charlie and Samantha in charge of the Clearwater and swung over to the Dutchman, he found Bill and Jacob hotly engaged in battle with Patricia Rakepick. The pirate-turned-privateer did not look like herself at all -- there was no light in her dark blue eyes and her long ginger hair flowed loose around her, the strands flicking at the air like tiny tentacles that seemed to crackle with unnatural electricity. Her blouse also gaped open at the chest, exposing a long-sealed up scar right over her rip cage, and she bore down on Bill and Jacob with ferocity, slashing at them with the intent to kill. Percy immediately yanked out his own sword and blocked Rakepick before she could land a blow on Bill, his brown eyes flaring and his teeth bared in an oddly fierce expression.

“Stay away from my brother,” snarled the Navy captain.

Bill’s face lit up in shock and delight. “Percy?”

Rakepick, however, didn’t give the two any time for a proper reunion -- instead she immediately engaged Percy, beating him back with her sword while also holding off Jacob, who continued to cut at her with his own blade.

“This sibling is not the one you should be protecting, boy,” said Rakepick very coldly.

Once she’d successfully fended off Percy and Jacob for the moment, she went after Bill again, hacking in the direction of his head with her sword.

Percy was about to chase Rakepick, but just before he did, another voice called his name over the rain.

“Percy Weasley!”

Percy turned, to see an unusually striking, clean-shaven and well-dressed pirate with brown eyes and a brown ponytail fending off about three different fishy members of the Dutchman’s crew. When their eyes met over one of the cursed pirates’ shark-shaped head, Percy felt like the clean-shaven man was somehow able to see right through him, and yet it was an oddly relaxing feeling, rather than anything intrusive. The man’s eyes narrowed upon Percy, as if he’d determined something important just by looking at his face.

“You’re needed here!” Ashe said firmly. “Come here, now!”

Percy wasn’t sure why he followed that direction, but he nonetheless dashed over and helped Ashe beat back Jones’s old crew members. Once he’d reached that side of the deck, he found Jules knelt down on the deck behind Ashe, holding a very familiar wrought-iron Chest with a heart-shaped lock in her lap and a make-shift lock-pick in one hand.

“Percy!” breathed Jules.

Percy immediately bent down beside her, his freckled face very pale. “Charlie and I came to help -- Jules, I’m s -- ”

“It’s all right,” said Jules very quickly, almost dismissively. “Percy, we have to get the Dead Man’s Chest open -- Rakepick’s heart is inside, it may be the only way to stop her -- ”

“Rakepick’s?” said Percy with a start. “What happened to Jones?”

“He’s dead!” said Ashe very curtly, having to project his voice to be heard over the rain. “But now Rakepick’s got it in her head to tear down both our and your fleet, with the power she’s accrued! Worse still, that shark-headed feck threw the Key overboard, and there’s no way we’ll get it back in the middle of a raging storm! You know this Chest, don’t you?”

Percy had no idea how Ashe knew this, not knowing anything about the merfolk’s ability to sense the emotions, desires, and memories of humans, but the Navy Captain looked down at the Dead Man’s Chest with a rather surly expression.

“Yes -- Beckett asked Carey for help in opening it, since she’s great at picking locks! She and I were able to manage it after a while, once we’d tinkered with it enough...”

Percy reached up into his coat, tearing one of the ornamental buttons off and bending the hook into a long wire, like he’d seen Carewyn do once before when she didn’t have a lock-pick on hand.

“I think I remember how she did it -- Jules, help me!”

It seemed like the new captain of the damned was more focused on Bill than anything. Even though she obviously loathed Jacob and was clearly being given a run for her money by him despite her immortality, she still seemed to be actively trying to get around Jacob in an attempt to kill Bill.

Meanwhile, Cutler Beckett and the crew of the HMS Lion had just about reached the HMS Swallow in the jollyboats when all of a sudden, something massive lurched out of the raging waves. The crashing of the dark waves that slammed the jollyboats aside was so violent and large that the ocean seemed to roar almost as loudly as the monstrous mass that had emerged from its depths -- one so large that one could really only make out tentacles and a black-hole-like mouth framed with about a hundred rows of sharp teeth.

It was the Kraken -- brought back to life one final time by Calypso, to take its revenge.

Beckett very shakily clutched onto the overturned boat he’d been riding in a moment ago. His tricorn hat had fallen off and his powdered white wig was drenched, but he barely even seemed aware of it. “This -- this is impossible,” he breathed. He looked out at the other overturned jollyboats and the fleeing soldiers being yanked aboard the HMS Swallow and other ships a good ten miles away, with an endless, thousand-mile stare. His face was pallid and as blank as a doll’s as he very, very slowly turned his gaze up onto the wide-open jaws of the Kraken bearing down on him.

“Seems my little pet remembers you.” Beckett’s eyes widened. He whirled around at the sound of the familiar voice, but instead of being faced with the barnacle-encrusted, octopus-bearded Davy Jones, he was face-to-face with a very tall, translucent, glowing cloud of mist -- like a shadow, if it were made of light instead of darkness. Its form was nebulous enough that it couldn’t be considered solid, but one could still barely make out the face of a pirate with a slash-like scar over his eye and a cold smile framed by a beard. It hovered leisurely over the ocean waves, occasionally slipping in and out of the blackened water with ease. “He’s come back one last time just for you, Beckett,” said Finn McGarry’s spirit, his eyes flashing with satisfaction. “You should be flattered.” Beckett’s mouth hung open slightly like a fish. He seemed unable to speak as he looked from Finn to up at the Kraken’s open jaws. “Wait -- you -- you can’t -- ” Finn began to laugh. It was a very loud, harsh sound. “Calypso has made my soul one with the air, Beckett,” he spat in intense satisfaction, “transforming me into Zephyr -- the West Wind over her raging sea. Neither you nor your precious stooge Rakepick hold any power over me now.” In an instant, the incorporeal white light that was Finn -- now the West Wind itself -- exploded, encompassing Beckett in a concentrated dome of swirling air. The head of the East India Trading Company tried to move, but Zephyr was so strong that he rivaled a hurricane and he held Beckett down in place against the overturned jollyboat with little effort, so he couldn’t even try to swim away. “And since you have nothing to offer me that I could possibly want -- money -- status...hell, my own life -- you can hardly expect me to have any reason to spare you,” Zephyr’s voice breathed cruelly. “‘It’s just good business.’” No one on the HMS Swallow, the HMS Royal, or any of the other neighboring Navy or pirate ships nearby, heard whether or not Beckett screamed before he died. The Kraken’s jaws and tentacles ensnaring the jollyboat and pulling it down into the depths in one gulp blocked out any possible sound he could’ve made.

[kingaofthewoods]

I'm trying to puzzle out what was Fitzsimmons' original plan for the mission. In the recorded message for Fitz in 7x08 Simmons mentioned that the mission hadn't exactly gone as planned, and Fitz was surprised by the fact that Jiaying was dead and that Kora was with Nathaniel. I'm guessing that the time stream does not do very well with human emotions and unpredictability. Fitz wouldn't have been able to predict it any better than Sybil could.

Bear in mind that it's all wild speculation with my shipper goggles firmly on, but I'm gonna go on a themed tangent here and suggest that Fitz did not take into account that Daisy and Sousa would hit it off.

There are two points of divergence from Fitz's plan that I can see. First, according to Simmons, the mission hadn't gone exactly as planned as early as 7x06, when the time drive started malfunctioning. Maybe it was because the ship was never hit, and it was never hit because Mack never made the call to abort the mission to flood the Lighthouse. And that was done either because the Chronicoms didn't know to abduct his parents, or the timeline of Daisy's hacking the security system was different. Now, why wouldn't the Chronicoms know not to abduct Mack's parents? 

What if Sousa didn't do the fake fiance act, didn't rescue Daisy from Gideon Malick's creepy come ons, didn't follow her into Freddy's windowless office, didn't steal the gun, and Daisy didn't have it to use it on Nathaniel? They would have had to defuse the situation a bit differently, maybe with Quake powers, which would ensure Nathaniel's fascination with Daisy's Inhuman abilities, but would not give the Chronicoms the idea to use loved ones as insurance. Or, alternatively, Sousa either would not go with Daisy on her mission, or (more probably) he would, but they wouldn't waste so much time flirting over cell phones and Daisy comforting him over his time-displacement. Daisy would work quicker on her hacking, be able to unlock the checkpoint quicker, let May and Coulson advance on the mission before Nathaniel caught on, and Mack maybe wouldn't have the time to see his parents on the screens before the mission was complete. The base would be flooded, the Chronicom ship destroyed, the Zephyr would not be hit by the missiles, there would be no time loops.

What would still happen: Nathaniel would gain his powers, Daisy would survive (with or without Sousa, because I believe Nathaniel would not have touched her more than he already did because he already got her powers. She would have eventually recovered enough to rescue herself, or else Mack and the others would have found her, because Coulson would still be around, and Mack would not be traumatized), and Sybil would have still restored herself and reached out to Nathaniel to form an alliance.

I believe the time drive jumped to the eighties because it was programmed to do it, to jump to a time when the coded transmission was supposed to go out, to when all the 0-8-4s were supposed to converge in the speakeasy. Mack and Deke's year in the eighties was not necessary to the overall plot, but the Zephyr would have stopped in the eighties regardless, if not only for this exact purpose.

The second part of divergence is Jiaying's death. The part about Afterlife is tricky. Would Yo-yo not being able to use her powers be enough for them to venture into Afterlife, if the time drive was not malfunctioning? Perhaps, knowing the plan, Simmons would suggest it, or perhaps Daisy, knowing that Nathaniel was out there, would bring it up, and the events at Afterlife would play out as they did. Nathaniel would save Kora and attack the rest of the Inhumans. Jiaying would be brought to the team, but Daisy would stay well away, as Sousa would have no business suggesting that she talk to her, and she wouldn't trust him enough to have her back during that difficult conversation. Nathaniel and Garrett would still come for Simmons, but Daisy would not be with Jiaying when May called her, so she would probably stumble on Nathaniel on her way to her mother, but without her to witness the confrontation. Jiaying would not learn that Daisy was her daughter, would not die protecting her. Nathaniel would probably taunt Daisy about having a sister (to advance whatever plan they cooked up with Sybil involving Kora and her 'I wanna be an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. bullshit), May would still interrupt the quake-off, Nathaniel would make off with Garrett, Simmons, Deke and the Zephyr (and, assuming he had not died in the nonexistent time loops, Enoch).

Coulson would bring Kora to speak with Daisy, but Jiaying would be alive, a new drama would unfold, eventually Kora, Daisy and Jiaying would bond, as Fitz predicted, perhaps Kora would be used as an insider to retrieve Simmons? Why was Jiaying pivotal? Perhaps their combined powers would be needed to fight Nathaniel. I'm unclear on the plan here. Any ideas?

I'm also unsure if Enoch was supposed to have died: Fitz was surprised that he had told Daisy about the future, but was not surprised that he wasn't there. Perhaps Enoch was supposed to have died protecting Jemma on the Zephyr when Nathaniel got her? Without ever revealing the future to Daisy and Coulson? Perhaps that's why he was programmed to kill if anyone tried to remove the implant?

In any case, with Nathaniel (and maybe the Chronicoms) gone, the team could jump through the quantum bridge. I feel like Sousa would volunteer to stay, to help restore S.H.I.E.L.D., perhaps become the next Director (he would have been the perfect candidate, really), because Fitz was completely unsurprised when he suggested it. Fitz was, however, 'whot the helling' quite a bit when Deke interrupted and offered to stay himself. I feel like Deke would not have volunteered to stay if 1) he did not experience the eighties, and 2) if he did not want to play the hero and have Daisy be happy with Sousa.

Alternatively, it's possible that Fitz predicted that Sousa would be into Daisy, would help her, save her from both Malicks and stay on the Zephyr for her, but did not predict that Daisy would fall for Sousa in return. He did not take into account that she would flirt with him, possibly causing the time drive malfunction and the time loops, fall for him harder, hard enough that she would listen to him when he suggested she talk to Jiaying. Even if the time drive was always supposed to malfunction, but Simmons didn't know it (maybe because the implant wasn't properly fixed after the EMP), without falling for Sousa, Daisy would not have talked to Jiaying, and Jiaying would not have died protecting her. Without her death hanging between them, Daisy would have bonded with Kora, and it all would have happened according to Fitz's predictions.

Instead, Daisy and Sousa fell in love and threw a massive wrench in the meticulously planned outcome. I find this delightful.

What do you guys think?

TL;DR, my personal headcanon is: Dousy was such a wild card that even the time stream did not predict it.

[shy-violet-soul]

The Things We Don’t Ask For

Summary: I’ve lived my life standing on my own two feet. It doesn’t occur to me to ask for anything. But, just because I carry it well doesn’t mean my burdens aren’t heavy.

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Warnings: a wee bit of angst, a whole lot of fluff

Word count: 2,000 ish

A/N: this is pure selfish daydreaming. Introvert that I am, I miss hugs and casual affectionate touches during this time of keeping my dear ones safe. This one goes out to all of us who fight the good fight every day, all on our own.

A/N 2: A very huge and very appreciative thank you hugs to the amazing @thesassywallflower for beta-ing this for me. Your feedback is so valued! Also, I’m experimenting with a different writing style inspired by the incredible @nacho-bucky . Thank you for giving this a read, and for sharing your art with us.

This is a work of fiction. Please do not copy my work without my written consent.

Original pic credit to owner. Very bad editing by me due to boredom.

I’m tired.

My body sinks like a broken anchor. My joints sit heavy, fatigue tiding into my limbs in mild aches. I feel the waves only distantly, the strain a susurrus I’m used to. When my brain is busy, navigating the gyres and currents of my day, I don’t notice it. But now, with idleness sudden and loud in my head, I feel every creak as I settle into the depths of a ridiculously comfortable sofa.

[[More]]

Comforting sounds of putzing from the kitchen snap me back from tempting, drowsy depths. The friendly click click click of claws on the floor tug a smile free as a happy black snout plops on my leg.

“Hey, there, Bobby!” The pup’s silky black ears are magic, siphoning stress right out of my fingertips as I happily scritch and stroke. My smile swells wider as the goodest good boy groans before he leaps up next to me. Canine kisses catch me chin to cheek, loosing giggles from me as I turn only enough to keep the black Cocker Spaniel from licking my mouth or eyeball.

“Oh, my Lord! Bobby, leave that poor girl alone!” Warmth waves into my chest in the wake of that deep voice, and Bobby laps half in my nose because I’m following my smile up, up into his blue eyes. The freedom I give myself now to dive deep into his gaze still nearly takes my breath.

Settled comfortably in a leather chair, a cup of chai steamed cheer in spice-scented whisps at my elbow as I organized my work. Pattern and pink highlighter on the table, I let the in-progress baby blanket cascade in velvet folds under my hands. Dangling earbud cords hung an invisible ‘do not disturb’ sign. The magpie chatter of my Monday through Friday left me wrung out and empty of words by week’s end, and the only conversation I often felt up to was my chai order and a passing smile. I craved the silent slide of needles and yarn, letting them disconnect my brain so I could refill my words.

Sunshine lighting the work in my lap, I snuggled happily into the cracked leather and let the clatter and whistle fade behind the soothing cello notes of my Piano Guys station. Stitches whiled away a half hour before movement caught the corner of my eye. Without looking up, I spied dark navy jeans and men’s black boots. Just above, long fingered hands cradled a leather-bound notebook, a paperback, and a steaming mug. With a quick glance, I watched him look about the seating area. I recognized the downcast eyes and tucked-in chin of a fellow chit chat dodger. Unwilling to invite conversation but empathetic to his plight, I shifted my cup-and-saucered treat to the side and slid my pattern beside me. Silent permission to sit in peace. Leather toes pointed my way, paused, then tucked themselves beneath the table. Another steaming cup joined mine, and I heard the squeak of leather over the piano in my ears as he accepted the comfort of my corner.

Studiously avoiding his gaze and clinging to my quiet, I kept on. An hour and three more carefully knitted rows later, I rolled my head around and back, cracking the tiny joints before I held the work up in front of me. Fuschia, tangerine, and blush wove together into a lacy blanket, perfect for my neighbor’s baby girl due in a few months. Plenty of time to finish the half-done work. My pride still crinkling my eyes, I scooted the work safely away from the needle ends and paused in mid-reach for my long-cold chai.

My corner mate sat transfixed, chin resting on his hand as his book and notebook sat ignored in his lap. When he caught my glance, he straightened up and smiled. The brilliance of his blue eyes set me blinking, like I’d looked up at the bright summer sky after too many dim hours indoors. He gestured towards the blanket and I obligingly pulled my earbuds free, a fleeting lance of recognition prodding at me as he sat forward.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but this is quite stunning. Did you do all that yourself?”

“Thank you. I did.”

As if he couldn’t stop himself, he gingerly fingered the end of the blanket. “My word, that is soft. I had no idea they made yarn like this. Is this to be a blanket?”

“Yes, a baby blanket. It’s velvet yarn. I didn’t know they made it, either, I found it by accident.”

“A baby blanket? Am I to offer you congratulations?”

“No, it’s for my neighbor. She and her husband and daughter are expecting a baby girl.”

He introduced himself a few moments later, and I let him think I didn’t know who he was. Before I knew it, an hour went by, then two. Never once did I scrooge over my lost quiet, because it never felt lost. Instead, I found myself seen like I’d never been before. Something butterflied in my belly at a man’s undivided attention. New, alien, I ignored it as I treated him with friendliness, courtesy.

I figured Master Thomas Hiddleston got precious little of the last.

A chance chat turned into a hoped-for encounter as Tom adorably lurked about the coffee shop, fingers crossed for my return the next Saturday. Lunch, a few dinners, and a host of text messages later, and I bemusedly refused the idea that this man was dating me.

And yet, weeks later, I’m sitting on his couch. As he breezes a kiss to me, my lips tingle and the same butterflies swirl up in my belly. He places a tray on the coffee table, urging Bobby to settle as he hunts the remote. My gaze lands on the tray, and my buoyed spirit bobbles.

Cheerfully stacked planks of vanilla, strawberry, and chocolate wafer cookies, and I can already taste the sugared crumbs of my favorite treat on my fingers. Rose and cardamom brume curling above a cup unveil my favorite tea, from a shop over 2 hours away. Fragments of conversation that I had innocently tossed, casual detritus on a course I didn’t know he charted.

“Alright now, darling, I found that film you mentioned. The one with Emma Samms and Denis Lawson. I’d no idea he was in this film. I remember watching ‘Bleak House’ on BBC, I thought his performance…” As he lifts a DVD case aloft, his words become a distant, burbled fog. I sharply swallow down the sudden wind wave of tears at the repeated realization I still cannot grasp.

He sees me.

I’ve built my life without a lighthouse. Journeyed contentedly under the steam of an unheard sonar, the pings of a heartbeat happy on its own. My compass crafted carefully, each tear-salt rusted edge a hard-won victory over a map blanked by friendly coupled flocks. I waved them off, bittersweet when unanswered amid their own journeys. Never seen. Never bothered. Never asking.

But he sees me.

The truth of it all at once overwhelms and undercuts me. Swelling, then sinking, I feel as if my broken-anchor body cracks, sloughing off coats of salty red as oxygen leaves me. Faintly, Tom’s voice distinguishes back into words as I secretly flounder before him.

“...found it on some obscure website aptly called ‘eCrater’. I’ll have to return to it and see what other titles they may have in...love, are you alright?”

Two sets of puppy dog eyes regard me now, and the warmth of his hand on mine cuts loose a sob. Horror chases after it, and I dive to hide in my lap. So used to being unseen, the suddenness of the tender focus spotlighting me has me cold and quaking.

Even as I sink, though, a mooring. His bulk steadies before me as he kneels. His warmth settles about me as he wraps me up in strength, unfamiliar in the lending. A hundred hushed comforts croon into my ears, and every attempt I make to seize onto some control slips away with each endearment.

“Oh, darling! Love, what’s wrong? Has something happened? It’s alright, it’s okay, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Exhausted, enraptured, I let myself drift. The scent of his soap zephyrs through me, the drag of his long fingers against my scalp a drug I drag in deep and greedily. So blissfully, brokenly free am I in that moment, I don’t resist when his warm hands urge my salt-fogged gaze up to his.

“What is it? What can I do?” he implores.

The words cast off before I can stop them.

“You’re so nice.”

Confusion crinkles a line between his brows as he strokes my hair behind my ear.

“This a problem? My being nice?”

A watery chuckle croaks from me. How to make him understand? Fear of looking pathetic closes my throat with anxiety, but when he presses a kiss to my forehead, the warmth of it shuts my eyes. His clear affection for me - me - tides through and through, and the hungerings I’ve hidden for a lifetime are helpless but to rise and meet him. Fear and freedom tremble in my fingers as I raise them to trace his brow, his cheek, settling hesitant against his jaw.

“No, not a problem. I’m just...not used to being remembered.”

His concerned gaze softens now, the heaviness of worry lightening.

“My darling girl. You’d best become accustomed to me remembering you.” Caring strokes right through me from his fingertips along my face, and dizzying heat pours in from his kiss on mine. Fresh tears sting salty beneath my eyes as I feel his heart beat beneath my hands. The giddying swirls in my belly from the slight drag of his lips against me, the clutch of his arms in my esurient hands. This receiving, this giving, this freedom is a siren call I’ve never dreamed of.

“Now - we are going - to enjoy this film,” Tom starts, kisses dashing his words and dotting my face. “We are going - to drink - our tea, you are going to devour the biscuits, and I,” and his voice drowns me in its sudden depth, “may just devour you.”

The dizzy butterflies unleash a delirious giggle from my middle. The rasp of his calloused thumbs sweeping away my tears brings on a fresh wave. But they sparkle in the trying sunshine of my smile.

Tom growls playfully under my chin before moving to get the movie started, then groans when he turns back to see Bobby has taken his spot beside me. Puppy whimpers and gentle scolds filter in with the opening sequence of a 90s British whodunit story, tugging my smile wider. As Tom settles in beside me, shyness struggles amid the butterflies.

“Can we snuggle?” I whisper the request, my newfound surety soft as sand, but still solid enough to hold me. Tom answers me with outstretched arms and a smile bright enough to turn the tide. I dive in, nestle down, clasp him close.

Unseen, I feel his smile against my forehead. Unbothered, the movements of him shifting us to lay down hardly register. Unasking, we luxuriate in the quiet affection of soft touches and contented sighs.

And my broken-anchor body drifts away.

[cassnottiel]

LAST ONE I PROMISE, a s5 au where owen shaw is somehow alive and kicking but he's kind of a super asshole? like his wife died and he shut down via john winchester type? and hes a super asshole to deke too? and fitzsimmons, especially after finding out deke is their grandson, r not here for it and r just hella badass

Melinda May woke up in an unknown place, with the man who sent them to the future standing over her.  She groaned and sat up.  "Where are we?"  She asked, then looked past the man (Enoch, she remembered) at the very familiar logo painted on the wall.  S.H.I.E.L.D.  "The Zephyr.  How?  What is going on?"

"They grabbed us just in time."  Enoch said in his halting, not quite natural sounding voice.  "Anchored us against the gravity storm."

"Who?"  May asked.  Enoch looked behind him, and she followed his gaze to watch two people, both their faces covered, entered whatever room they were in.  She hastily stood up, poising herself for a fight, should one break out.  

But she stopped as an old woman walked in behind the two, smiled at May, held out a small wooden bird, and said:  "I've waited such a long time to see you again."

Robin Hinton.  Her father was an Inhuman who could made people see how they died when they touched him.  She gestured for May to follow, and she started walking.  May did her best to limp after, all the way to the cockpit.  What should have been a short walk felt like Hell on her injured leg.

Sunlight shone through the windows of the Zephyr as Robin and May sat next to the controls.  The plane was a mess, but the power was still working.

"How are you here?"  May asked when they both had sat down.

Robin didn't answer right away.  She stared blankly up at a wall for several long seconds.  "There's something else I need to remember . . ." she muttered to herself, then her eyes focused and she looked at May again.  "Sorry.  What did you ask?"

May sighed.  "How are you even here?"

Robin smiled.  "I told you we'd survive the crash."  She said it she was repeating it for the thousandth time.

"The crash?"  May was not understanding in the slightest.  "I'm not sure I know what you're--"

"Don't be put out if you can't follow Robins train of thought."  May looked over at the two men who approached.  One looked vaguely familiar, the other did not.

"It's like her life is a deck of cards shuffled out of order."  The other man tried to explain.  "She's a seer, but nowadays she can't separate past, present, and future."

"My name is Samuel Voss," the first man said, then jerked his head to the side at the other man, "and this is Owen Shaw.  Sorry for the rough rescue, but you have to act fast when gravity storms start kicking up."

"Shaw?"  May asked as she shook their hands.  "Do you happen to have a kid?"

Owens frowned in confusion.  "You've met Deke?  He's alright down there?"

"He's alive."  May said.  "He didn't make a great first impression with me."  She held up her wrist, showing off the metric Deke had stabbed into her.  She let her hand drop when she noticed the others on the Zephyr covering themselves with spare cloth and picking up the large claw devices.  "You're going back out?"

"Yeah, my crew is gonna go out and collect your friends."  Voss smiled as Owen started walking away.

"Wait.  They made it to the surface?  How do you know?"  May limped forward in earnest.  

Voss looked at Robin.  "She told me.  A decade ago."  A loud explosion sounded in the sky, and May whipped her head around to look out the window.  A Trawler was falling, and fast.  "Don't worry.  Robin told me they survive this crash, too."  Voss said, then walked over to talk to his crew.

- - -

"Is everyone alright?"  Coulson yelled as soon as his head stopped ringing from the crash.  He got a response of pained and annoyed groans from four different voices, so he took that as four 'yes's.

"We should get out before something happens to the ship."  Fitz shakily stood from his seat.

"Are you kidding?"  Deke stumbled into the cockpit.  "Go out into the roach infested planet without protection?"

"What else are we supposed to do?"  Daisy snapped at him.  "Stay in here and wait for everyone else to come get us?"

"There has to be a sustainable shelter out there."  Simmons said, looking out the front window.  "At least an atmosphere, if people have survived down here."

"I just crashed a spaceship, what if the engine explodes?"  Coulson stood up and leaned over the controls to look out the window.

"These things are built to take damage, it'll be fine."  Deke leaned against the back of Daisys seat.

"What's that?"  Simmons pointed out at the landscape.  Everyone followed her gaze and watched as a line of small figures started getting closer.

"It's like a line of ants."  Daisy squinted to see better.  "Do you think those are the people?"

"Maybe . . ."  Fitz trailed off.  

"Are those Vrell-Nexians?"  Coulson asked, and everyone looked at Deke for an answer.

Deke shook his head.  "No, they're moving too slow.  And just call them roaches like everyone else."

"What should we do, sir?"  Simmons asked Coulson.

Coulson looked at Daisy.  "We should stay in here and wait for them to come to us.  They seem to know their way around."

So they waited.  They watched the sun move from behind the Trawler to in front of it.  

Deke stood up and put on his space helmet when the line of people were almost at the ship.

"What are you doing?"  Coulson stood up and blocked the ladder.

"I'm going out to meet them."  Dekes voice was slightly muffled from inside the helmet.  "I'll be back."  Coulson grabbed his arm.  Deke took his helmet off and glared.  "What do I have to gain by abandoning you guys here?"

That was a fair point.  Coulson let go, and the S.H.I.E.L.D agents watched Deke climb up the ladder and heard howling winds when he opened the hatch on the ceiling.  They watched through the window as Deke approached the people, exchanged words, and took an offered duffel bag from them.  He started floating back up to the Trawler, and the four agents heard a pair of feet make a heavy landing on the roof.  

The hatch opened, and the duffel bag dropped in, followed by Deke.  "Put those on."  He told them.  "They're taking us to their base, May's there already."

There were coats, cloaks, cloth scraps, and goggles in the bag.  Everyone started layering their clothes, covering up any exposed skin.  The five of them walked with the group of True Believers for a long time.  The sun had set, and the constellations of the night sky made themselves visible.

"Nobody knows these people are alive?"  Simmons said over the wind, holding tight to Fitz.

"People were sent here as a death sentence."  Deke explained.  "Even I thought they were dead."

The Zephyr was right in front of them.  "Why doesn't Kasius send for the bodies to be recovered?"

"No, you don't understand."  Deke said, walking inside and waiting for the scientists.  "They're not just dead.  As far as everyone in the Lighthouse is concerned, everybody that came up here was torn to scraps."  He took off his helmet and took in his surroundings.  "But they're all still alive and living in an actual airplane."  

"Fitz," Jemma took off her gloves and looked around, "your design really withstood the test of time."

Deke turned around and stared at the scientists.  "Wait, you designed this?"  His awe was genuine.  "I can't imagine what it must have been like to f--"

"Deke?"  

The man in question looked past FitzSimmons and gasped softly.  "Dad."  Deke smiled and took off running.

Owen Shaw welcomed his son with open arms, hugging him tightly as soon as he was close enough.  "Deke!  Thank God you're safe."

Deke laughed happily.  "I missed you so much."

"How did you end up tagging along with these people?"  Owen pulled away from the hug and glanced at the scientist, then did a double take and stared at them.

Deke smiled.  "It's a long story, I can tell you . . ." he frowned and followed his fathers line of sight.  "Dad?  What's wrong?"

Owen shrugged his son away and stepped closer to FitzSimmons, seething fury flashed across his face.  "You two?  What the Hell are you two doing here?"

"Dad!"  Deke grabbed his fathers arm.  "That's Fitz and Simmons, they're the--"

"I know who they are!"  Owen shoved Deke back and continued stalking towards the engaged couple.  The rest of the S.H.I.E.L.D team had run in to see what was happening.  Fitz stepped in front of Simmons protectively.  "You taught Alya everything she knew.  You're the reason they killed her!"  Owen pointed accusingly at the two.  Voss ran in and tried to restrain Owen, who struggled and continued yelling.  "And now you're going to get my son killed!"  

"Dad, calm down!"  Deke looked shocked, but he still put himself between his father and his new companions.  "What are you--?"

Owens arms were pinned down to his sides by Voss, so when he lashed out, he kicked.  And he kicked Deke right where the Kree had stabbed him.  

As Deke stumbled back and hit the floor, Coulson ran forward and punched Owen with his bionic hand.  Owen went limp.  For a long minute, the only sounds on the Zephyr were the sounds on the outside.  

"What the Hell."  Fitz was the first one to speak.

Deke grunted as he pulled himself up from the floor.  Voss rushed forward to help.  Deke looked at Fitz and Simmons like he was seeing completely different people.  

"I'm sorry."  Voss said breathlessly.  "He's never done anything like that before."

Simmons frowned.  "Who's Alya?"

Deke leaned against the wall and pressed his hand against his stab wound.  "My mother."  He blinked a few times.  

"What the Hell is that supposed to mean?"  Daisy looked between everyone, just as confused as everyone else.  Nobody had an answer for that.

"Let's get him somewhere he won't hurt anyone else when he wakes up."  Coulson pointed to Owens unconscious body.  Two of Voss' crew members immediately jumped in and started dragging him to the lockers.  "You two, get to medical."  Coulson pointed to Daisy, then to Deke, who coughed and winced.  They both followed the order without objection.

After everyone else on the plane had gone off to keep themselves busy, Voss spoke to FitzSimmons.  "I didn't want to say this in front of Deke and the others."  He lowered his voice and looked to Simmons.  "But you do look a lot like Dekes mom."

Fitz and Simmons shared a confused look, then turned back to Voss.  "What?"

"Alya was kind of like a doctor in the Lighthouse," Voss started to explain, "you know, helping people who were sick or injured.  Her mother was a real doctor and taught her everything."  He looked at the floor solemnly.  "The Kree killed her when Deke was nine."

"What are you saying?"  Fitz asked quietly.

"I think you two are Alyas parents."  Voss told them plainly.  "You definitely look like them, just younger."

"And that would make us Dekes grandparents."  Simmons muttered.  She looked in the direction of medical.  "He's hurt, I should check on him."

Voss watched her go and spoke after a few seconds of silence.  "You guys are taking that news pretty well, despite everything."

"We're dealing with a lot right now," Fitz started following his fiance, "just wait until the shock wears off."

- - -

"I can't believe they stabbed you."  Daisys voice floated out from where the lab used to be.  

A male voice hissed in pain.  "I guess I kind of deserved it, after what I did."  Jemma stopped outside the door and took a deep breath.  "Coulson and May both punched me."

"I think I can put off being mad at you until you resolve whatever's going on with your dad."  Daisys voice was quieter, as if she was concentrating.  "Do you know what that was?"

"I have no idea."  Dekes voice answered.  "He's never done that before."

Jemma opened the door and walked in.  Deke was sitting on a table, holding the hem of his shirt up while Daisy did her best to change the bandage over the stab wound.  They both looked up as Jemma entered.

"Thank God, I'm not good at this."  Daisy stepped back.

Jemma knelt down in front of Deke and bandaged his wound the best she could with the limited supplied.  The silence was very awkward.  

"I'm sorry."  Deke blurted out suddenly.  "I didn't know he was going to do that."

"It's not your fault."  Jemma reassured with a small smile.  She wouldn't bring up what Voss said, not in front of the team.  She stood up after she finished working.  "Don't do anything too strenuous, you could hurt yourself more."

"Thanks."  Deke nodded and stood up.  "I'm going to talk to my dad, see if he's calmed down."

"Be careful."  Jemma called after him.

Deke passed Fitz in the hallway, who watched him with weary eyes.  Deke shrugged it off and explored the Zephyr.  He found his father near the bunks, locked in what looked like a cage full of personal belongings.

Owen blinked up at his son.  "Deke?  What happened?"

"You saw Fitz and Simmons and you freaked out.  You said they're the reason Mom died, and they were trying to kill me."  Deke crossed his arms.  "What was that about?"

Owen sighed and leaned against the chain link door.  "If your grandparents hadn't taught your mother everything they did, she would still be alive."  He said bitterly.  "The Blues killed all the smart people, and they're the reason she was that smart."

Dekes eyes widened.  "They're my grandparent?"

Owen nodded, looking even more bitter.  "If it weren't for them, we wouldn't be living in the Lighthouse."

Deke blinked and pinched the bridge of his nose.  "You're telling me . . ." he sighed and looked up, "Nana and Bobo caused the Earth to break apart?"

"No, not just them."  Owen rolled his eyes.  "Their whole team.  S.H.I.E.L.D."

Deke did not understand what his father was saying.  "So why did you--" something behind Owen caught his eye.  "What's that?"

Owen looked, and quickly snatched up the white rock his son was staring at.  "This is how we got them here."

"So that's why you kept it."  Deke grabbed a set of keys off the wall and started fumbling with the lock.  "That's how we get them back.  I saw the time machine, we need to give it to them."

"Deke, they're not going back."  Owen said, pushing the door open.

"What do you mean?"  Deke frowned.  "They have to.  How else are they supposed to prevent all this?"  He gestures around the room.

"They cause all this."  Owen stepped forward, out of the locker.  "If we keep them here, they don't go back and break the planet."

Deke stared.  "You just told me two of them are my grandparents and now you're telling me they can't leave?"  He held his hand out.  "Give that to me.  They're going back."

Owen sighed.  "I really wish you would make this easier for me.  But, I guess some things just run in the family."

Deke took a careful step back.  "What--?"

Owen slammed the white rock against his sons head.  Deke grunted and fell to the floor, but he was still conscious.  Owen grabbed him by the front of his jacket and dragged him into the locker, closing the door and locking it.  "Your mother told me trouble wasn't genetic.  I guess she was wrong."

As Owen started walking down the hallway, leaving the white rock on the floor, Deke sat up and blinked rapidly to clear his vision.  He had to get out.

He looked up at the ceiling, to clear his confusion more than anything else, and he saw a gap between the top of the fence and the roof of the plane.  About a foot and a half, he could make it.

Deke turned the knob on his belt buckle, and he started floating.  He squeezed through the gap above the fence, then dropped to the floor.  He picked up the rock and started walking as quietly as he could, despite his listing to the side.

Somehow, he made it to the lab without running into anyone.  Unfortunately, there were two people men guarding the door.  "Can, uh . . ." Deke blinked and tried his best to point to the door.  "Can I get-get through?  I think I'm--"

"Deke?"  The handle to the door was jiggled, but it did not open.  "What's going on?"

Deke swallowed thickly and felt something warm drip down the side of his neck.  The two guards looked concerned and one stepped forward to help.  Deke took off his belt buckle, shoved it into the other man, turned the control setting once, then twice, and the other man went flying to the opposite wall.  The other guard drew a knife and brandished it at Deke.

"Deke!"  Fitz yelled through the door.  "What's happening?!"

Coulson and May rounded the corner, saw one man stuck to a wall, saw another man holding a knife, and heard Fitz yelling and banging on a door.  They both ran forward to help Deke, who was definitely in no shape to fight.

As May and Coulson took the fight, Deke moved forward, unlocked the door, and stepped into the lab.  He looked over Fitz and Simmons' worried faces.  "I'm guessing Dad didn't really make a good first impression with the in-laws."

"What happened?"  Jemma immediately ran up to Deke.  He held up the white rock, spotted with blood.

"What is it?"  Fitz took the rock.

"He said--" Deke coughed.  "He said it's how you-you got, um, got here."

"It's part of a monolith."  Jemmas face dawned with realization before she looked back to the head injury.  "Who did this to you?"

Deke slumped over, finally falling unconscious.

"Here."  May appeared in the doorway and tossed the gavatonium belt buckle to the scientists.  "We'll take care of everyone else."

Fitz nodded, then turned to his grandson on the floor.  "Do you think he'll be okay?"

Jemma sighed.  "I told him not to do anything too physical, but I'll let this one slide."  She looked closer at the wound.  "It's not bleeding too much, he probably wasn't hit very hard if he stayed awake afterward."

"Do you think he know?"  Fitz asked, examining the monolith piece.  "He called us 'the in-laws.'"

"I doubt he doesn't"  Jemma started cleaning the blood off of Dekes head.  "Who do you think did this to him?"

"Wasn't he going to his father?"  Fitz asked.  The couple made eye contact.

Jemma clenched her hands into fists and stood up.  "I'm going to kill him.  Who would do something like that to their own child?"

"A man trying to keep his son safe."  The scientists turned to the door.  Owen Shaw was holding a hammer.  

"Funny way of showing it."  Fitz grabbed a heavy wrench and stepped in front of Deke and Jemma.

"I couldn't have him getting in the way."  Owen said.

"So you hit him over the head with a rock?"  Jemma seethed.  She picked up a screwdriver from the table next to her and threw it at Owen.

Owen watched the screwdriver and easily dodged it.  "What was that sup--?"

Fitz punched him.  "Deke definitely gets his intelligence from us."

[author-morgan]

Phobia ☤ Alexios

four - a vow of vengeance

masterlist

“Be strong, saith my heart; I am a soldier; I have seen worse sights than this.”

Fate decrees two kindred souls from two different empires will find one another, and the spear shall be made whole again.

RUMORS SPREAD AROUND the city in the days following the incident of a traitor or a Spartan –killing Athenian soldiers. Zephyr finds a bloodstained chlamys hidden amongst a dense patch of flowers to the side of the villa and discovers the shaft of the broken spear has a bloody feminine handprint. He brings both items before Irene, watches the color drain from her face. "Care to explain?" She stays quiet, eyes downcast –the sight of blood still makes her feel sick. "Irene, you cannot do this."

Irene recalls the woman's face, beaten and frightened –of both the men and her. "They were going to rape her!" She blurts out. The gods weren't going to send someone to intervene, so she would do so on their behalf.

"You're lucky they didn't rape you or worse!" Zephyr rebukes, regretting the words as soon as they leave his lips. His sister's face grows florid, her expression turns harsh. She doesn't say anything even if her eyes do. "Why were you even outside the city at night?" He asks.

The princess bites down on her tongue. She has felt like a trapped songbird for years. Kept hidden from the outside world. She longs to see new sights on distant horizons, to have adventures like the great heroes of legends. "I want to travel!"

Zephyr pinches the bridge of his nose –he should have known this day would come. "No," he tells her, "you must stay here. There are people in this world who want to find you, Irene." The Order of Ancients. He has told her about the Order many times, mostly to frighten her but she is a woman now and no longer easily frightened by stories of men in masks.

"But they won't!" She counters. Irene has learned to hide her tracks well, knows how to hold her own with sword and spear.

Zephyr shakes his head. "You can't know that!" He castigates. She may be a fighter, but Irene is not a warrior and she does not have experience in war. The Order does and they are ruthless. "Hydarnes wanted you to be kept safe." It's an unscrupulous decision to bring up the old general, but it often works.

Irene's harsh exterior falters at the mention of the man who raised her, but she won't let his memory be used against her any longer. She sits straight –resolute. "Then you can come with me," she tells him.

"You're not going to stop are you?" Her brother asks with a heavy sigh. Irene crosses her arms, tilts her head to the side with a raised brow. "Fine," he concedes, arms crossed. "We can sojourn in Euboea. Alkibiades has business there too." Irene rolls her eyes at the mention of Perikles' ward. Alkibiades and Zephyr are close, but she'll take the small victory. "Hopefully by the time we return, the people will have forgotten about the men you've killed."

JOURNEYING TO EUBOEA does not take long. The galley ship, Lonchi, docks in Chalkis and will set sail back to Athens in five days. More than enough time for Alkibiades to carry out his business and for Irene to explore the southern coast. The princess purchases two strong horses –then promises to return them to the merchant before leaving.

Amarynthos is a quiet seaside chora within a hard day's ride of the island's principle polis. Irene and Zephyr are greeted warmly by the people and their time in the quiet chora passes too quickly.

"I admit," her brother begins, offering a reserved smile to hide his defeat, "this was nice, though we should be getting back to the chora." The hour has grown late, and the sun starts a slow march toward the mainland and sea. He cannot recall a time when Irene was ever this happy. "I'll fetch Arion," he tells her, wishing to give her extra time to take in the views from the Temple of Artemis as they would be leaving in the morning to return to Chalkis.

Irene sits back on the stone steps, imagines how far she could have traveled by now if not for leading a sheltered life in Athens. Her calm is interrupted by shouting. She curses the gods for their poor timing and rises, but when she hears the shout again her blood runs cold. "Zephyr!" Irene screams, running through trees –she's able to stop herself before entering the glade where the rogues are.  

She presses her back against a cypress tree, the rough bark digging into her shoulders and peplos. Leonidas' spear is secured on Arion's saddle –just out of reach. A group of five bandits encircles her brother. They've taken his purse of drachmae and the gold medallion from his neck. Next, they will take his life. Ares and Enyo grant me strength. Hermes let me be quick. Drawing in a slow breath, she bolts past Arion, taking the broken spear.  

Twigs snap and underbrush rustles under heavy footfalls. Irene watches a shadow shift, moving closer –a blade in hand. She's swift as a young doe and the spear's tip slips into the man's neck. He only has a second to look upon her before the weapon is ripped free and his lifeblood pulses from the deep gash.

A flash of pale green catches the attention of another bandit. Her heart is pounding in her ears –as she looks at the blood staining her hands, she has to fight the urge to retch. Irene crouches down behind another tree and waits.

Someone passes by her and stops, but doesn't look down. Cut a man in the right place, and he's good as dead Theophilus had told her while binding a poor hunter's wound. The hunter had been gored by a deer's antler and nearly bled to death before they could burn it. Irene sees the same opportunity.

The man feels the cold bite of metal just above the interior of his knee, though before he can react Irene presses the blade's edge into his skin –hard and quickly jerks the spear back. His left leg gives, and blood spurts from the gash in sync with her racing heart. He dies by his own sword before a cry of pain or warning can escape his lips.

Two more fall in the same manner –never reacting soon enough to defend themselves. Irene charges into the clearing but hesitates –the last bandit is holding a jagged blade against Zephyr's neck, face hidden behind a stolen helmet. "Put the spear down, girl." The guttural voice belongs to a woman. Her brother is trembling. Blood flows freely from his nose and mouth.

Zephyr looks up to Irene –shoulders heaving, face twisted in rage, and a blood laden spear clutched in her hand. "Drop the fucking spear!" The bandit shouts at the same time Zephyr twists away. He is not quick enough and something sharp sinks into his chest.

The slight opening is all Irene needs –she darts forward, leaps up and slashes the spear. A warm splatter of blood hits the princess' cheek as the woman falls back, hands clawing at her open throat with a terrible gurgling.

Irene turns with a smile instantly gone when she sees the hilt of the bandit's blade rising from her brother's chest. Zephyr collapses and Irene does too. "I'm sorry," she chokes out through tears, her hands hovering over the blade as blood seeps into the pale tunic. Medicine runs in your blood, Irene he had once told her after she'd found work as an apprentice under Theophilus –though now she doesn't believe it to be true. There is nothing she can do.

He takes her hand. "You fought well." The efforts of her training served her well –not a single drop of blood on her hands or robes was her own. Zephyr knows now his sister can defend herself and that brings him peace in these final moments. "Remember, Irene. The Order will never stop searching for you." He reaches up, strokes her cheek with the back of his fingers. "Always keep vigilant," his voice grows weaker, "always march forward." Her brother's hand falls away.

"I'm sorry, Zephyr!" Irene cries but his warm brown eyes are unfocused, gazing upward at the dying light of day –blind and deaf. "Please don't leave me," she pleads, face tucked into his shoulder but the Keres have already taken him to Hades.

A dark voice begins whispering in her ear, pinning his death on her. You should have stayed in Athens it says. You killed him. You killed both of them. She pulls at her hair and screams –the cry so shrill and filled with despair that the gods could not have ignored it.

Night has fallen by the time Irene sits up –her brother's blood is dried on her hands and clothes, his body cold and pallid. She looks at the short blade, wraps her hand around the hilt and pulls it free. With shaking knees, she rises and follows the sound of flowing water. She has no libations save for Charon's obol. Sunlight breaks through the trees as she lays the last stone over Zephyr's body.

The princess falls to her knees next to the cairn and lays an olive branch on the pile of smooth rock. She holds the dagger that took her brother's life and swears to she will rid the world of injustice with or without the blessing of the gods.

[mzargentum]

Aggretsorry

Part III of first mini-series.

Warnings: None.

OC’s: Muerlinian Zephyr, Six Ulric & Evita Hemlock.

Word Count: 1,588

Pt. I | Pt. II | Pt. III

Later that afternoon...

Business was sort of slow so the shop owner was catching up on a little reading.

“Ooo, chef Sanji,” the old woman giggled to herself. “I got a somethin’ for you to sink teeth into right between my-.”

“HI, MS. LEE!!!”

The old woman shrieked at the sudden slam against her counter, dropping her book to see a panting and sweaty wizard in front of her.

“Oh, Muerlin, is just you,” the woman collected yourself. “You nearly give me heart attack, girl!”

“Sorry, Ms. Lee,” Muerlin wiped the sweat from her brow, “but it’s urgent”.

“You covered in sweat,” the woman commented in worry, “and smell like toilet. You run cross kingdom?”

“Not really,” Muerlin replied.

“Oh?”

“Just across town”.

“WHAT?!”

“I had to grab these before Prompto could get home”, Muerlin pulled a large bark up to the counter and poured its contents out before the woman. 

Her eyes widening at them before she rose a curious eyebrow at the girl.

“What for?”

“You think Muerlin’s gonna be alright?,” Evita asked the glaive as they strolled down the Insomnia streets. “She’s not exactly a master with confrontation”.

“She’ll be fine,” Six insisted. “This isn’t the first fight those two have ever been in and it certainly won’t be the last”.

“Yeah,” the assassin looked toward the sky, the sun beginning to set.

“I’m wondering what she’s going to do to fix this shitstorm,” Six lifted a pondering finger to her chin.

“Beats me, but y’know Muerlin. It’s bound to be something crazy”.

“You sure you want to sell?,” Ms. Lee asked the young wizard. “These one of a kind item. You were so excited when you got them”.

“I know, but I have to,” Muerlin lightly sighed with a small smile. “I gotta make it up to Prompto”.

With a sigh, the old woman complied.

“Alright. These three worth 1,150 each and this one 1,550 because it’s more rare so you get 5,000gil”.

Muerlin’s face lit up like a firework as she hopped triumphantly.

“YES! That’s exactly what I need!”

“THIS BOY BETTER MARRY YOU, GIRL!!!,” Ms. Lee loudly called toward Muerlin as she hurriedly raced out the door.

“THANK YOU, MS. LEE!!! SEE YA LATER!!!,” Muerlin giggled with a wave as she dashed down the street.

Unbeknownst to her just ahead of where Six and Vee were walking. Both left wide eyed at their friend’s speed before glancing toward the manga shop across the street and then each other, silently agreeing they should check it out.

“Welcome!,” Ms. Lee shouted as she heard the shop’s door chime.

“Hi, Ms. Lee,” the two greeted the old woman in unison.

“Oh, girls, you just miss Muerlin”.

“Yeah, we saw her practicing for the hundred meter dash up the road,” Evita sarcastically joked.

“Oh, that girl,” Ms. Lee shook her head in disapproval, “she give me heart attack one day! You let her be bad for my health!”, the woman shook her cane at them.

“We’re sorry, Ms. Lee,” Six chuckled. “We’ll put her back in the kennel”.

“Hmph,” the old woman shook her head at the glaive’s joke.

“By the way, what was she so rallied up about anyway?,” Vee asked looking around the shop.

“I don’t know, but whatever it may be, it was enough to make her sell me these,” the old woman replied as she showed the girls the bag that Muerlin brought.

Not a word in any dictionary could be enough to describe the utter shock that fell onto their faces.

“What in the actual hell?!,” Six gasped.

“I told you she was going crazy”, Evita added.

That evening...

After hours of running up and down the city, Muerlin finally made it home.

Busting in the apartment, the door harshly slammed against the wall.

“Prompto!!”, Muerlin called out in a pant, hoping to the Gods that he hadn’t left for Noct’s yet.

“Prom, sweetie, please tell me you’re still home!!”

Muerlin frantically looked around the living room and the kitchen.

“What the what??”

Muerlin turned toward the bedroom to see her beloved chocobo standing in the doorway, light worry in his face.

“Muerlin?”

“Oh, thank Ramuh you’re still home!”, the woman hurried up to him.

“Y-yeah, but...,” Prompto stammered as he felt against the reddened portions of Muerlin’s face, “babe, are you okay? You’re burning up!” 

“Please don’t go tonight! I don’t know what I’d do if you left!”

“I won’t...wasn’t, but what’s going on? Why is your face on fire? And...what’s that?,” Prompto pointed to a large box in the woman’s hands.

“I-It’s for you,” Muerlin stammered before pushing it toward him.

“Muerlin, I actually just wanted to talk to you-“.

“Please open it!!”, the wizard frantically interrupted the man silencing him and after a brief pause, he finally complied to opening the package.

His jaw nearly hitting the floor once he saw the camera he had been saving up for now suddenly in his hands.

Along with the 1,400gil lens and the latest pocket digital camera, a much more advanced model than his red one.

“I’m sorry for everything!!”

Prompto’s shaken ocean eyes returned to his beloved.

“I’m sorry for being such a klutz with all of your cameras and I’m sorry for what I did to you lens, and for spending all of our gil on sushi. I was going to replace it, I swear it! I know how much that camera meant to you”. 

Prompto’s ocean eyes twinkled as he watched tears begin to stream down his love’s face.

“H...how did you even get these? That’s at least 4,000gil”.

“5,000...”.

“Excuse me?!”, Prompto shrieked. “Where in the world did you come up with 5,000gil so quickly?!”

Muerlin didn’t answer as eyes peered slightly toward the bookshelf.

Prompto turned toward the bookshelf and gasped when he noticed.

“Please tell me I’m hallucinating. You sold your SIGNED Aggretsuko Pops for this?! Are you crazy?! You waited 8 months for that anime convention and 3 hours in that line to get her to sign them!! Those were your favorite things in the entire world...”.

“I had to make this up to you and this was the only way to do it. I’m a massive idiot and I don’t deserve you”.

“Woah, Muerlin, hey...”.

“...but see? I’d give anything to have you at my side forever because I love you so much, more than anything in all of Eos, in the entire universe!!”

All the blonde plebe could do was stand there in awe of his girlfriend’s spill.

“So, please...please please please forgive me!!”, the girl’s bitter tears pouring like waterfalls down her face. “I can’t lose you!!”

“And you won’t,” Prompto finally cut in, taking the crying girl in his arms, silencing her panic at last.

“Alright, now it’s my turn,” he started with a smile. “I’m sorry”.

Muerlin’s eyes widened in confusion and shock. “For...what?”

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that,” he shamefully admitted. “Just like with the lens and the other camera, I know you never meant any harm by any of it and then the fact that you sold them...because of this...”.

Prompto pulled Muerlin into the warmest embrace.

“I’m so sorry...I’m the one that doesn’t deserve you”, he ran his fingers through her silver locks.

Pulling herself away slightly so she can return his gaze, Muerlin blinked her tears away.

“So...you’re really not mad...?”

“Of course, I’m not mad,” Prompto giggled to himself as he caresses her damp cheek drying her tears.

“I love you more than I could love anything in this world, let alone any ol’ camera,” he gleefully admitted finally putting a smile on those soft lips.

“Besides, how could I stay mad at someone so cute?,” the man lovingly rubbed his nose against Muerlin’s, a giggle lifting from her throat and she leapt to hug the man.

Planting a sweet kiss upon his pink lips.

“Hm, go figure,” Evita mumbled to herself as she watched on the edge of their balcony.

“What’s going on?,” Six strenuously called out to the redhead standing hoisted up on her shoulders.

“Oh, just some sappy puppy love, the usual,” Evita smiled as she watched.

“Great,” Six wiggled, her arms starting to give out. “Are we done here?”

“They really do kiss like little puppies,” Evita watched wistfully as Six groaned in frustration over the weight of her friend.

“Oh, okay, there’s a little tongue in there. Okay, gettin’ saucy with it,” the assassin smirked clearly enjoying it.

“Okay, I’m putting you down now,” Six grunted toward her peeping friend.

“OH! And straight off to the races we go!,” Evita squirmed at the sudden escalation she just witness.

Ultimately loosing her footing on Six’s shoulders, a shriek echoed throughout the neighborhood as Evita plummeted to the ground below.

The ladies eyes becoming saucers at once another in the brief silence.

After the sound of the lock of the balcony sliding door unhooking, all Evita heard was a subtle...

“Run”.

...before a typhoon type wind slapped her in the face and turning around to see Six nearly halfway to the end of the street.

Wasting no time, Evita leapt to her feet cursing her friend to the heavens as she chased after.

Muerlin giggling to herself as she watched.

“What’s up, babe? You see something?,” A mostly naked Prompto asked as he kissed the back of his love’s neck.

“Nope,” Muerlin smirked to herself before lowering the blinds. “Nothing at all”.

                                                   ________________

Tagging: @digitalkanvas​ @completelyinappropriate​ @aquathemermaidstripper​ @glacian-apocalypse​ @a-new-recipehhh​

[agl03]

Season 6 Promo Breakdown

I’m back baby!

Here is my early take on the Promo...WE HAVE A PROMO!  Love that a few theories look to be confirmed right out of the gate.  As always these could change as more spoilers come out.  Also bear in mind this could have scenes from multiple episodes.  And yes...they hid FItz.

Do I get a cookie for Holo Coulson?  So we have our first way that Coulson is back.  A Holo version of himself to help advise Mack when he needs it.  

Hammer home that whole Coulson is dead so they can nail us with major plot twist...check.

May was indeed with him to the end....pause to cry.  Things of note.  May has a boo boo and we know from BTS pics that she was in a fight at the museum.  So its possible this is after that.  But I also get the feel that May hasn’t been back long if they are discussing the time she had with Coulson.  She could also be there to ask Mack about the mission Ming spoke of at SDCC. 

Heavy is the Head.  This comes as no surprise as well as Henry discussed Mack going through the challenges of being Director.  A large part of that will be keeping everyone safe.  So we’ll see him butt heads with Elena about her staying safe while we could continue to see some guilt about losing Fitz.  I also suspect that he will loose and Agent (redshirt we get attacked too in .05 seconds) in the Premiere and it will hit him hard. 

FEELS!  I HAVE FEELS!  Looks like that whole Fitz get Fitznapped before the team can find them happened. At least we are getting our annual Fitznapping out of the way early this season.  They brought the pod aboard for some reason, likely to look for clues or Jemma wanted something to help her feel closer.  Interestingly I don’t see the bloody handprint we see later. 

Space goons about to get beat up by a super confident and stronger Daisy in what could be a Space Bar since Daisy says its “Ladies Night”.

Cue butt kicking big actiony fight scene to showcase Daisy’s awesome...possibly supped up...fighting skills.  My dude trying to slink out the back there either is just getting out of the way or Daisy was trying to get information from him/her.  Can’t tell.

Jemma!  There are really a lot of options as to what is going on here.  My big one is Jemma has done something big in a desperate attempt to get Fitz.  Has been captured herself/separated from the others.  Or this is some sort of dream.  Things of note her shirt is different than in other parts of the promo, her jacket is missing, and her hair is down.  

Well this is something right out of Star Trek.  Portal, Wormhole, door to the multiverse kind of thing with a big ship/space station...guessing that is who had/has Fitz and belongs to the baddies.  I do believe the little ship there is the Zephyr.  Other option is something not so good comes out of that hole.  Not going to lie...that also REALLY looks like the fear dimension to me as well.  Them going into the fear dimension explaims a few things we see later.

Big white hole = not good.  Yay, the found Enoch (no killing him again) but unless Fitz is injured and still in medbay the baddie still has him.  Also worth noting that Enoch seems to have some blood there on his stomach.

Action Deke!  The Ship looks similar to Quova’s last season.  And I honest to goodness have no idea what Deke is up too here.  Because I was pretty sure he was on earth and no with team Space Fiz Rescue.  This might not be a ship, rather a lab, or part of his business and he’s under attack.  Or its part of some sort of dream sequence. Him rebuilding the Framework has to be back in play as well.

Elena taking on some dude on the Zephyr.  She still has her robotic arms and looks to be on the Zephyr.  So this is either from later in the season when they come back with it, or Mack has a new plane.  This guy is dressed a bit like Darth Coulson is at the end so could be with him.

Not good!  Those kind of look like the Terrigen crystals but aren’t blue enough to me and turn black as the grow.  He’s either been hit with a weapon, 084, or powers.  It seems to start as some kind of sand like substance that causes the crystals to take over.  NOT GOOD whatever this is.

May stabbing the now black crystal monster thing with the special blue crystal thing...now that looks like Terrigen Crystals to me.  This looks like it could be a storeroom at the Lighthouse or a lab they are investigating.  

Daisy took out his friends so head goon here gloats and transports/teleports away.  

I went through this sequence a few times and could never 100% make out who it is.  I think it’s Deke and he’s definitely showing his Fitzsimmons here and working on tech either creating his own or working with some Fitzsimmons had done already.  Davis.  Or a Rando.  The glasses seem to do something interesting.

Now we are going into the train has left the station point of the promo and every screen grab has an OMG WTH is going on thing to it.

Daisy is back in the Lighthouse and the guy in the suit just might be The Doctor.  I zoomed in best my computer could and came up with a solid “looks like him but can’t be 100% sure”.  If the white hole of doom from above is indeed the Fear Dimension this could easily be the Doctor showing up again.  

FEELS AGAIN!  I don’t think Jemma is freezing herself.  I think she is just trying to comfort herself by placing herself where Fitz was at some point.  There is blood on the window so at some point there was a struggle around the pod.  Perhaps from when Fitz was taken.

My guess is this is at the Museum before it all goes to pot.  Redshirt there is sooo dead.

We have here what I have dubbed “All the bad things Jemma”.  She has a mix of her Maveth and Slave costumes on here.  A common denominator for me were times she was separated from and thought she’d never see Fitz again.  Other HUGE notes. You can see the reflection of a Shield symbol in the glass but not the one Mack is using.  And the dude she’s about to shove through the glass is dressed like something Season 1 Fitz would have worn....so I think we got a grab of the doubles.

She shoves him through the glass and h’es now on the Zephyr in a new costume.

Yay, another double. Either way I believe its meant to be ‘a’ version of Fitz.  Be it thanks to the fear dimension or we’ve gone multiverse.

I do think its a better chance this is Fitz and just got grabs of the doubles.

The baddies have a big truck and are making quite the get away.  I also believe this is from the museum and Shield will fail to stop them from getting what they went after.

If the casting call from the beggining of the Season was accurate I do believe this will be butterfly.  Weapon of choice is knives but won’t be shocked if she doesn’t have powers as well and she’s facing down with May here.  Possibly at the Museum or womehwere else.  If the actress looks familiar its Brook Williams from 12 Monkies.

Giant dude with smoke coming out his nose....yeah not good either.  Guessing he’s with Butterfly (Jaco).  Possibly Darth Coulson.

This dude has a phaser laser gun so yeah not good either.  Think this guy is with Butterfly and Mr. Giant (Jaco and Pax).  The building reminds me of “deke’s Place that we saw in some BTS pics.  So these guys are either after Deke or something he has be it tech of his star chart.

Mack getting Deke out.  There is blood on his side so Deke has been injured or was trying to help someone else who was.  You can also see some sort of ID Badge on Deke earlier in this sequence so looks like he’s working at some sort of lab.

So there was indeed something crazy powerful in there and the big old truck comes out of this. Anyone else have Independance Day Vibes?

“You’re from Shield”

“Never heard of it.”

HELLO DARTH COULSON!   Gotta love a theory hit.

So still no idea HOW Darth Coulson is in the mix here, if we have some sort of clone, reserrection, or dark universe where Shield doesn’t exist.  Whoever is speaking to him knew Coulson to be Shield so is possibly someone we’ve seen before.  His outfit looks a lot like what the terrible trio have on too so my guess is we will see him working with them.

Well that was long, my computer is lagging trying to write this now its so big.  More in depth analysis, theories and metas to come.  Still have a question, send an ask.

[modern-victoria]

As swift as this is love

Chapter twenty-three of my Quakerider Fantasy AU

Read it on ao3

“We’re seriously outmanned!” Fitz exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration. “Even with all your bannermen, Hydra and Eli’s mercenaries are too much for us!”

“Hydra was already a problem for us, that’s why we made the deal with Eli in the first place,” Phillip said, his brow furrowed.

“Any word from our neighbouring kingdoms?”

“The messengers have been sent out, your majesty, but we still haven’t heard from them yet,” Captain Mace answered.

“It’s been almost two weeks! We’re hitting them in too small doses.”

“We don’t have more, your majesty.” Fitz said. “The moment they attack us at full-strength we’re done.”

“There must be something we can do?” Daisy moved from her spot against the wall towards the marble war table. The map of Zephyr kingdom laid on it, pieces of wood with carvings upon it, representing the different armies.

“They’ve got those fire-benders too…” Fitz trailed off. He looked pensively for a moment, his eyes darting around the room as he scoured his mind for a solution. “We have one too. If I take a good look at it, maybe I can recreate it?”

“No, Fitz.” The king shut him down. “It’s inhumane. They may be monsters, but we’re not.”

“What about-” Fitz nodded his head from Daisy to Robbie, still leaning against the wall, to finish his question. Daisy followed his gaze at the same time Robbie looked up.

“What about me?”

“I mean, we’ve all seen what you can do and still no one talks about it.”

“Fitz.” Daisy warned him.

He ignored her. “Plus he’s your uncle.”

“Fitz!” Daisy walked in front of him, blocking his view of Robbie. “Robbie is my husband! He’s the prince of Zephyr kingdom! He has as much resentment towards his uncle as we do, maybe even more. They were family and he betrayed him. If you doubt his loyalty, or if you want to use him as an asset, don’t. I won’t let you!”

Fitz shook his head, then scrunched his face. Rubbing his temple with his palms he quickly apologised. “I’m sorry, your highness. I never meant to-”

“It’s okay, Fitz.” Robbie walked up to him. “I’m still a stranger to the most of you, plus the fact that my head can light on fire, it’s normal that you distrust me.”

Daisy laid her hand protectively on his arm. “Robbie.” She whispered only for him to hear.

After a quick look at her, he continued to Fitz. “I swear I will do anything to stop my uncle. But the thing inside me, I wouldn’t count too much on it. It’s uncontrollable.”

“I know we’re all tired of fighting, but we can’t let this break Zephyr Kingdom. King Fury came to this land to start something new, something better. His old land had been overrun by war and death. We won’t let the same happen to our home.” King Phillip spoke. “We will hear back from our messengers. They will help us, like we helped them in the past, and then we’ll finally rid this place of war.”

Everyone nodded solemnly, as if they believed their king, but no one really did. So many things could have gotten wrong. Maybe the messengers were killed while travelling. Maybe no one wanted to help. Maybe Zephyr Kingdom has met its end.

As soon as the king left the room together with Captain Mace, Fitz busied himself with his work. The rest of the advisors left soon after, leaving Daisy and Robbie with Trip, Hunter and Bobbi. Hunter, though he was injured, still had a valuable input when it came to warfare. He was also in charge of training the cadets.

“What now?” Trip asked. Since Duke Eli had declared war on them, no one really knew what to do. Daisy preferably went fighting against Eli and his men, but her father forbade it. She was stuck inside the palace, Robbie along with her. He too could feel the tension inside the palace rising. It brought him on edge, and with the Rider inside him, that wasn’t a good thing.

“I don’t know!” Daisy huffed in frustration. “I need to do something! Anything! I can’t keep on training and sparring and playing pretend like there aren’t people dying outside these walls.” She stomped around the War Room angrily.

She stopped.

“Fitz?”

“Yes?”

“Do you really think the neighbouring kingdoms will help? Lady Price? King Talbot?”

“Honestly?”

Daisy bobbed her head up and down.

“No, not really.”

“Why?”

“Last time Zephyr Kingdom worked together with the other kingdoms was more than a hundred years ago. Since then we’ve been living self-sufficient. The other monarchs haven’t been really glad about that. In the end we are a fertile country. We produce more than we consume, but we don’t trade. Your grandfather wanted to create an economy like Wakanda, the kingdom of old.”

“We’ve been living separately on purpose?”

“Unfortunately yes.”

“My father did this on purpose?”

“He believed in his father, thus continued his legacy.”

Daisy nodded understandingly, then turned on her heel and left the room, after uttering a quick thanks.

Robbie, Bobbi, Trip and Hunter followed her, all confused as to what came so sudden over her.

“Where are you going?” Robbie took a few bigger steps to catch up on Daisy.

“To the library.”

“Why?”

“I need paper.” She picked up her pace. “And a quill.”

“You’re going to write them?”

“Yes.”

“What makes you think you’ll change their mind?”

“As the princess I can promise them a better future.”

“Daisy.” Robbie called after her. When she didn’t stop he repeated himself. “Daisy!” He grabbed her arm, forcing her to turn around and look at him.

“What?” Her eyes pierced his. He could see the determination set in them, but he was afraid all of this wouldn’t end well.

“What if it doesn’t work? If they don’t come?”

She stayed silent, her eyes dropping to his chest. He placed his hands on her upper-arms, rubbing his thumbs soothingly against the fabric of her shirt.

“We need to think about other options.”

“There aren’t any.” Her voice trembled.

“We will find them.” His hand rose up to her chin, pushing it slightly up so she’d look at him again, but her eyes still gazed down. “Put me on a battlefield. Alone. And I’ll return victorious.”

“For you,” he added.

Daisy finally looked up at him, searching his face to decipher what he really meant. Her heart fluttered, cracking through the layer of stone she had put around it to keep it from breaking again.

No, she told her heart. She couldn’t. Not now. Not when there was war and she could lose him every second.

Her heart stilled again, but the crack stayed.

“There’s nothing to lose if I send them a message.” She reminded him.

He tilted his head, his eyebrows scrunched up, and looked sadly at her. “I don’t want you to be disappointed if there’s no answer.”

“I need to try.” Her voice was firm. She couldn’t sit one moment longer and do nothing. Even if it wouldn’t work, and Eli would storm the castle and execute everyone in it, at least she’d have tried to do something.

She spun back around and continued her path to the library.

Chapter twenty-two - Chapter twenty-four

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Out Of Time ~ 117

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,300ish

Summary: No summary...... I just hope this chapter makes sense.... it’s a lot of jumping....

“Daisy!” Y/N shouted, Coulson and the others running up behind her. “Daisy!”

“Where did she go?” Coulson asked.

“I don’t…” Black spots filled Y/N’s vision. “I don’t know… Coulson, I…” She reached out to him. “Something’s…” then she fainted.

Y/N woke up on the floor, somewhere. Blinking, long and hard, she pushed herself up and looked around. 

“What the…” she muttered. Y/N quickly realized she was in the Mirror Dimension. “What am I doing back here?” She pushed herself up to the standing position, seeing the Ancient One on the other side. “What is going on?”

“The Stones have asked that I finish your training, since I don’t have much longer,” the Ancient One responded.

“What do you mean by ‘don’t have much longer’?”

“My time is almost up. Which means the time you will be needed will soon follow.”

“I’m not ready. I just… I’m not ready.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Rogers. But you don’t have a choice.”

~~~

SIX MONTHS LATER…

May was waiting for the Zephyr’s ramp to lower, Mack and Coulson walking down it.

“How long has it been?” She asked.

“Six weeks in the air,” Coulson answered. “Only the quinjet touched down.”

“Is that a record for Zephyr One?”

“It is. It was supposed to be even longer. You know who called us in?”

“I do.” She handed them a tablet before leading them away.

“You? Okay. Now I know something’s up. Is it Y/N? Has anything changed?”

“Simmons is carefully monitoring her. We’re lucky that General Talbot’s on our side to keep her here cause the Director is itching to hand her over as a sign of good faith to the government.”

“No news though?” Mack wondered.

“We did see good signs yesterday and this morning. But we’ve seen good signs before.”

“She’s going to wake up soon,” Coulson said with such confidence. “I know it.”

~~~

SIX MONTHS AGO…

“I didn’t have time to explain the nature of the Reality Stone before you needed to use it,” the Ancient One stated. “You are able to change the reality of what people see and what’s been done.”

“Like I did with those agents,” Y/N said.

“Exactly.”

“Which Stone is next, then?”

“We’re not moving onto the next Stone until you’ve mastered the powers you have. It is important that you have mastered them so that you can be at your full strength when the time comes.”

“What if I don’t want to? What if I don’t want to fight? I want to be done fighting…. Fighting has cost me everything… the life I once had, in multiple ways.”

“You weren’t meant to live out life in the 40’s. You were meant to be here and now.”

“I don’t care… I don’t want this anymore.”

“Then I can wait. I still have enough time. And I can keep you here until you’ve decided to come to your senses.”

“You can’t be serious. You can’t keep me here!”

“Oh, but I can.” Then she disappeared, leaving Y/N alone in the Mirror Dimension.

“Oh, come on! Let me go!”

~~~

FOUR MONTHS AGO…

“Are you ready yet?” The Ancient One asked, appearing out of no where.

“You can’t just keep me in here!” Y/N shouted. “I’m not a prisoner!”

“I will keep you in here as long as it takes.”

“Ugh!! How long have I even been in here?!”

“Two months.”

“Two months?! How am I not dead?”

“Your friends, and the Stones, are keeping your body safe. You will be able to return to it, once you have completed the training.”

“I told you, I don’t want this.” Y/N shook her head. “I never wanted this. Can’t the Stones just pick someone else?”

“I’m afraid that’s not how this works.” The Ancient One watched as Y/N paced. “I would have thought that this time alone would be helpful to you.”

“Yeah? In what why?”

“To be able to grieve and morn about the loss of your friends, the life you wished you had, and your child… To be able to forgive yourself and those around you.”

“I have forgiven Steve for fighting Tony. And Tony for fighting Steve. I have forgiven Bucky for killing Howard. I have forgiven them of all their faults, because it wasn’t all theirs… it was mine… I will never be able to forgive myself. I could have tried harder to keep my family from being torn apart, to keep my baby alive! So… there’s no need to forgive everyone else. It’s already done… the only person I will never be able to forgive is myself.”

~~~

NOW…

“Hey, Y/N,” Coulson greeted, stopping by the cell Y/N was being kept in for safe keeping. She was hooked up to many monitors and tubes. “Sorry it’s been so long. The Director’s been keeping me busy.” He chuckled sadly to him as he sat down on a chair beside her bed. “I can only imagine how mad you’re going to be when you find out I stepped down… I just… Between you and Daisy. I couldn’t keep my focus…”

He sighed. “I’m headed to Los Angeles. Trying to hunt her down… she’s a ghost, Y/N. She slips through our fingers every time. I wish… Oh, how I wish things were back to the way they were before. I don’t necessarily know how far I want to go, but just before… Stark keeps contacting me, asking me if I’ve seen or heard anything. I think he knows I’m lying. But I think he understands it’s to protect you.”

“I’m sorry that I can’t spend more time with you. But I do have to go. They… the Director had a shoot to kill order placed on Daisy. I have to go help her some how.” He leaned over, placing a kiss on her forehead. “Please, wake up soon. I don’t know how much longer I can see you like this.”

~~~

TWO MONTHS AGO…

“I’m ready,” Y/N huffed. “Let’s just get this over with… I’ve seen what the Stones can do. I understand how important it is to stop them, if what I’ve seen will happen… I’ll train, I’ll master the powers they want me to. But them I’m out of here.”

“Understood,” the Ancient One responded with a nod. “First, let’s practice what you’ve learned with the Mind, Space, and Reality Stones.”

Y/N and the Ancient One worked to improve her current knowledge of the powers. Especially where it came to losing her energy. It took two weeks before the Ancient One believed she was ready to learn more.

“The Time Stone,” the Ancient One began, showing the Stone that was kept around her neck, “with it you will be able to change time. Not drastically. But up to a few minutes.”

“Like, rewind?” Y/N questioned.

“Exactly. You can focus is it on large areas or just a single object.” She took out an apple and took a few bites of it. She held it out. “Now, try it with this. Bring it back to it’s original state.”

With a deep breath, Y/N held out her hand and focused on the object. Slowly, the bites began to fill back in until the apple was whole again.

“Very good,” the Ancient One praised. “Now bring it back to where it was when I challenged you.”

Y/N nodded before focusing again on the apple. The bites that had disappeared, appeared again.

“Good,” the Ancient One said. “Again.”

The Time Stone took a week to master. It was easier for Y/N since it was with her. The next Stone was the Power Stone.

“This Stone is one of the most destructive forces in the universe,” the Ancient One explained. “If you tried hard enough, you could destroy whole planets.”

“Okay… I don’t think I like that…” Y/N shook her head slightly.

“Channeling it will also enhances your strength and durability during a fight.”

The Ancient One and Y/N fought in order to test her strength and durability. Y/N wished she had been taught to channel that Stone earlier, it would have been of great help. Y/N practiced destroying smaller things, like weapons. The power would come out of her hands in the form of purple beams. She worked on this one for weeks, until the Ancient One finally decided she was ready for the last Stone. The Soul Stone.

“The Soul Stone is the most hidden and unknown out of all the Stones,” the Ancient One stated. “Very few know it’s location, or the powers it possesses. I don’t even know it’s location, but I do know the price it requires to retrieve it.”

“And that is?”

“A soul for a soul… This Stone will allow you to conjure the spiritual representation of those who are dead.”

“What?”

“And it will be them. Not the Stone fooling you.”

“Like… I could see my parents? An-and Howard? And… and my baby?”

“Yes.”

Tears sprung in Y/N’s eyes. “How? How do I do it?”

“This is the one Stone I cannot help you learn how to use. You must learn it yourself.”

“No.” Y/N shook her head. “You must know. Please.”

“I’m sorry… your training is done. It is now time for you to go.”

“No! Please. Just tell me!”

“I have told you everything I know. It is now up to you to find the answers you seek. And the peace you long for.”

“No, wait. Please don’t—“

~~~

PRESENT DAY REALITY…

“Here’s the Mapping-Action Eyewear you requested,” Simmons said to May, carrying a tablet and a container towards her in the training room. “Should help your team in case of a blind takedown.”

“Great,” May replied, taking the container. “Thanks.”

“I need you to sign for it.” Simmons held out the tablet.

May didn’t look pleased. “I don’t get the new color-coded security-level rainbow of… What’s it called?”

“The Spectrum of Security.”

“Why do I, level red, have to go through you, level orange, to request hardware? Shouldn’t red be higher than orange?”

“Well, orange encompasses both red and yellow, so… It’s hard to explain, but the Director didn’t want to use numbers because he didn’t want any team member to feel less than.”

May looked down at the tablet, filling it out. “Well, you do have a higher clearance than me.”

“Only in most instances.”

Not impressed, May handed the tablet back over. “I feel less than.”

Simmons took the tablet as May started to walk away, she followed. “Hey, we just had a report come in. A death in a hospital in Los Angeles.” May turned around. “Suspicious circumstances. Suspect is an Asian female.”

“You think it might be Daisy.”

“I’m going to look into it. I just wondered if you’d heard anything from your law enforcement contacts?”

“I’m mostly in the dark these days. Why don’t you ask the Director? Since you’re one of the few people allowed or willing to do that.”

“May—“ Simmons was halted by an alarm going off on her phone. Looking down, her eyes widened. “It’s Y/N.”

May and Simmons ran down to the cell, where Y/N’s monitors were going crazy. As they grew closer, they noticed tears slipping down her face.

“No…” Y/N mumbled. “Please… wait… don’t go!”

“What’s happening?” May asked.

“I think she’s waking up,” Simmons said. “Y/N. Y/N, can you hear me?”

“I’m calling Coulson.” May stepped out of the room.

“I was just alerted to the situation,” a man in a suit came in. “How can I help?”

“Director,” Simmons greeted. “There’s nothing I can think of.”

“No… please…” Y/N mumbled. She suddenly shot up, eyes wide and gasping for air. 

“Y/N, Y/N,” Simmons called, trying to get her to calm. 

“Agent Rogers,” the new Director greeted. “I need you to calm down.”

Y/N met Simmons eyes before looking at the stranger in the room. “Who the hell are you?” She breathily asked.

“I’m Jeffrey Mace, the new Director of SHIELD. I’m here to help you and transition you to life with the Sokovia Accords.”

“The… the Accords? Where’s Coulson?” Y/N looked around. “How long have I been out of it?”

“Six months,” Simmons answered.

“S-six months?” Y/N looked to Simmons, who nodded. “And… and you thought that I was going to wake up and just be okay with signing the Accords?” She looked at the new Director.

“You don’t have a choice,” the Director stated. “It’s the law—“

Y/N interrupted with a chuckle. “That’s where you’re wrong… There’s always a choice. Plus… what re you going to do to stop me from leaving and not signing?”

“You should be familiar with this room, Agent Rogers. Your powers cannot be used in this room.”

“I am not an Inhuman. My powers come from other sources. This room has never been able to stop me. Did they not tell you that?”

“Y/N,” Simmons warned. “Just listen, hear him out.”

“No. If Coulson isn’t the Director anymore, then I don’t want to be a part of SHIELD… I’m sorry Jemma. Tell the others good bye for me.”

“Y/N— No!” May shouted, coming back into the room as Y/N opened a portal underneath herself and fell through it. “Damn it!”

“I thought you said this room stops powers?” The Director questioned Simmons. 

“We never said whose powers,” Simmons answered. 

“You just assumed it would work on her,” May added.

“I’ll let General Talbot know she’s gone,” the Director stated. “He’ll get the government searching for her as well.”

next chapter >

NOTES: from now on the taglist when be added by a reblog. I will reblog it using my second account, @just-dreaming-marvel-2​​. Just so that my main page doesn’t get too cluttered.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

[nessnessquik]

But I know one thing: that I love you

A not-exactly-canon-divergent-could-actually-be-canon missing scene from 4x22. Title from Michael Franti & Spearhead's "Say Hey (I love you)"

Inspired by @skylandmountain1013 saying that Melinda’s smile at the diner was suspiciously large and beaming so this happened! (Can’t wait to read her own fic based on this same idea!!)

"But I know one thing: that I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you."

Also on AO3.

“Anybody else hungry? I’m not saying we’re definitely gonna get locked up, but if we are, I wouldn’t mind grabbing a bite to eat first.”

Melinda could feel her smile grow as Phil’s eyes landed on her. The rest of the team nodded and glanced at each other, little smiles on their faces as they slowly started making their way toward the Zephyr. Mack grasped Fitz’s shoulder, unable to speak but communicating just the same, then he and Elena stayed by him as they walked through the remains of their base. Jemma drifted to the other side of the young engineer, her hand slipped into his for a brief moment to give a comforting squeeze. Daisy led them all, with Phil and Melinda bringing up the rear.

Melinda’s whole body ached with exhaustion, but watching the team surround Fitz as they left the base left a warm feeling in her heart. She meant what she said to him--they were going to shoulder this burden together.

As a team.

As a family.

Melinda glanced at Phil, who walked a mere arm’s length away from her as they boarded the plane. It was as if he sensed she was still feeling weak and wanted to be close enough to support her if she needed it. Melinda remembered how many times he’d hovered over her since they’d escaped the Framework. She remembered the feeling of his arms wrapped tight around her, setting her down as gently as his own unused muscles were able, the feeling of his hand cupping her head gently after she’d collapsed from her fight with the android. She knew they’d made a deal to take a couple steps back, but she would be lying to herself if she didn’t acknowledge how comforting his touch was to her, how safe it made her feel, and how she wished he would hold her again.

Melinda slid into her pilot’s chair and entered coordinates for a town close enough that the Zephyr could make it, but secluded enough that the townspeople hopefully wouldn’t recognize her or her teammates immediately.

She didn’t turn her head, but instantly recognized the sound of Phil’s footsteps as he entered the cockpit. Melinda busied herself with the controls while he seemed to have an internal debate on whether to stay with her or not. His words echoed in her head:

“Then, when it feels right, maybe we open another bottle.”

“Deal.”

“Deal. See you on the other side.”

Finally, Phil seemed to come to a decision as he slipped into the seat beside her. But he remained still and silent, elbows resting on his knees with his hands clasped together.

Surprisingly, Melinda was the one to break the quiet. “Daisy spoke well earlier, don’t you think?”

Phil nodded, his face softening. “She did.”

Melinda switched the plane to auto pilot and sat back in her chair. “Reminded me of someone--can’t think of who, though.”

Phil looked over at her and the two of them shared a lingering smile before Melinda stood, crossing her arms automatically.

“We’ll touchdown in 20 minutes. Is the team all together downstairs?”

Phil nodded and got up quickly beside her. The confined space left little room between the two, and Melinda could practically feel the air crackling with tension.

“May, about our deal earlier,” Phil spoke quickly, as if he had to get it out before he lost his courage. “What if--I mean, suppose we do end up getting caught at this diner, and then let’s say a whole new mess ensues after that-”

Melinda shifted closer to him, feeling the edge of his jacket brush against her arm as she looked into his eyes. “I think we can safely assume that there will always be another ‘thing’ that we’ll be pulled into.”

“Right, so what I’m saying is,” Phil paused again and then sighed, his shoulders deflating. “I don’t know what I’m saying. I probably shouldn’t have said anything.”

Melinda’s lips quirked up into a smile, even as her stomach knotted with nervousness. She reached out and grasped Phil’s hand, observing as he looked down in surprise, then looked back at her. His eyes pleaded for him to understand his meaning.

“I know we agreed to take a few steps back, and that’s fine. I think we should. But I just need you to know,” Phil brought up his other hand to gently touch her cheek. “I need you to know, Melinda. Before something else happens.”

“I know.” Melinda whispered. And she did. She knew how much he cared about her. She knew he wanted to say it, but didn’t know how. She knew that he wanted to move forward with her, but something was always going to come up.

Melinda recalled Robbie’s last words to Phil, “I don’t envy you.” She would have to ask him about that later, but for now, Melinda wanted Phil to know how she felt too.

She searched Phil’s eyes for a moment longer, then released his hand and slipped it around his neck instead, drawing him down to press her lips to his. Melinda felt him sigh as his arm found its way around her waist, bringing her closer to his body. She felt tingles spread all over her body as he deepened their kiss, and she had to remind herself that this was real, this was actually happening. Phil loved her and she loved him back, and there was always going to be another crisis, but at least they knew.

Phil gradually pulled away from her, leaving softer, lighter kisses on the corner of her mouth, her cheek, her ear. He felt Melinda grip the front of his jacket as he pulled her into a hug.

“But I didn’t even get a chance to buy you a new bottle of haig.” Phil said, his breath a little uneven. Melinda could hear his grin.

“Don’t worry, I don’t plan on letting you forget about it.” Melinda smiled into his chest.

“You know, I think this is the first time we’ve all been together in a really long time.”

She turned to him and smiled, then nodded as she looked around at her family. Her heart was full.

Melinda laughed quietly at Phil’s eager response to the question of pie, and he turned his head toward her, eyes warm and lips upturned. His finger brushed her knee lightly...then the room went dark.

It was apparently too much to ask for the moment to last.

“Here we go.”

[ruffoverthinksthings]

I've thoroughly enjoyed the Claudine/Frollo headcannons, do you have any in mind for Esmeralda/Phoebus? If the sequel movies are wiped from this universe, that means their son doesn't exist (or not yet). Also, do you have another headcannon for onesided fresme on frollo's part? How would he handle being unable to obtain her in this universe?

Ilike to believe the sequels and spin-offs are valid, as the bookseries (which is, as of the Rise of the Isle of the Lost, is canon…to a certain extent) makes reference to characters that could onlyexist outside of the original movies, such as:

Diegode Vil, presumably the child of Ivy de Vil from the 101 DalmatiansTV series, or a descendant from the rest of the extended de Vilfamily, and

Jade,Jay’s cousin and presumably the daughter of Nasira, Jafar’ssister from the Aladdin video game series

There’sa level of personal bias, with the amount of work I’ve already putinto expanding the world with my own ideas, but I think we can allagree that the Isle and Auradon would be a whole lot less interestingif we didn’t have the likes of:

Mozenrath(Aladdin animated series) acting as Maleficent’s longsuffering middle manager, and personal chew toy as an “inferiormagical being,”

LadyWaltham (Tarzan animated series) adding an element of sympathyto the Isle of the Lost with her regretting her brother Clayton andher nephew are still on there and unable to return, and

LadyCaine (Tangled: Before Ever After), who adds a deliciouselement of grayness and a MASSIVE stain on the otherwise pristinereputation all sympathetic Disney monarchs have.

Ontothe headcanons:

Phoebusbecomes one of the new Captains of the Guard in France once theoriginal forces are merged with, or completely replaced by the newlyestablished Auradon Royal Guard. Though the actual administrative andexecutive power lies much higher up the ranks (such as theCommander-In-Chief, Beast), he himself is an incredibly influentialmember, well-known and well-loved by the citizenship and the fellowsoldiers he patrols the streets with.

Auradonhad to rely heavily on translators, human and machine, or translatingmagic during its tumultuous first years, as everyone struggled tofind one common language for every state to use as the internationalstandard (it’s English still). A LOT of things get lost intranslation or don’t translate too good into another language, orsomeone gets VERY offended when someone who is fluent in both Frenchand Chinese tells you exactly what they meant, and howunflattering it is.

Andthis isn’t even going into all the numerous cultural clashes andfaux paus, such as one unfortunate Louisiana chef realizing you’renot supposed to serve pork to most Agrahbans until he was alreadyuncovering the dish...

Phoebusbridges the gap through his calm, professional demeanor, alwaysshowing politeness and civility to everyone whoever they may be, andof course, his sense of humour, given “a real workout” when hehas to figure out how to make someone laugh with universallyunderstood comedy (someone falling face first into a pile of horsedung), non-verbal humour (wearing a silly, pink, fuzzy bunny earswhilst on duty), and using simple plays on word that foreigners caneasily get, or are tailored specifically to their language.

“Inever quite realized eggs could be such a huge source of humour,”he muses when he has to speak to Spanish speaking citizens.

However,his usefulness quickly dwindled as the culture clashes settled down,people started learning English, and of course, the already olderPhoebus found himself growing ever older and unable to keep up withthe rapid pace of advancement and pop culture references in Auradon,not to mention his disadvantage of “not being gifted a smartphonefor my first birthday.”

Hehas an incredibly cushy administrative position that pays well,commands respect from his soldiers still, and gives him great hoursto spend with his family and other pursuits, but as he’s no longergoing out (or being allowed) on patrols and interacting personallywith the people in his jurisdiction, he can’t help but wonder ifhe’s just being eased into the idea of retirement, and Auradon issimply too nice to boot him for the much feared “chainsaw HR” ofsome corporations from BGU London.

(Forthose not familiar with the term, “chainsaw HR” is when entiredivisions, and numbers into the hundreds are suddenly, and oftentimeswithout proper recompense or retirement packages, fired or forcedinto early retirement.

It’sa play on the term “axed” for being suddenly fired, and chainsawsbeing a modern, much more efficient tool for the same job as aliteral ax.)

It’ssafe to say that at the age of 55 or so, and having already lived oneillustrious career then a brief revival, he’s having a midlifecrisis, not helped by the fact that many other Auradonians about hisage are feeling as obsolete as last year’s ayGem.

(“Butit came out just a year ago!”

“Yeah,but they updated to a new, much better firmware and hardwarearchitecture, all the hot new apps don’t even bother with legacyupdates.”)

Esmerelda has fared much better.

Shehas become an activist in this world, using the power of theinternet, the normalization of the “other,” and the erasure ofthe national and ethnic boundaries that once separated communities tohelp her fellow Romani people (I won’t use “gypsies,” as that’san offensive term to them), and other marginalized, and forgottengroups, such as much of the Wild Fae population.

Shealso owns and teaches at a dance studio, using them to train the nextgeneration of performers (“Be they for the street, the stage, orthe screen”), and waging a subtle campaign to remove the stigma forblatant and shameless use of sexuality.

I’vealways known Auradon is a conservative wet dream in many respects,and the fact that ripping a tiny tear in your skirt is considered“scandalous” by teenagers says a lot.

Beforeyou ask, YES, Esmerelda is still as desired and lusted afternow as she was BGU—probably even more so, now that we have thecombined populations of all the states, and she is a very popular andcommon presence on the internet.

Beforeyou also ask, Phoebus has long gotten over it and considers it “partof the package.”

Sheis one of the most knowledgeable and well-versed with moderntechnology out of the “Travellers” (Auradonians who were adultsor close to it Before Great Uniting), seeing as her troupe ofperformers have always been highly adaptable and all to ready to dowhatever it takes to survive, fit in with the locale they have foundthemselves in, and afterwards, thrive.

Thatthey have generally relied on being couriers and brokers ofinformation, and the internet basically being a giant free market ofinformation has helped GREATLY.

Withher religion, she still isn’t 100% on the existence of God, onlyever praying to Him during times of crisis or as a show of good faithwith the religious institutions of Auradon, but the Greek Pantheonhas given her hope that Supreme Beings like Him do exist.

“Atthe very least, He’s been very light on throwing down lightningbolts from up on high.”

(Thoughmuch less murderous and many other negative traits than the original,Disney Zeus is still INCREDIBLY fond of “warning shots.”)

Andonce more, before you ask, I can seriously see her making a cameo inthe canon as a guest dance instructor for the Descendants, if sheisn’t already a full-time staff member of Auradon Prep, and yes,she would definitely mentor Evie by showing her much healthier waysof expressing her sexuality and femininity without feeling like she’sdegrading herself, or turning herself into a “slab of meat in thebutcher’s window.”

Zephyrwas born BGU, and if my idea that the states had been communicatingfor a few years before the idea of fusing is canon, has a veryunique perspective of being a “Traveler Tot,” living with theideas and concepts imported over through the portals andcommunication crystals, before he got to live it in Auradon when thetechnology and materials could be more easily accessed and produced.

Heis still hyperactive and excitable as ever, though most of that wasbeing channeled into a combination of soldier training and becoming acircus performer like his parents; in his mind, there really isn’tmuch difference between the two, as they both require incrediblephysical skill and endurance, a sharp and creative mind, andrelentless, dedicated training, day-in, day-out.

“Itall really comes down to what you mean when you say you ‘slayedthem,’” he says.

Thisquickly changes in Auradon when he finds himself addicted to HeroRising, the video game that Carlos was seen playing during hisfirst night in Auradon. While initially Phoebus sees it as a good wayfor him to blow off all his excess energy and get some physicaltraining done, and Esmerelda tolerates it as he’s not going offstealing and rearranging stop signs, it evolves into something muchmore for him in time.

Atfirst, he’s the best player on the block, then in theneighbourhood, then the school, then the city, then the state, andfinally, one of the Hall of Famers in Auradon. As he grows older, hejust barely passes his high school subjects as a conditional for hissponsors support and working with the Hero Rising developersas a PR person, community idol AKA a “Paragon,” and beta tester.The height of his fame and success comes when the latest release,Hero Rising: The Lost Legion, features a new playablecharacter based off of him, and his unique dance-like fighting style:

“Twister.”

Trueto the name, his life is sent into a spin cycle after that.

Afew years pass, a new Hero Rising is released, and everyone isgushing over the new characters, and Twister gives up his place onthe cover art alongside the series “cornerstones” to give them achance to shine.

NewParagons are brought in as the old guard goes off to college, retiresfrom the business into different, less-demanding pursuits, or isquietly given a send-off as they simply aren’t as salable nor asgood as they were a few years ago.

Zephyrquickly realizes that while he’s still got it, these new kids areinsane, and have so many advantages he didn’t, like muchbetter nutrition, a much more generous school schedule, and havingthe infrastructure, the audience, and the sponsors for Hero RisingParagons already there, rather than helping spearhead them.

Hecontinues on, making less and less public appearances, awkwardlybeing one of the only adult Paragons in crowds increasingly filledwith little kids and teenagers, and new characters based off the newParagons get the spotlight.

“Everyonealready knows Twister, and played him to death in all the specialinstance maps, the players want someone new!”

Thedeath-knell of his career and the cold, hard slap from Reality comeswhen Twister is removed from the roster due to development costs, andthe fact that Zephyr’s fees and royalties were considered too highfor the relatively lower cost of a new, fresh face who the fans aremuch more eager to see digitized.

Heand Phoebus both find themselves facing obsolescence, being leftbehind by a world that has simply moved too fast for them and leftthem in its dust, as they were only ever good at one thing each:fighting, either real bad guys or fictional ones.

Andso, with Esmerelda’s love and support, the two go off to reeducatethemselves and train in the new industries and careers Auradondemands, incidentally becoming the inspiration for the blockbusterfeel good movie of eight years from this time of writing:

“WithHonours”

Thestory of how a father and son went back to college, forced to startfrom scratch in a brand new world, learning new tricks, makingstrange friends, and doing a whole lot of growing up they didn’tknow they still needed to do.

Nowonto Frollo:

Helaments his permanent loss of Esmerelda (unlike the other Villains,he harbours no fantasies of Claudine getting him off the Isle—notwhen there’s still so much Good Work to be done here in this landof Sinners and Nonbelievers), and takes the disastrous results of hisobsession and lusting after her as a cautionary tale, the catastrophethat befalls those who turn away from God and the Right Path, and howthey take the whole world down with them.

Publicly,he is “that” preacher yelling about modesty, the sanctity ofmarriage and sexuality, and how pretty much everyone on theIsle is damned for engaging in such scandalous, salacious acts likepremarital sex, sexual intercourse without the intention ofprocreation, and of course, homosexuality.

Privately,he seeks a form of redemption by raising a good, Christian child inClaudine, the child he would have born with Esmerelda and raised ifcircumstances had been different (yeee-eep), and is looking for awoman with whom he can have a much healthier relationship with, toshow someone from this Isle what marriage and the word “love”truly means than the perversion the Islanders have turned it into.

Asboth Claudine and Not Esmerelda will attest to, he’s failedmiserably on both counts, but as usual, is blissfully unaware ofeither.

[democratsunited-blog]

Don't Believe the Media Hype. Progressives Are Struggling in New York Races. – InsideSources

https://uniteddemocrats.net/?p=7603

Don't Believe the Media Hype. Progressives Are Struggling in New York Races. – InsideSources

There’s a fierce battle being waged nationwide for the soul of the Democratic Party. Is it the the party of Andrea Ocasio-Cortez and Bernie Sanders; self-styled Democratic Socialists fighting to reverse income inequality, proliferate the tenets of social justice, and empower workers? Or is it the party of Hillary Clinton and, say, Dianne Feinstein: pragmatic moderates and liberals tacking to the center–business friendly, socially liberal but inoffensive–in an effort to create a big tent party and attract moderates and independents to their cause?

This dynamic was on full display in June, when Rep. Joe Crowley, the fourth ranking Democrat in the House, was unseated by Andrea Ocasio-Cortez. Cortez, a Democratic Socialist and a political neophyte, alleged that Crowley failed to adequately represent his constituents as an establishment liberal and a party power broker. The voters agreed, handing Ocasio-Cortez the nomination with a surprisingly strong 15-point margin of victory, though in a low turnout primary.

Now, a slate of progressive candidates are trying to recreate Ocasio-Cortez’s success on the state level in the primary on September 13th. But, despite how it may appear, and despite how progressives may frame it, that same ideological clash just doesn’t seem to have materialized in the state primary.

In the gubernatorial primary, Cynthia Nixon, an actress of Sex and the City fame is, like Ocasio-Cortez, making her first run at public office. She is challenging two-term incumbent Andrew Cuomo. Nixon is trying to flank Cuomo from the left and, in somewhat similar form to Ocasio-Cortez, making the race a referendum on what she claims is his relatively moderate governing style as she also points to the corruption scandals surrounding his administration. “The Nixon campaign has been arguing that Cuomo has been johnny come-lately on a lot of issues,” says SUNY New Paltz government professor Gerald Benjamin. One prominent example of this is Cuomo’s opposition to Donald Trump.

In 2017, Cuomo was seen as something of a relative soft-liner on opposing the Trump administration. But as election season has heated up, so to have Cuomo’s excoriations of the president. Now he is widely seen as one of Trump’s fiercest critics. But that, it seems, was more a product of opportunism than ideology.

Benjamin posits that, at first, Cuomo may have seen Trump as something of a political asset, if not an outright ally. “A Governor [of New York] might think, even though they’re from different parties, ‘it might be useful to have a President from New York,” he says. This is in line with the attitudes of many who saw Trump as something of a moderate in the 2016 election. But like those voters, Cuomo sees that Trump is governing hyper-conservatively. Now, Benjamin says, “It’s almost as if he’s running against the president for governor.”

Jim Battista, a professor of political science at SUNY Buffalo and an expert on New York State politics, notes that while resistance to Trump could explain a lot of Cuomo’s recent policy shifts, it could also be attributed to Nixon’s influence. “The past year or so has seen Cuomo adopting some more liberal positions on a raft of issues,” he says, but “it’s more-or-less impossible to know how much of that is to counterpressure Nixon and how much is just that he’s been taking a more combative and clearly liberal or progressive attitude since Trump’s election.”

Nixon has taken firmly progressive stances on everything from education to housing to drug laws. She has made transportation a cornerstone of her campaign, hammering Cuomo on recent MTA calamities such as 2017’s “summer of hell,” a period fraught with delays, track fires and complete apathy towards New York’s transportation system. She has even gone so far as to align herself with the emerging Democratic Socialist movement. Put simply, she is doing everything she can to make herself the left-wing alternative to Cuomo.

But Cuomo was already widely seen as not only one of the most liberal governors in the United States, but also a pretty good ideological representative of New York voters. The New York electorate is liberal, no doubt, but they’re not quite Vermont liberal. Progressivism in the vein of Bernie Sanders doesn’t tend to play well in New York City, the heart of New York’s Democratic population. Many of those voters are black and hispanic: demographic groups which tend to be more moderate than progressive. Battista points out that “Democratic Socialists seem to be a substantially whiter party than the Democrats overall.” For that reason, Sanders-style progressivism and Democratic Socialism only really plays in the sparsely populated rural, and predominantly white, areas of upstate New York.

Nixon is also a pretty weak candidate, and probably isn’t the best standard-bearer for progressivism in New York. She has been bashed for a lack of substantial experience in government or management of any kind. Those criticisms, the ideological makeup of New York and the difficulty of unseating an incumbent, especially one as powerful as Cuomo, have made it difficult for her to make a dent in the polls.

According to a recent poll by Siena Research Institute, an Albany research firm, Cuomo leads Nixon by a factor of two-to-one, 60 percent to 29 percent–meaning the election could be more media hype than a genuinely close race. Unsurprisingly, Cuomo’s strongest numbers come from self-identified “moderates,” while Nixon is strongest with liberals. Cuomo also holds a resounding lead in NYC and the NYC suburbs, which tend to favor establishment candidates, and Black and Latino voters. Nixon’s strength is among white voters and those in the more rural upstate areas. At the end of the day, however, Cuomo still holds healthy leads in every category.

The story doesn’t change much when you look down-ballot.

Several candidates have lined up to replace acting Attorney General Barbara Underwood. Underwood stepped into the top job after the resignation of her predecessor, Eric Schneiderman, following a New Yorker report of his alleged sexual abuse of several women. Three of the four major candidates running to are women. This race, though somewhat more competitive than the gubernatorial race, is still pretty much decided against the candidate furthest to the left.

The leader of the pack is New York City Public Advocate Letitia James, a black woman who was handpicked by Cuomo and has garnered the endorsements of powerful politicians and public officials across the state. She is facing Sean Patrick Maloney, the first openly gay Congressman from the New York and a Hudson Valley moderate who ran for Attorney General back in 2006 (full disclosure: I interned for Maloney several years ago); Zephyr Teachout, a Fordham Law Professor who previously challenged Cuomo in the 2014 gubernatorial primary and who ran for Congress in 2016; and Leecia Eve, an attorney and ex-aide to Cuomo and Senator Hillary Clinton, from Buffalo.

The Siena poll shows James leading with 25 percent, followed by Maloney with 16 percent, Teachout with 13 percent and Eve with just 4 percent. James, like Cuomo, is strongest amongst moderates and conservatives, NYC residents, and voters of color. Maloney leads narrowly among suburban, upstate and white voters, while Teachout is nearly tied with James among liberals and with Maloney among white voters. 42 percent are still undecided.

Teachout is clearly the most progressive of the three candidates. She is running the most heavily anti-Trump campaign, while advocating strongly for campaign finance reform. She is cross-campaigning with Nixon and Ocasio-Cortez. She is hampered a bit by the fact that a significant portion of her donations have come from outside New York State, as well as the fact that she has run for so many offices in so short a time. As Benjamin puts it: “She seems to want to run for anything that’s available.”

Like Nixon, Teachout suffers from a lack of support outside rural, upstate communities. “You can’t have a win as a Democrat with an upstate-based strategy,” says Benjamin, “You got to hunt where the ducks are.” In this case, the ducks, Democratic voters, are heavily clustered in New York City.

Maloney has run into a similar demographic problem. His moderate reputation and a massive $3 million war chest have allowed him to make inroads with the affluent communities of Long Island and the lower Hudson Valley, but that’s about as far as a moderate–who has voted with Trump 34% of the time–can get in New York. Maloney has also failed to get significant in-state endorsements due to the fact that he’s been working on the federal level. Both he and Teachout seem to be shut out of the New York City game.

Contrast that with James, who, thanks to Cuomo’s backing, has racked up endorsements from of a wide network of powerful politicians, unions, and party organizations across the state. Both she and Cuomo were easily nominated to get on the primary ballot at the state Democratic convention back in May, winning 85% and 95% of delegates respectively. Also like Cuomo, James has higher name recognition than her opponents and is popular in New York City thanks to her work as a solidly liberal Public Advocate. With pretty solid polling leads, it seems that, barring any unforeseen events, she and Cuomo will cruise to victory on primary day.

While this race could be looked upon with an ideological lens, the takeaway would ultimately be that progressivism isn’t ready for prime time in urban states. Perhaps New Yorkers just aren’t ready for Vermont-style politics.

Read full story here

[hellofastestnewsfan]

NEW YORK—Technically, the headquarters of Zephyr Teachout’s campaign to be New York’s next attorney general are in a former doctor’s office in Spanish Harlem, a drab ground-floor storefront where the Fordham University law professor plots electoral strategy, lawsuits, and prosecutions.

But the heart of her bid—metaphorically, politically, substantively—is about three miles south, on the sidewalk across from Trump Tower. It is there where Teachout launched her campaign in June, and it is the president’s business empire that she wants to investigate, prosecute, and even dissolve if the voters of New York make her the state’s chief law-enforcement officer this fall.

“Donald Trump’s businesses are here,” Teachout explained on a recent Tuesday morning. “What the New York attorney general can do, and as attorney general I’ll make a priority, is investigating those businesses. That power extends to, in the case of extreme illegality, dissolving businesses.”

Teachout, 46, was sitting in an exam room that was empty except for a metal desk and a pair of chairs. The medical business that had previously occupied the office had apparently vacated the suite so quickly, she explained, that one of her aides found a lab coat hanging on a door when they moved in.

The attorney general’s race had begun just as hastily two months earlier. Until this spring, the campaign was expected to be a sleepy reelection for Eric Schneiderman, the 63-year-old Democrat in his second term who had made a national name for himself going after Wall Street banks, payday lenders, fantasy-sports websites, and, of late, Donald Trump and his administration. But Schneiderman abruptly resigned on the evening of May 7, just three hours after The New Yorker reported that four women had accused him of physical assault. It was perhaps the swiftest political downfall in an era—and a state—that has seen plenty of them. And it immediately set off a spirited primary campaign for a statewide post that has served as a launching pad to the governor’s mansion for two of its most recent occupants, Eliot Spitzer and Andrew Cuomo.

Letitia James, the New York City public advocate, quickly threw her name in and earned endorsements from Cuomo and a bevy of powerful Democratic elected officials, unions, and advocacy groups. Teachout, who challenged Cuomo for governor in 2014 and was serving as the campaign treasurer for Cynthia Nixon’s 2018 gubernatorial bid, soon followed, as did Leecia Eve, a former aide to Cuomo and Hillary Clinton. Representative Sean Patrick Maloney, a House Democrat in his third term, joined the race in June, waving aside concerns that his victory could endanger a competitive congressional district for Democrats. The Republican nominee is the Manhattan attorney Keith Wofford, but whichever Democrat wins the party’s September 13 primary will be heavily favored in November.

The Democrats are all, to one degree or another, running on the explicit promise of taking on Trump and protecting New Yorkers from his administration’s conservative policies. They’re seizing on the unexpected opening of a plum elected perch with a big national spotlight, and on the desire of progressive voters—already energized for the midterm congressional elections—to fight the president in whatever way they can. But the attorney general’s race is also caught up in a turbulent New York political moment, one that pits veterans of the state’s Democratic establishment against insurgents trying to push the party to the left.

A shocking insurgent victory in New York

Teachout has won the endorsement of New York’s newest political star, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, the 28-year-old who toppled long-serving Representative Joseph Crowley in a June congressional primary. James, a Brooklyn native who rose to prominence waging progressive fights against power brokers in City Hall, has cast her lot with a governor who appears well positioned to fend off Nixon’s challenge to his reelection to a third term. Maloney is leaning on his experience as a former aide to a president and two New York governors, as well as his success winning, and holding, a congressional seat that once belonged to Republicans.

Both James and Maloney have deeper ties to the state and its entrenched Democratic machine, but Teachout is the candidate of the activist left. And if an outsider’s energy and message can carry the day in New York—not merely in a single congressional district, but in a statewide election—this summer’s wide-open attorney general’s race may be where it happens.

For decades, the New York attorney general’s office had been little more than a glorified consumer-protection bureau, targeting shady landlords and businesses for abusive practices. In the early 2000s, the hard-charging Spitzer raised the profile of the office—and himself—by going aggressively after New York City’s banking industry. He earned himself the moniker the “Sheriff of Wall Street” by forcing major financial firms to shell out billions in fines for defrauding investors. When Spitzer became governor in 2007, Cuomo used the office to resurrect his career after a failed gubernatorial bid in 2002.

Trump’s election in 2016 made national figures out of a group of state attorneys general from blue states who were determined to fight the president and elevate themselves in the process. They became newfound federalists, following a path set by their conservative counterparts during the Barack Obama years who had positioned themselves and their offices as bulwarks against policy emanating from the White House. Joining Xavier Becerra in California, Maura Healey in Massachusetts, Lisa Madigan in Illinois, and others, Schneiderman signed onto lawsuits targeting the Trump administration over immigration, LGBTQ rights, its efforts to undermine the Affordable Care Act, and more.

Schneiderman had already made an enemy of Trump by suing Trump University in 2013, a case that eventually led to a $25 million settlement. And it was his two-year investigation into the Trump Foundation that led his interim successor, Barbara Underwood, to sue the charity in June. The suit alleges a wide array of state and federal crimes, and it seeks to dissolve the foundation and bar Trump and the board of directors from serving on other nonprofit boards in the state.

It is that role—Trump’s Javert in New York—that James, Teachout, Maloney, and Eve are all vying to fill. And none is vowing to pursue the president with quite as much zeal as Teachout. Continuing the lawsuit against his foundation would be only the beginning, she told me. If elected, she would investigate and likely sue the Trump Organization as well, and she would add New York to a lawsuit filed against the president in Maryland and Washington, D.C., that seeks to force him to divest from his businesses. Teachout has already sued Trump as president, joining and advising a case brought against him soon after he took office alleging that he violated the Constitution’s emoluments clause. A federal judge dismissed that suit in December, but the case brought by the states is proceeding.

For weeks earlier this summer, Teachout had called on Cuomo to allow Underwood to launch a criminal investigation—as opposed to just a civil probe—into the Trump Foundation by making a referral required under state law. In a minor victory for her campaign, the governor said he would do so last month.

Teachout told me she would prepare the attorney general’s office to step in if Trump fired Robert Mueller or pardoned associates now under investigation by the special counsel or federal prosecutors in the U.S. attorney’s office in Manhattan. While the president’s pardon power under federal law is virtually unlimited, it does not apply to violations of state law.

Teachout also sees the post as a prosecutor of last resort against Trump himself. When I asked her if she would seek to indict the president for crimes related to his businesses—something Mueller might not even try to do in the collusion and obstruction probe—she told me she wanted to research the question before responding. She called back a few days later. “I want to be super clear,” she told me, “that I am ready to indict if the president broke the law and it looks like he won’t be held accountable.”

Whether the New York attorney general could actually have the impact Teachout is promising is unclear. State laws protecting defendants against double-jeopardy prosecutions could limit her ability to bring cases against pardoned Trump associates, and even she acknowledges that the power of a state attorney general to indict—and prosecute—a sitting president is untested. But she’s betting that in a Democratic primary battle, merely raising the possibility makes for good politics anyway.

This is Teachout’s third campaign for office in New York in the past five years; she garnered a better-than-expected 33 percent against Cuomo in 2014, and lost a congressional race to the Republican John Faso in 2016. But of the three, this may be the job that suits her the best. Teachout began her career as a death-penalty lawyer in North Carolina and now specializes in constitutional and anti-corruption law at Fordham. She wrote a history of corruption in American politics while running for governor against Cuomo, and she previously served as the executive director of the Sunlight Foundation, which advocates for transparency in government. Early last year, she helped the good-government group Citizens for Responsibility and Ethics in Washington file a lawsuit against Trump in federal court that accuses him of violating the Constitution’s emoluments clause by profiting off his businesses while in office.

“I have a deep expertise in this area of law that is now painfully relevant,” Teachout said.

The Trump Organization says it’s “not practical” to comply with the emoluments clause

She has continued to go after Cuomo as well, highlighting the convictions of his top aides on corruption charges, and casting herself as the most independent of the Democrats running for attorney general and the candidate best positioned to help clean up Albany’s long history of graft. Teachout has forsworn donations from corporations, arguing that that will allow her to aggressively go after abuses by major real-estate firms and landlords, health-care companies, polluters, and the other traditional targets of the attorney general’s office.

Her platform isn’t all about Trump. With a nod to Schneiderman’s demise, she has pledged to investigate allegations of sexual misconduct in state government. Ending mass incarceration in New York is another focus. And she has gone beyond Ocasio-Cortez’s early call to “abolish” Immigration and Customs Enforcement by saying she would “prosecute ICE for their criminal acts.” (When the acting ICE director responded to Teachout’s vow on Fox News, her campaign rejoiced.)

But much of Teachout’s agenda—investigating the president’s businesses, corruption in state government, and major New York City real-estate firms—connects back at Trump Tower. “It’s actually related,” she told me. “Because Donald Trump’s criminality comes out of New York City real estate. New York State’s corruption comes out of New York City real estate. The unaffordability of living in New York City come[s] out of New York City real estate.”

Teachout stands a much better chance of becoming attorney general than she did of becoming governor four years ago. But despite her higher profile and appeal among progressive activists, she is not the favorite in the Democratic primary. If there’s a frontrunner, it is Tish James, the 59-year-old former Brooklyn councilwoman who since 2014 has served as New York City’s public advocate. The elected post is akin to an ombudsman for the city; it comes with little actual power, but its occupants have used the perch as a soapbox to spotlight issues, propose laws, and raise their profiles on the way to higher office.

Until the evening of May 7, James’s next run for office was likely to be a 2021 bid to become the first woman—and only the second African American—to lead the nation’s largest city. But then The New Yorker story about Schneiderman published online. She told me she was sitting down to appetizers at a diner that night when she learned that Cuomo had called on the attorney general to resign. By dessert, Schneiderman was out.

“All of a sudden, my phone went crazy. It just blew up,” James recalled. By the next morning, she was running for attorney general.

Before her election to the City Council in 2003, James had worked as a lawyer for years—first as a public defender for the Legal Aid Society, then for the state legislature and Governor Mario Cuomo’s administration, and later as a high-ranking official in the attorney general’s office under Spitzer. She began our interview by listing the many areas of overlap between her work as public advocate and what she’d continue to do, with more authority, as attorney general: policing Wall Street, targeting abusive landlords and predatory lending, defending immigrants in New York against the Trump administration’s crackdown. “The attorney general has to be an activist, has to be on ground, has to have a grassroots background,” James told me.

Politically, it’d be hard for an opponent to get to James’s left: She was the first candidate to win an election in New York on the liberal Working Families Party line, and she waged fights at City Hall on behalf of poor tenants, victims of domestic and gun violence, and people of color disproportionately affected by the police department’s “stop-and-frisk” policy—those who, in her words, had been “invisible for far too long.”

It is that record of activism, and that connection with voters in New York City, that James is leaning on to distinguish herself from Teachout, who grew up in rural Vermont, practiced law in North Carolina, and has never held public office. James’s allies frequently note that Teachout is not admitted to the New York bar. (Teachout told me that that will be fixed by the election.)

“Zephyr has never represented anyone but herself,” Harlem Assemblywoman Inez Dickens told me. “How she can represent an entire state like New York—ethnically, racially—it’s impossible. She’s never done it before.” (In response to Dickens, Teachout cited her early career work on death-penalty cases: “I represented the most hated people in society,” she told me.)

James has said she would continue the lawsuit against the Trump Foundation and wants the state legislature to give the attorney general power to bring criminal prosecutions without the governor’s sign-off. But she has focused more broadly on the Trump administration’s policies—on women’s rights, immigration, gun violence, and the environment—than on the president himself. And she has stressed her relationships with other powerful Democrats in New York to argue that a concerted effort by the entire state government to push back on the White House would be more effective than the attorney general doing so by herself.

James is benefitting from the support of Cuomo, the Democratic state committee, and several powerful unions, all of which are helping her raise money and could make the difference in what is expected to be a low-turnout primary on September 13. But at a moment when progressive voters are turning away from insiders, that establishment backing could also be a burden.

“I definitely think she opened the door for Zephyr to claim that outsider mantle,” said Christina Greer, a political-science professor at Fordham who is neutral in the race. James is also supporting Cuomo’s reelection against the challenge from Nixon and has repeatedly defended the governor’s record and rhetoric against criticism from the left. “Obviously this is a strategic choice that she is well within her rights to make,” Greer said. “But some people see it as abandoning her progressivism.”

James dismissed the suggestion she had compromised her independence. “I’m not going to change how I view the world, or how I feel, or my passion simply because this governor decided to support me,” she told me. “I am not going to surrender my progressive credentials to anyone. I refuse. I will always be a champion for change and for progressive causes in the city and in the state. I will not back down from any fight.” She shifted her focus to the Republican in the White House: “What I am is a street fighter, and that’s the only thing that Donald Trump respects and understands.”

Teachout called on her opponents to join her in rejecting donations from the corporations they would be overseeing. But James told me she would not “unilaterally disarm,” citing the long-documented challenges that African American women candidates have had in raising money. “I’m not prepared to unilaterally disarm because I will be disadvantaged,” she said, calling for campaign-finance reform that would put all candidates on equal footing. In the first filing period of the campaign, James raised twice as much money as Teachout, $1.1 million to $550,000.

James is expected to be dominant in New York City, where minority voters make up the bulk of the Democratic primary electorate. She is not well known upstate, and that’s where Teachout surprised Cuomo with a strong showing in 2014.

Andrew Cuomo meets the frustrated left

Two early polls of the race show James in the lead with around one-quarter of the Democratic vote, and with Maloney and Teachout bunched close together about 10 points behind. Eve lags further back in fourth. But with more than four in 10 respondents in both polls undecided, the race remains wide open.

The wild card is Maloney, who has drawn criticism from Democrats—and a lawsuit from Republicans—for running simultaneously for attorney general and for reelection to his House seat in a competitive district north of New York City. He says he would withdraw from the congressional race if he wins the state primary in September, which would force Democrats to field another candidate less than two months before the election. He is sitting on more than $3 million in campaign funds in his House account, but there are questions about whether he can use them for the attorney general’s race. So far, he has done little campaigning compared with James and Teachout.

“Democrats need to be as good at winning as we are at worrying,” he told me in response to those concerns, insisting that he is “100 percent committed” to keeping his congressional seat in Democratic hands in a year when the House majority is up for grabs.

In an interview, Maloney accused James of compromising her independence by accepting fundraising help from Cuomo and suggested they were running as a ticket rather than for two separately elected posts. “When a governor pays for your campaign, that’s unprecedented,” he said, referring to a fundraiser Cuomo held for James. “We have never seen a governor of New York pick up an attorney-general campaign and put it on his shoulders before. How in the hell are you going to be independent of the governor and tell him you’re investigating the Buffalo Billion when he’s paying your bills, when he is raising money, really all of the money you’re raising for attorney general?” Maloney added, in a reference to an upstate economic-development project that has become a corruption scandal implicating Cuomo appointees.

As for Teachout, Maloney said he was concerned about “loose rhetoric” being thrown around that he implied was unprofessional and unethical. “I am going to approach this job like a professional attorney,” he told me, “and I am going to have a mature and responsible approach to wielding the power of this office, because if it’s just about headlines or advancing your career, I think that’s an unethical approach.” In a statement, Teachout responded: “I will not apologize for calling out clear examples of lawlessness by the Trump administration or the Trump Organization,” she said. “If the congressman has a particular legal strategy he disagrees with he should name it.”

Maloney cited his experience at major law firms, as a senior White House staffer, and as a top aide to New York Governors Spitzer and David Paterson, along with his record as “the only guy in this race who’s actually beat Republicans in tough races.”

Maloney is also the only guy in the Democratic race. While the election of James, Teachout, or the lesser-known Eve would mark a step forward for women in New York, Maloney is bidding to become the first openly gay person elected to statewide office. But surrogates for both James and Teachout have treated his delayed entry into the race against three qualified women as an affront, and the James spokeswoman Delaney Kempner characterized his criticism of her boss’s independence as sexist. “For him to assign credit to Governor Cuomo instead of to Letitia James is the height of misogyny and a clear example of why more women than ever are running for public office this year,” Kempner said.

If there’s a meaningful distinction in approach between Teachout, James, and Maloney, it’s not in whether they’d go after Trump, but how. James and Maloney place more emphasis on protecting New York from administration policies. They promise to file or continue lawsuits against federal action—or inaction—in areas like immigration, the environment, gay rights, and consumer fraud. “There’s a set of issues that relate to Donald Trump, but there are a much broader and equally important set of issues that relate to the Trump administration,” Maloney told me. “And I’m concerned about both.” James said she would also pursue Trump’s businesses, but she noted that in criminal prosecution, the powers of the state attorney general are limited. “You can go after him personally, but we should also go after his policies,” she told me.

Implicit in their priorities is a critique of Teachout’s, a suggestion that her laser-like focus on the president’s business empire could detract from the legal fight against policies that have a more direct impact on the lives of New Yorkers. To Teachout, they are all of a piece. She is running as the anti-corruption crusader who sees Trump’s tenure as “a historic crisis”—one that the New York attorney general’s office, despite its relatively small size and limited legal reach, is uniquely positioned to address. “It has never been more important,” she said.

from The Atlantic https://ift.tt/2vjZAuQ