#actually the road closures are a bit of a pain at the moment

[august-hynes]

Dear Caden,

It's June again. If I've counted correctly, it's the sixth time the month passes since I've spent it on the dirt road behind your house.

It's June again, and the sky is orange above my balcony where I'm growing herbs and tomatoes and carrots and sunflowers, and it's June again and I married someone else. It was a private affair, bureaucratic almost, but at its core honest and self-explanatory. A logical, comfortable thing to do. Now Laurence answers all of her phone calls with am "um," before saying my last name.

To say that I'm happy about this latest, hugest change in my life wouldn't quite be correct. It's more like the feeling when you can match a puzzle piece into an already mostly finished picture, but big. It didn't feel like a relief, or an exhale, but something inevitable, completing. Like everything else would be nonsensical.

I'm not writing this to place a big "but" after it all, I swear. I'm writing this because I think I might be looking for closure, have been for years, and I'm slowly running out of options, so I'm trying to do what the internet tells you to do and write a letter. Groundbreaking in our case, truly. I'm also writing this because I still miss you to the bone. I'm not sure which version of you I am missing, because the truth is that I don't know you anymore, and you don't know me either, and that fact fills me with a huge sense of loss I am honestly not sure that I'll ever get used to. I miss the feeling of sharing stories and experiences and knowing that through all the hardships we were looking out for each other, I miss how seriously we took each other, how creative and inspired and big and loving it all was.

They say that every time you think of a memory, your brain alters it a little bit. Combined with the huge sadness, anger, joy, desperation and nostalgia I've felt about you, I'm not sure what details I think I remember are real anymore, which ones I've heightened and which ones I've forgotten about. But I know that the core of it was real, and that it was big and important. I saved your life and you showed me who I am, and I know that we had a lot of dreams and hope for each other and with each other. I also know that I've tried to mourn all of this for years but still feel like I'm picking at healed skin all the time. And so it felt strange and sad to not send you an invite to my actual wedding party in September, because I think I thought that you would be there. I thought that you would be there, somehow, for things like this, for me finally getting my driver's license and me moving back to the city I come from which took SO much courage, I thought you'd be there for birthdays and us finishing our degrees, in whatever capacity we could figure out. And now, somehow, even after it all, you are not, and that will never not make me devastated to realize in these moments.

I'm not sure if you decided that you can't or don't want to talk to me after all, if it's too strange or painful, if you feel like it's been too long and that I would be angry with you for not responding to me sooner. It's true that it hurt to be met with silence again, especially considering how the past years came to pass without you in the first place. I still wish that you had let me know either way, because like I said, I've been looking for closure for a long time.

I am scared that, worst of all, you perhaps simply don't care as much, and that I'm the only one out of the two of us who has been haunting everything that happened between us, hovering over the past, unable to quite let it go in its unfinished state. Here's where the closure comes in that I've been looking for: I've tried to banish these chapters of story, to embrace them, to make my peace or to find peace despite of or perhaps in the restless feeling the remains left me with. Then, quite recently, I've tried to find a less radical and much sweeter kind of closure, one we could maybe create together. But somehow I still ended up in the same chasm I've been in before, silent, strangely trapped, looking for traces and echos in quiet, sad moments, continuing the haunt.

I'm not sure if you also have the problem of a lack of tangible things to tell yourself that your feelings aren't based on a huge figment of your imagination. I sure do. Laurence has this coffee shop in Basel that makes her think of her ex-boyfriend every time she walks by. It's a fixed feeling, to be expected, even something she can seek out if she wants to. It's tied to a place, traceable. For me, memories and thoughts of you hit me like a freight train. It happens with music and color combinations, I still feel like I meet an improbably large number of people from Colorado. It happens when I don't expect it, but it never happens in a way that is understandable to others. And so, yes, in moments like right now, I sometimes look for it all with a strangely forbidden feeling in my stomach, scrambling for everything I can to tell me that, yes, this really did happen, and it really did shape me as a person as much as I think it did, in all the wonderful and awful ways I am sure you remember.

While I am sure of some of the brilliant parts of what we were together, I am also very sure that other parts weren't what I had wished for our younger selves – not only considering the circumstances and what was happening around us, but also how we were able or unable to accommodate everything that was happening to us. I've long since moved away from the question of who did what wrong or what was whose fault, because I don't think there is much of a point in that. But I am still confronted with at least the share of trauma I was left with, and while it did shape me as a person in important ways, I would hope that as adults, we would try to intervene if we saw something like this happening to someone growing up.

All this to say – I remember it. The details might be hazy, the emotions are still complex and layered, but I am grateful and sad, and no matter what happens, I think that time in my life left a truly indelible mark on me.

Here's another attempt at closing out: I'm not waiting for your answer anymore. If you do want to reach out after all, you are welcome to do so, but if you aren't, I am no longer hovering with my hands over the keyboard, no longer waiting to be called back. I am trying to exhale, to lose the tension in my shoulders, and go somewhere this part of me can rest up instead. You are welcome there any time you like.

In any case, I wish you well. I would like to say thank you, and if you haven't yet, I think it is time to forgive each other and ourselves.

Love, always, wherever.

[partybarty]

Professional Cyclists are getting swooped by Magpies, but can’t put zip ties on their helmets because of aerodynamics.

[appetite4savage]

When Love and Hate Collide, a Phil Collen one shot/imagine

-

I didn’t expect him to be the type of guy who cheated on his girlfriend. Sure, I had heard rumors he slept around quite a bit. I heard he was a ladies’ man. But that was all years ago. None of them were in a relationship with him for nine months like I was. You’d think a 40 year old man would grow out of his 20 year old mindset.

The image plays in my head every day. Walking in his house and hearing an eerie silence, then hearing giggling and moaning as I got closer to his bedroom.

I’ll never forget the face he made when I walked in to see him wrapped around another much younger woman. It might have been regret, or it might have been because he had been caught.

Apparently it had been happening under my nose for a while. She was a part of the band’s road crew for the Slang tour. She was young and pretty, and constantly flaunted herself in front of him. The guys noticed. Everyone noticed. Everyone but me.

Well, that was three months ago. I ended things and moved on. We never even had a discussion about it. I never got closure. I just wanted to be as far away from Phil Collen as possible.

Of course when you date a big rockstar, it’s hard to avoid his face. I see him everywhere, on posters, billboards, tour shirts, on television. Women talking about how hot he is in restaurants or nail salons. I should have contemplated that before starting to see him.

The worst thing about the situation is I still love him. I still look in those eyes and see the funny guitarist who won me over at an afterparty for New York Fashion Week after his band had performed. I still see the man who’d sing in my ear and rub my back when I was having trouble sleeping, like I always do.

These thoughts are all rushing through my head as I stroll through the city that never sleeps. The city that brings up painful memories but is ultimately the place I will always call home.

I freeze when I reach the café I frequent in the heart of the city. Usually, it’s quiet and not as bustling as the rest of the restaurants in the area. Today it isn’t. Women are standing outside the glass window pointing and laughing.

“Phil Collen! From Def Leppard! He’s supposed to be coming to this café today!” One of them whispers to her friend.

I can’t do this today.

Turning on my heels to go back to my apartment, I ran right smack into another figure.

“Oh, I’m sor-“ I start, but then I realize who is standing in front of me.

“Hi.”

“Phil- um. Hi.” I scratch the back of my neck in nervousness.

“I’ve been trying to reach you. We need to talk.” He puts a hand on my shoulder.

“We have nothing to talk about. You made your decision.”

“I was dumb. I was going through some kind of midlife crisis. I regret what I did every single day. She wasn’t you.”

“She wasn’t me. That’s the issue.”

“I would do anything for you to give me a second chance.”

“I.. I don’t know.”

“Come on, I know another place that no one will know about.” He grabs my hand and pulls me into another direction.

-

We’ve actually had a decent conversation without yelling at each other. I’m surprised.

“Phil, I don’t think you understand. That was one of the most earth-shattering moments of my life.”

“I know, and I’m so sorry. I see your face when you walked in replaying in my head every day. Please give me another chance.”

“Alright, fine. It’s going to take a lot of work.”

“Fine by me. I will do anything. I swear. I’ll swim to Australia and back to show my love for you.” He reaches over the table and grasped my small hands in his rough, large guitar hands.

“Okay.”

-

He did everything right this time. He’s still the same man I loved before. The man I love now. I’ve seen no signs of anything being wrong, he’s completely devoted to me.

“I don’t know how you do what you do to me, but I know I don’t deserve it.” He says.

“You don’t. But unfortunately I’m head over heels for you.”

[chapters-of-mylife]

You've Reached Sam by Dustin Thao {Book Review}

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GENRES: Romance, Contemporary, Young Adult, Adult, Fantasy, Fiction

rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️.5 out of 5 Stars

------------------------------------------- Seventeen-year-old Julie has her future all planned out—move out of her small town with her boyfriend Sam, attend college in the city, spend a summer in Japan. But then Sam dies. And everything changes.

Heartbroken, Julie skips his funeral, throws out his things, and tries everything to forget him and the tragic way he died. But a message Sam left behind in her yearbook forces back memories. Desperate to hear his voice one more time, Julie calls Sam’s cellphone just to listen to his voicemail.

And Sam picks up the phone.

In a miraculous turn of events, Julie’s been given a second chance at goodbye. The connection is temporary. But hearing Sam’s voice makes her fall for him all over again, and with each call it becomes harder to let him go. However, keeping her otherworldly calls with Sam a secret isn’t easy, especially when Julie witnesses the suffering Sam’s family is going through. Unable to stand by the sidelines and watch their shared loved ones in pain, Julie is torn between spilling the truth about her calls with Sam and risking their connection and losing him forever. (From Goodreads)

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This book was good! It wasn't as emotional as I thought it would've been, but it had moments I couldn't help but cry while reading them! You can read this book if you want a good cry, I actually picked it up because I was starting to feel numb while reading the last few books and I wanted something to move my feelings, and this book moved them on more than one scene! Actually, this book felt like a closure to me, yeah I know this feels strange but let me explain, in the middle of this book, the more I read about Sam the more he reminded me of Sam Cortland from the THRONE OF GLASS series by Sarah J Maas! (a little question here, why does it always need to be the wonderful, sweet guys that need to die) anyway I really was sad when he died and when Celena and he never got to say goodbye, so while reading this book I felt like reading the goodbye I wanted those two to have too. I know it's a strange thing, but I think that is probably why as much as I was sad while reading this book after I finished reading it I felt as if a weight was lifted from my chest!

This book was beautifully written!! and I'm excited to read more of the author's books when he releases them in the future! Sam was a wonderful character, and I really loved him!!

  - “I missed you. I missed you infinity.”

Julie on the other hand, I didn't like her that much, yes her grieving way was a little bit selfish but at the same time I can't blame her, the grieving way is different for everyone, what I didn't like about her is how she acted on some of her memories! TBH she gave me the feeling that she was a snob. Even though I wasn't a big fan of her, she made me cry for her more than once, and I was happy with the ending!

- " Letting go isn’t about forgetting. It’s balancing moving forward with life, and looking back from time to time, remembering the people in it.”

This one really hit me

- “Life will pass right by you,” she says, her eyes focused on the road. “And you end up missing the little things, the moments you don’t think matter—but they do. Moments that make you forget about everything else.”

[mellowfilmmaker]

Phoenix Wright Fan Game Script Is Coming

Does anyone know good sites to post fanfics? I’m asking because over the Holiday season I came up with an entire new Phoenix Wright game and I want to write it down. I might post them on here, but I also want to post them on other sites because I love the ideas in this game. It even has a title Bonds of Fate. 

Some things to note about these scripts

1. This is going to be written out sort of like a walkthrough of a new game, but with the dialogue and stuff. It’s probably going to be formatted like a script. 

2. This isn’t like Mellow Frames. This isn’t a parody. This is what I would honestly do if I was tasked with making a new Ace Attorney game. 

3. With that said, there is definitely going to be a lot of comedy in this script as well as a lot of serious moments. Like in an actual Ace Attorney game. 

4. A lot of old characters do come back mostly because I feel a lot of them need some closure (like Iris) or development (like Franziska). If this was a real Ace Attorney game then it would have more original trilogy characters then the last 3 games combined. While some changes do seem a bit fanficey (seeing as this is a fanfic), I did make sure the changes would make sense in continuity. (Also let’s be real, the actual games are filled to the brim with retcons)  

5. It does also feature a plethora of new characters. Don’t worry, I’ll keep the names punny like Dr. Phil Better (Dr. Feel Better), Jafar Runner (A Far Runner), Sue Vier Payne (Soothe Your Pain) and more. 

6. I’m posting these no matter what. These ideas are just filling my head, so be prepared for the content coming. Though it might take awhile since I definitely need to fill in details. 

Here’s the summaries of the first two cases (since the rest of the case descriptions feature major spoilers of the previous cases). 

Turnabout Express

Summary: 

Athena Cykes with the assistance of Trucy Wright are defending aspiring train driver Connie Ductor who is being framed for the murder of her own brother Connor Ductor by their teacher Master Choo. In court they must face the imposing Prosecutor Barkiswurse Vanbite in the opening case of Ace Attorney Bonds of Fate. 

Turnabout Forgiveness 

Summary: 

During the last few years, Franziska Von Karma has been trying to improve herself. She took a sabbatical from prosecuting and has been going to counseling for her many issues. During this time she has became a more calm and approachable person, but is now riddled with guilt at her past misdeeds. She started her road to redemption by confessing to using falsified evidence in multiple trials so they can all get a fair retrial, resulting in her own disbarment. Her next step in the road to redemption is to host a gathering where she invites many of the people she has wronged in the past in order to apologize and make amends. This includes Phoenix Wright and many of his old friends. At the gathering, Phoenix actually gets along with and befriends the new Franziska. Things take a dark turn when the power goes out. In the dark, Phoenix and another guest Railee Kahnvikt (the only guest that’s a new character) are both shot. Phoenix miraculously survives, but Railee does not. When the lights turn on, Franziska is holding a gun, but she tearfully insists that she didn’t do it. Now Phoenix is defending his former rival/new friend in court against the surprisingly adept rookie Prosecutor Heal Yur Payne. This is despite Phoenix being one of the people Franziska is accused of shooting, and the fact that if Franziska is innocent, then the true killer is likely one of his friends.

[elysian-entries]

One film, two visions; The Justice League

It’s 2017; the highly anticipated “Justice League” film, directed by Zack Snyder, is set to be released later in the year as a continuation of the DCEU.

A blockbuster movie showcasing the biggest DC characters uniting. Taking down the ultimate super villain; bound to fulfil millions of past and present children’s, as well as current adults and elderly dreams.

Then a fork in the road appears, Snyder and his wife, Deborah, step down from the colossal project due to the incredibly woeful loss of their daughter, Autumn. News hits the fans like a brick. Resulting in Joss Whedon and the Warner Bros. Studio stepping up to the mantle. Or at least attempting to.

Whedon's theatrical cut lost Warner Bros. Pictures approximately $60 million dollars. With overall painfully negative reviews and reception. Breaking the hearts of DC fans everywhere.

4 years, campaigns, hashtags, sky banners, petitions, and billboards later; I can’t say how many of us would have predicted receiving the holy gift that is the “Snyder Cut”, in its full 4 hour running time glory (in a 4:3 ratio, which somehow adds to the grandeur). 4 years of dedicated, passionate and determined people helping in any way they can for the cause. It was a journey to behold.

A large section in Snyder’s 4 hour venture is used to build dimension and depth in the characters. Making an absolute world of a difference. Something that was sorely lacking in Whedon's cut. The film had a completely different feel and atmosphere instantly.

There's no better example of increased depth in characters than Cyborg's (Ray Fisher's) narrative. I was engaged, and intrigued by his story. In Whedon’s cut, he isn't even given a second thought. His entire backstory was cut as well as his father's important role also being stripped. His scene where he sacrificed himself in order for them to find the mother box was gone. And it took away such an important, integral part in Cyborgs story, and in the film in general I believe and also realised having seen the two movies; the complicated but delicately developing relationship between father and son. And just the whole story in general made such a difference in Snyder's cut, it really is almost indescribable the difference it made. It just felt so much more genuine and heartfelt. Like a real developed and executed narrative.

In Snyder's cut we were shown detailed flashbacks that fully fleshed out his character, his morals and his relationships. Creating a much needed deeper connection with the audience. We experience his conflicting journey to accepting his responsibility, accepting the past, the "gift he has", and his purpose in the league. Leading into receiving closure. He was given great and meaningful importance and purpose in this cut.

Similarly, Ezra Miller's Flash was too given a largely more meaningful and impactful role that left quite the impression on me. His character was light-hearted and charming but still had those important, emotionally impactful scenes. Which were painfully lacking in Whedon's cut. I was left loving Barry Allen a lot more than I already did. Barry's scenes with his wrongly convicted father were hard hitting for me. They also play a large part in making later scenes more impactful. Like his detrimental importance during the final fight. In Whedon's cut his big hero moment was saving a Russian family. The overall the inclusion of the family was superfluous and extraneous, along with the robber at the start and many other things. Not only that but Whedon's cut gave the Flash a silly, attempted comical relief role. To be fair he attempted to give everybody a comical relief role. Which hardly worked because none of the attempts were actually funny and were at time agonizing. It ultimately lacked substance and came across as almost immature. The scene where Barry went on about brunch was painful. Leading me to ask, why? Why was this so important to film Whedon?

After re-watching Whedon’s version, I had gained a new found appreciation for Snyder's representation of Barry. '"Make your own future, make your own past"; he echoes his father’s words. "Your son really was one of them, the best of the best," as his theme "At the Speed of Force" plays in the background of this pivotal moment. A powerful scene reflecting Barry's ulterior motive, doing his father proud. Which invoked many tears. And still does whenever I re-watch the scene or listen to the song. As if it were the first time experiencing it. Thomas Holkenborg's soundtrack truly amplified emotion and made the scenes much more powerful, It makes for one of the absolute best scenes in the movie; I'd say one of, if not my absolute favourite.

His job in charging up Victor was completely removed and I have to wonder why. Instead Barry was left to participate in "bug duty" (bugs being one of his fears also). Barry's role in Snyder's cut, and that one incredible scene where he broke the rule was arguably better than Whedon's Justice League as a whole.

I think the only scene in Whedon's cut involving Barry that I thought was actually meaningful was where he was faced with his first real mission. And he was confronted with his fears of "obnoxiously tall" beings. He appeared anxious and frantic. Fearful. Communicating to us his inexperience. And Batman simply told him to just "save one". To which he then, without struggle, saved them all. And was also able to participate in the final battle. The "save one" scene made those achievements more meaningful.

The scene after they won the battle, showcases the victorious team standing proud; and Barry with a sweet, goofy, golden retriever-esque smile plastered on his face. What a loveable smile.

An interesting contrast is the scene in where Barry reveals to his father his new position at an “actual job”. In Snyder’s cut the father was absolutely over the moon, shouting at the top of his lungs, "his foot is in the door!" repeatedly in excitement. It tugged at my heart strings; his shameless pride in his son. Making me wonder how he would have shown his pride if he found out Barry saved the whole Earth and humanity. We can assume Barry had that unequivocally powerful underlying thought too. Contributing to his saccharine reaction. In Whedon’s cut the reaction was softer and more timid but nonetheless a sweet moment. Barry becoming bashful.

It was a sweet touch to have Cyborg and Flash finally fist bump during that victorious scene after Victor rejected Barry's initial advance in Whedon's cut. Ezra Miller improvising that “racially charged” line, acknowledging the possible racism attached to a fist bump I assume. The whole fist bumping being "racially charged" was not included in Snyder's cut. The grave digging scene was entirely different. Which I far more preferred. It was a group excursion. With a little positive interaction between the Atlantean and the Amazonian. And funnier, more light-hearted dialogue between Barry and Victor.

Aquaman’s contrast was interesting. In Whedon’s cut he actually sought out to obtain the trident to help the league (although he was always disagreeing with them). Compared to Snyder; where he was apprehensive and had to be hesitantly persuaded by Willem Dafoe’s character Vulko (who was completely absent from Whedon’s cut). This was also an importantly established relationship by Snyder. Arthur first makes his desire to help the the team known saving them from the water rushing from Gotham Harbour. He isn't acknowledged in the theatrical cut but in Snyder's cut Diana notices and takes a moment to take in his presence (I assume?). Then Barry asks who that guy is. And of course we all know, it's Aquaman.

I particularly liked how Snyder chose to include Barry asking for Arthur's opinion on military hats. It's an odd, minimalistic thing to include - the reasoning as to why I like it. I also thought it was quite charming.

A scene I think deserves a mention is when Aquaman is first introduced, and then rejects Bruce's offer, he then makes his way back into the ocean. A farewell song is performed. This was quite early in the film and I think the voices being hauntingly beautiful, yet slightly eerie/poignant set the perfect atmosphere. A well done scene.

His overall character was also contrasting. He became a genuine hero who was proved capable of more than water powers and silly moments. Including that god-awful lasso of truth scene. In the theatrical cut he was bitter, a bit of a joke, not caring too much about the events that were unfolding. He had more of a heroes’ sense of purpose within Snyder’s cut.

Gal Gadot did not gain too much from the extra scenes. Though different to the theatrical cut, Snyder had paired her with a repetitive character establishing theme. It could be referred to as ancient lamentation music. Hauntingly beautiful. Something I could only assume would be the battle cries of the Amazonian warriors and the Amazonian warrior inside Diana. In some ways possibly over used, though I thought it was brilliant. It has a special place in my heart because I love that type of soundtrack. The almost eerie, maybe poignant but overall emotion provoking type. Especially her introduction scene where she faces off against the terrorists )which was overall better in Snyder's cut) The haunting warrior moans fade into her classic theme to create an incredible atmosphere. And that atmosphere was definitely missing in Whedon's cut, in more than just that one scene. It was also sorely lacking the lamentation music. We also didn't get that sweet interaction between Diana and the little girl.

When Diana began detailing Steppenwolf and the mother boxes past to Bruce, the cuts were very strange and abrupt/awkward in some way. And it felt silly and rushed; and I think that perfectly describes the whole film.

Whedon's cut also included uncomfortable scenes. Almost forcing characters to be funny where it was just completely out of place and character. Or just downright inappropriate. To be fair, Whedon is known for the Marvel movies in which fourth wall dimension breaking and odd self ware/ironic jokes are heavily used. One of the main reasons I don't particularly enjoy them, but rather enjoy the darker, more meaningful DC movies. I say meaningful in the way in which we are completely transported into this universe; where it's taken seriously and has obvious effects and meaning to the characters. Compared to Whedon's Marvel films in which the threat is joked about and the characters make fun at their expense.

Another negative contrast is the colour grading and overall shots. A good example is the conversation between Lois Lane and Martha Kent. In Whedon's version the colour is poppy, reminiscent of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, or The Office. As if it were an empty shell of a TV show. Lacking any artistic or symbolic aspects. Whereas Snyder's conversation between Martha Kent (who was actually Martian Manhunter) and Lois Lane was beautiful. The lighting was dim, with steam from their hot coffee creating a brilliant shot and conveying the perfect mood. Almost a piece of art. A lot of Snyder's cut looked as if it were ripped straight out of an incredible graphic novel. His talent when it comes to filmmaking is grandiloquent. Compared to Whedon's over saturated and flat scenes as if it were from a cliché sitcom.

Whedon also made the Justice League a lot more dysfunctional than it needed to be.

The scene where the team unanimously come up with the plan to revive Superman seemed really silly and lackluster in Whedon's cut. In Snyder's cut it was a genuine moment. A "wow" moment where the penny dropped. It gave me goose-bumps. The way it was implied, the explanation/analogy with the house, and then Cyborg creating a Superman visual as the team, standing around the table, stared at it in awe. All thinking the same thing. Without even having to say it (as Barry pointed out) It was a uniting moment. Whedon's version was just, disappointing. Lacking any impact at all. And it made the team seem disconnected in a way. Whereas in Snyder's scene the league's thoughts were in unison.

There was also an agonizing amount of Wonder Woman praise. I think praise is a...well...nicer way of putting it. It was more so adolescent boy humour, immature if you will; with her being the butt of the joke. To the point where it was little uncomfortable and borderline unnecessary. And to another point where Gal Gadot refused to do a scene, (the one where Flash lands on her) and Whedon insisted so much on still including it - that they used a body double. A scene so stupid and pointless it actually hurts. Why, Whedon?

Superman's main feature in this film is his moustache. Or, lack thereof. At the beginning of the theatrical cut, we witness the infamous Superman film scene, where we are introduced to his CGI moustache…then “Everybody Knows” by Sigrid plays as we see the aftermath of his death. I really enjoyed this scene, the song and the atmosphere. I think it was a strong start, setting the poignant mood. But of course it all goes out the window and downhill from here.

The biggest difference between the two Superman’s was the elimination of the godforsaken CGI removed moustache and the introduction to the “Recovery Suit” in Snyder's cut, which was a brilliant touch. We actually see Clark stumble upon the suit. A scene where various voices from his past, echo in his mind. An equally important and impactful scene; where he flied up into the universe, overlooking the Earth he is to protect.

I also really liked the whole, "Lois Lane is key" setup, with the eerie premonitions and glimpses into the “Knightmare”. Adding yet another deeper layer to the narrative. Setting the scene for Snyder's envisioned sequel.

In Whedon's cut during the first confrontation where Clark is confused immediately after his resurrection - the previous BvS battle is implemented more. With the "Do you bleed?" question being revisited. Giving us an unwanted closer look at the strange looking $3 million dollar CGI.

I liked Snyder's first confrontation better. It included more action and participation of all parties. And it was just a longer scene, making it seem more plausible and less silly. Before Clark reached Bruce he went through every member. Resulting in a little appreciated interaction between Arthur and Barry. I also thought Whedon’s scene showing Superman throwing Batman away like a ragdoll added to the ridiculous nature.

During the final battle. (Not mentioning how uncomfortable the colour grading was causing an unlikable atmosphere. Especially when it became daylight, taking away the exciting and intense atmosphere.) Whedon's Superman's entry was a little plain. Maybe cliché. Banging on about "truth" and "justice". Which isn't necessarily bad. It's just, maybe, too Superman? We then see the relieved faces of all the members. Batman's giddy smile was by far the best. It was nice to see genuine happiness and I think that played an important role in communicating to us Bruce's character arc. From lowest of lows, and his conflicting attitude towards Superman in BvS, to Superman giving him incredible hope. Though it slightly made me uncomfortable.

Snyder's entry of Superman was brutal in the best way. Appearing just before Cyborg was chopped to bits. Giving us that epic moment of 'He came.” Superman mercilessly rips into Steppenwolf for the next minute or two. No breakaways. Which was a great choice. It perfectly showcased his abilities. Though in the theatrical cut he was shown to be the only capable one of saving the world and being the real “hero”, in Snyder’s cut, especially The Flash, they were all shown to be powerful with meaningful parts to play.

Bruce Wayne appeared more guilty and conflicted about what happened in BvS in Whedon's cut. Though he was overshadowed in terms of writing by Superman and Wonder Woman. He also was the one who brought in the "big guns" a.k.a Lois Lane as a contingency plan in case the Superman resurrection went awry. In which it did. In Snyder's cut it was coincidence, or the doing of Man Hunter in that mysterious scene. Bruce was also quite tense and wasn’t too much a bright beacon of hope as he was in the Snyder cut. Even despite Snyder's vision of him being reminiscent and heavily inspired by Frank Millers version; darker, older, broken and violent in a way (which is brilliant) he still had this character arc. The lover’s tiff he suffered with Diana was irritating and what I thought was superfluous. Creating an unnecessary disconnect with the group. It wasn't an interesting sub-plot/complication at all .

Bruce's character arc (from the dark BvS time, to the hopeful present) was more thoroughly shown in Snyder’s cut compared to Whedon's. I briefly mentioned Bruce's schoolgirl grin when Superman arrived right on time. Though Snyder more effectively showcased this positive rise through his obviously increased in optimistic attitude. When the team are off the defeat Steppenwolf once and for all Alfred asks Bruce how he can be so sure of the Man of Steel’s arrival. And Bruce replies full of vigour, “Faith, Alfred, faith!” And in another instance Barry questions their strength against Steppenwolf due to the amount of demons he has won against. Bruce declares that, “He’s never fought us. Not us united.” It was a powerful statement that heavily elevated excitement for the final fight.

During this final fight, Batman basically goes out on a suicide mission. Then the rest of the league join him for a family reunion. The Snyder cut better represented this with an astounding freeze-frame, slow motion shot of the team. It nicely established the power of unity in this case.

The way in which Steppenwolf was defeated was vastly altered. Changed completely. Mostly due to Darkseid’s absence in the theatrical cut. Darkseid added an important extra layer of looming fear, and even gave Steppenwolf more depth. It gave him an important reason as to why he was doing what he wasy doing. As we saw his utter dedication to Darkseid. It alerted us of the larger dangers that were present. Steppenwolf’s death in Whedon’s cut was ultimately debilitated after seeing Snyder’s version. Instead of being anti-climactically eaten alive by his bug minions as the sun rose; (maybe it’s a personal preference but I heavily dislike the daylight, especially for action scenes) his head was chopped off, first horn by horn, then from the neck. His decapitated head thrusted back through the portal into his own world, landing at the horrifying Darkseid's feet, along with the terrifying parademons. Engulfed by a fiery hellscape. The horror that Earth could have faced. But still could face. It reveals the deeper and darker enemy, beyong Steppenwolf looming just beneath the surface.

A sinister tune plays, as we see the victorious Justice League looking back at them. The portal then closes. Although a victory, we can’t help but wonder what the demonic and powerful entities, far more powerful than Steppenwolf, have in store for Earth’s future.

The Knightmare vision being apart of that future. It's set up from BvS to the very end of Justice League. It's a very intriguing part of Snyder’s vision. The moment where you can link up and see the connections between all the post-credit scenes and the “premonitions” is an epiphanic moment. It’s a whole other narrative on its own that you can analyse, hypothesize and discuss. It’s a very intriguing/exciting concept to think of what would have been Snyder’s future movie where Barry (as we saw previously reverse time) goes back to warn Bruce that “Lois Lane is the key”, to avoid the whole disastrous scenario. We can gather that he is referencing what we see at the end of Snyder's cut, Superman turned evil. The death of Lois Lane, whose skeleton we saw Superman cradle previously, we can assume had a hand in that, and possibly the Anti-Life equation too. It's an incredible narrative, and there are few things I would love more than seeing the Snyderverse come to life on this epic scale again.

We also finally get a glimpse of Snyder’s joker. A very exciting moment for me. Seeing any new iteration of the Joker is an exciting moment. Could Jared Leto somehow redeem himself?

Well, it sure was infinitely times better than the Suicide Squad rendition. This Joker was actually eerie and unsettling. I felt almost uneasy watching these scenes, and his odd laugh caused shivers to form down my spine. Jokers comments about “boy wonder”, whom we find out was indeed Bruce’s adoptive son, were heartbreaking (I believe he was actually referring to Dick instead of Jason surprisingly as his grave was once seen in a previous movie) Leaving me holding my breath, wondering what Bruce would say next, or what other wretched thing Joker could say. Of course the "reach around" comment was a bit off, but I’ll just brush over that.

We also learnt of Arthur Curry’s death, Harley Quinn’s death. Proving that Snyder had such a colossal plans for all the characters, dead and alive.

It’s a poignant feeling; to see this incredible, vast narrative, just beneath the surface, unfold. Knowing that we won’t be able to see it fully developed. As of now.

While watching these two completely different cuts of the same movie; it occurred to me and I am sure many other people, that attempting to produce such an in depth narrative intensive movie on the small scale that Whedon attempted, will commonly end in a painful, empty and superficial representation. Or maybe that really was just Whedon's vision.

As the epilogue ended, the credits rolled. Hallelujah began playing, sung by Allison Crowe. And as they rolled, in big letters the words; "For Autumn" took center focus. White against black. Clear as day. Like a bus, it hit hard. The reason I was sitting on that couch finally having the great honour to watch such a film. The courage it must have taken to continue and finish such a project is beyond admirable, it's heroic. Also non-profit. It only further proves what we already knew, that the intentions were pure, as no one ever doubted.

Also acknowledging the giant billboard on one of the buildings promoting the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. A very important cause, especially to the Snyder’s. To date fans have raised over half a million dollars to the AFSP in honour of Autumn. A truly incredible feat.

When looking at the two movies side by side, it blows my mind to see the difference that I do. The emotion, meaning, the depth. It all just made sense in Snyder's cut. The emotion was palpable, absolutley unmistakable. Things mattered more. The people mattered more. There were reasons, and purpose. It was a genuine journey for every one of the characters, and I felt it. There were so many little scenes that made so much difference that added depth and meaning, emotion.

And I cannot say such words for Whedon, though I won’t put all the blame on him. Warner Bros. is about equally responsible. .

The true, original and intended Justice League; expatiated heroes, people, stories and journeys coming together on a grandiose scale, executed with passion and care. But also giving us a bittersweet taste of Snyder’s epic trilogy that could have been.

The end of the saga; and the rest of Snyder’s visions, are left unfulfilled; as of now. But regardless, remains as one of the things I hope to see come to life. Watching this movie, and the feeling I had during and afterward is indescribable. I want to say a massive congratulations to Zack Snyder. The film was beyond breathtaking. It really is so special and it will forever have an important place in my heart.

Though I think the most important thing to take away from the Snyder's incredible work is Autumn's story.

Thank you Zack Snyder.

For Autumn.

www.imdb.com/title/tt12361974/

[babi-correia]

What Could Have Been (Part 2)

Words: 1605 Warnings: Flashbacks, nothing too violent A/N: ...I’ve been going at this fic and it’s going to be over 20 parts long... It’s going to be good, I promise! Also, two updates in one day, who am I?!

Part 1

Back in the firehouse, you rush into the showers, eager to scrub away all the remnants and memory of what you saw on the bottom of the river. You allow your mind to wander while you’re under the water, your fingers absentmindedly running through the multiple laceration scars on your right hip. You can remember the incident like it was yesterday.

You’re making small talk with the other marines on your truck when it comes to an abrupt stop, and you hear ruckus coming from the outside.

“C’mon Peacemaker, go out there and settle whatever is going on.” Your CO orders, making you hop off the truck and jog towards the front of the convoy, where several Rangers are yelling in English, Spanish, and Pashto at a small girl standing in the middle of the road.

“Cut it out.” You snarl at the Rangers, moving forward. You see Jay and Mouse up front as you approach on your left. “We’re in the fucking Valley of Death, and I’d appreciate it if we didn’t have to be here any longer than strictly necessary.”

“That girl is blocking the way.” An older Ranger barks, his gun trained on her. You roll your eyes at him, noticing the frightened look on the girl’s face.

“Put that fucking gun down.” You bellow, coming closer to the girl until you feel a hand on your arm. You see Jay on the other side, shaking his head.

“Don’t go any closer. We don’t know what could come of that.” He says, and you nod. You turn to the girl, playing your role as an interpreter.

“What’s your name?” You ask her in Pashto, lowering the bandana around your mouth and raising your hands, showing her you meant no harm. “I’m (Y/N), what about you?”

“They… they said the infidels were going to suffer.” She whimpers, making your eyes go wide.

“Everyone, get back!” You call out, but it’s already too late.

You watch as a missile lands where the girl is standing, throwing you back and making your ears ring. You scramble, screaming when you feel the debris and shrapnel embedded on your right hip and leg. You drag yourself a few inches, looking around at your teammates and seeing complete carnage, crawling towards Jay and Mouse, seeing the latter scramble up-

“Hey, (Y/N), you ok in there?” You hear Kidd’s voice outside the door, snapping you from the trip down memory lane. You thank her mentally, remembering that what came next was not something you liked to relive.

You and Kidd had had some problems in getting along when you first met, but with time and some hangouts, the two of you quickly became good friends. She knew about most of the events from your deployments due to your own drunk blabbermouth, but even when drunk you saved her the most gruesome details, and the part that you knew Jay and Mouse.

“I’m fine, just got a bit distracted!” You call out, shutting off the water and wrapping a towel around yourself as you exit the stall. Your right leg seizes, causing you to curse as a sudden surge of pain floods your hip and shoots in every direction.

“I’m coming in.” She warns, opening the door you thought you had locked and closing it behind her, turning the bolt. “You did lock it; I picked the lock.”

She comes to your side and helps you sit down on the little ledge in the shower, crouching down in front of you.

“I heard about your find today, how are you holding up?” She asks, resting her arms on your knees as you secure the towel around your chest.

“I’m fine. I’ve seen worse.” It wasn’t a complete lie: even though the bodies in the river were a gruesome sight, your deployment had given you plenty worse. “But my leg is acting up again with the damn ghost pain.”

“Let’s get you dressed and then you can rest a bit on the bunks.” She suggests, gathering your clothes and helping you up. “It seems like the rest of the day is going to be slow.”

“Don’t jinx it, I need that desperately right now.” You mutter, putting on your underwear before taking a little pause. You can see your reflection on the mirrors from the corner of your eye, your skin littered with scars, both small and big, faded and evident, shallow and deep, all reminders of a time in your life that you wish you could erase from existence.

“What’s going on, (Y/N)?” Stella asks, her hand resting comfortingly on your shoulder. You give her a sad smile, putting on your shirt.

“Saw some people I wasn’t expecting to see today, and it brought back memories.” You mutter, grabbing the pants from Stella’s hands and putting them on with her help.

“Someone I know?” She asks, raising a brow. You sigh, sitting back on the ledge as you put on your socks and boots.

“Yes.” You say defeatedly, making her look at you curiously.

“Who??”

“…Jay Halstead.”

“What do you mean, ‘Jay Halstead’? How do you know him?”

“You remember the convoy ordeal?” You ask, seeing her nod before continuing. “Well, his team was there with mine. We both got blown up.”

“Holy shit, I had no idea.” She mutters, her eyes wide in shock. “How long ago as that?”

“Very long ago. He looked right at Squad table and greeted Severide, didn’t even recognize me.”

“Why didn’t you talk to him?”

“Well, it’s more complicated than that.” You say, finishing the bow on your boot’s laces before getting up, moving to the mirrors to comb your hair. “We were very good friends during a very tough time for the two of us, and as you can see, recognition brings back not so pleasant memories.”

You put your hair in a sleek bun at the nape of your neck before grabbing your dirty clothes and limping towards the laundry room.

“But still… Maybe he could help you see some good in reminiscing the times with him.” She suggests, watching as you load your used clothes into the washer. You shake your head.

“Stella… Trust me, it’s better like this. It’s better only one of us suffers.” You say softly, pressing the buttons and prompting the machine to start its cycle.

“Ladies, excuse me.” Severide interrupts, stopping at the entrance. “(Y/L/N), Boden is asking for you at his office.”

You frown as you follow Severide, trying your best to mask the limp on your leg but failing miserably.

“What’s wrong with your leg?” Severide asks, slowing down. You shake your head, slapping your right hand down on your hip.

“Old pains tend to flare up some times.” You say, shrugging your shoulders. He seems to accept the answer, nodding before he stops you in the hallway, mere steps away from Boden’s office.

“Fair warning, Voight and Halstead are inside.” Severide says, watching as you clench your jaw and take a deep breath. “It’s probably something about the bodies in the river.”

You nod, trying to relax and stop your heart from beating franticly against your ribs, the anxiety of it all leaving you a little light-headed. You enter the office after Severide, closing the door behind you before joining the small group on the opposite side from Jay.

“(Y/N), Sergeant Voight asked me if he could speak to you in person about the last call.” Chief Boden says, crossing his arms in front of him. Voight reaches his hand out to shake yours, and you give in.

“Sergeant Hank Voight.” He introduces. You give him a firm handshake, noticing Jay extending his hand as you let go of Voight’s. You quickly grasp his hand, trying to hide the shaking.

“Detective Jay Halstead.” He says, shaking your hand, and your mind gives you flashes from your deployment: from the actual first time the two of you met, from the times where hand holding between the two of you meant comfort and understanding instead of just formal pleasantries-

You force yourself to snap out of it, forcing a smile as your chest tightens.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N).” You introduce yourself to the two men, watching the slight puzzlement taking over Jay’s face for a few moments before he shakes his head. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?”

“We just wanted to let you know that you singlehandedly gave closure to the families of the 5 victims we recovered from the river today. You have our appreciation.” Voight says, nodding his head in a small sign of respect.

“If it wasn’t me, it would have been someone else, you have nothing to thank me for.” You say, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You feel Severide’s gaze on you as you try to level your breathing, the uneasy feeling in your chest only growing.

Voight’s phone rings and he answers, listening for a bit before disconnecting the call and nodding at Jay. The two men quickly shake hands with the three firefighters in the room before excusing themselves.

“We caught a break on the current case, we have to go.” Voight declares as he and Jay leave the office. Boden nods at you when you look at him, a silent permission to leave, and you just about run out of the office and through the kitchen’s access to the outside, slumping against the wall as the snow comes down around you.

Seconds later, Stella comes out of the same door you did and wraps you in a hug, sliding down the wall with you as you burst into tears.

@thexplosivegirl​ | @godohammers​ | @savingprivatecass​ | @princxss-fia | @fullwattpadmusictree​ | @bethii1​ | @doramstr​ | @annaallicce​ | @hehurst23​ | @dreamslove92 | @lostsoulwalking | @magicxshadows​ | @lookatallthefeels

[terrm9]

Home (Ethan X MC)

Words count: 2 700 Warnings: cursing Author’s note: This is my version of events that take place after Ethan and MC (Chiara) leave Louise Ramsey at the rehab centre. It was supposed to be fluffy piece about Ethan taking MC to his place when she says she wants to go home but somehow it got a little bit angsty.

Also, the biggest thanks to everyone that supported me to write this! You guys made my heart swell and I am going to tag you because I am so, so, so thankful you encouraged me. It means a lot to me, really.

———– HOME ———-

“I should thank you more often,” Ethan let out as he leaned back into his seat, turning the engine on.

“I think I could learn to live with that,” Chiara grinned back at him, fastening her seatbelt. “I truly am proud of you Ethan. And I also can’t wait to go home.”

Ethan nodded, his gaze fixed on the road ahead of them. Chiara observed his features, testing her skills by trying to guess what exactly is going on in his head. His knuckles were turning pale by the force he held on steering wheel with, his jaw clenched and his expression forcibly neutral. It didn’t take a genius to see that there was a war of emotions inside of him, just as it didn’t take one to see that he had no intensions to share what was on his mind at the moment.

Knowing better than to push him, Chiara teared her eyes off him and despite trying her hardest to not to, she glanced at the watch at the car’s dashboard.

5:57 PM.

One minute until Sora comes to see what happened.

Chiara can’t help it. She tried, she got rid of every single watch in her apartment, she purposefully doesn’t look at her phone and yet, every single day since the accident, she keeps checking the time, repeating what happened that day.

Locked in the room with Bobby and Danny and Travis and later only with Rafael and then all by herself, all she could do was to stare at the round white watch hanged above the door and memorize the exact time of every single moment that somehow affected that day. No matter how many weeks have passed, no matter how much she tried to persuade herself, as well as everyone else that she was okay now, she kept checking the damn time every day.

“I meant what I said back then, Chiara,” Ethan spoke abruptly, breaking the thoughts occupying her mind. “That I wouldn’t have done that without you. If it wasn’t for you, I would never give Louise a second chance. I would never even try to forgive her.”

“I am not sure that’s exactly a good thing, Ethan. You have felt some way towards her for twenty-five years. You have only known me for almost two years now. I don’t think I should be the one to tell you if you should or shouldn’t forgive, it needs to be your decision. Something this huge cannot be decided on my suggestion of what I would do in the situation.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he shook his head, not tearing his gaze off the road. “It was not your suggestion that made me forgive her. It��s you. Your ability to always be kind. For twenty-five years I was angry. I was so angry with my mother and the thing is, I was proud to be angry at her. I was so proud to feel the anger, to not to look for her like my father did, I felt like caring about where she was or missing her, like that would make me weak. She did us wrong and all she deserved was my anger and hatred, right? And this was not only the case of my mother. Every time in my life someone hurt me I decided all I would ever feel for them again would be anger. Because if I have forgiven them, it would make me weak and they would be able to hurt me again. And then I met you and in you, I met a person that has always been nice to everyone. Even the people who have hurt her, even those who have been rude to her, strangers, a person that, despite my efforts to push her away, despite me being an absolute asshole, has always shown me how much she cared and that she would be there for me,” he gulped and took a deep breath before going on.

“When the leakage happened, I went to see Travis with Dr. Trinh. He never told me anything that could help us and I hated him with every single cell in my body. As I was leaving the room he was in, he asked me to help him with his pain, to increase the morphine dosage. I could see that he was suffering but I was so angry with him that I left him to suffer. It was on our way back to the hospital when it hit me. That if it were you at my place, you would never leave him to suffer, no matter how much hatred you felt. You are everything I have never been, Chiara and only now I know that your kindness, your ability to forgive, that none of it makes you weaker. That you are the strongest person I know. When I asked you what would you do, with Louise I mean, I knew very well that you would give her a second chance. I just needed to hear you say that. To remind me that if I gave her the chance, I wouldn’t be weak.”

Chiara smiled at him lightly and took his free hand into hers, not wanting to burden the lightness that surrounded them with worthless words.

˜

Thirty minutes later, Ethan parked his car in the garage of his building and leaned his head into the seat back, closing his eyes.

“I was thinking about making Thai red curry for dinner, how does that sound to you?” he asked with his eyes still closed.

Chiara was looking at him, her expression both surprised and amused.

When it took her too long to answer, Ethan opened his eyes and turned to her.

“What is it? Do you hate curry?”

“What? No, not at all. I am just, well, surprised you took me here. To your place, I mean.”

Ethan furrowed his brows in utter confusion as he shrugged: “Well you said you wanted to go home so I took you-“

He stopped mid-sentence as he realized what has just happened. Opening and closing his mouth for a few times he was gaining himself some time to form a coherent sentence.

“I am sorry, Chiara. Jesus, I don’t know what I was thinking, I mean, I clearly wasn’t thinking. Of course you meant your place. Chiara I am so sorry, let me just take you there and-“

He was stopped again, this time by Chiara’s lips pressed against his.

You are a fucking idiot, Ramsey, he thought as she kissed him, feeling her grinning. All she wanted was to go home. Her home. The one where she lives. With her roommates. Imbecile.

“Stop apologizing,” she smiled as she broke the kiss. “The curry sounds great.”

˜

They were sitting at the opposite sides of the table, both simply playing with the food on their still half-full plates.

“You’ve hardly even eaten anything,” Chiara pointed out when she noticed Ethan putting his fork down.

“Do you want to compare?” he asked back, gesturing toward her plate.

He didn’t say it to make her feel bad or to push her to finish her meal. Ethan knew Chiara wasn’t doing this on purpose, nor had it anything to do with his cooking abilities. Through the weeks, he’s noticed how drastically has her appetite decreased and how she hasn’t really gotten it back.

With everything going on these past few months, neither of them could actually eat or sleep.

Chiara simply shrugged and noticing the watch at his wrist, she asked: “What time is it, please?”

He watched down and answered: “Half past eight.”

“Precisely half past eight?”

“Precisely thirty-two minutes past eight. Why are you asking?”

8:32 PM.

At 8:37 they came to the room to take Rafael away because he slipped into coma.

At 8:39 Ethan told me that Danny was dead.

“Huh? I am just curious,” she lied and needing to change the topic, she asked another question. “Do you feel somehow lighter now that you got your closure?”

It was Ethan’s turn to shrug – and maybe even to lie.

“I actually do feel lighter. It was something I didn’t know I needed. But I am also scared – I promised Louise to visit her and now I feel like it was a stupid promise. I will hardly be able to see her again anytime soon.”

“I can come with you every time if it would help. Louise already thinks we are good friends.”

“She does?”

“She told me while she was in the hospital. Apparently, that’s what your dad told her.”

Ethan groaned, obviously bothered by the fact that his parents talk about him and Chiara at all.  However, after a while, he simply muttered: “I guess I should give my dad an update, then.”

Chiara laughed loudly at the remark, the first real laugh Ethan’s heard from her all day. Knowing that both of them were finished with their meals, he took the plates back to the kitchen and decided to wash the dishes too while he was there. It gave him some more time to compose himself, to allow himself to simply feel lighter and happier, without the haunting feelings of doubt and fear of being hurt again.

He also felt guilty. Chiara has been through so much and even though she tried to act like she was okay, he knew her. And he could see rather clearly that she was not okay. On those precious nights they’ve spent together, he could hear her screaming from her sleep.

Please, you don’t have to do this.

Not Danny.

Not Bobby.

Just kill me.

Not Raf.

Travis stop!

Just kill me.

No. no, NO!

It could go on like this through the whole night. And here he was, burdening her with his family issues.

“You do realize that you own a dishwasher, right?” she disturbed his thoughts with wide grin on her face, leaning against a doorframe.

“I am sorry, Chiara,” he blurted out before he could even think about it. “I shouldn’t have dragged you into this. I know you have enough on your plate and it was selfish from me to ask you to do this with me.”

She closed the distance between them and gently stopped the water, handing him the dishcloth to dry his hands. After she made sure he was all set, she hugged his waist tightly, resting her head on his chest.

Ethan circled his arms around her petite form and closed his eyes, letting her rose-yasmine perfume rule over his senses, taking him to the place where it could be just the two of them.

Where they could be happy.

Where they wouldn’t be broken.

“I am so happy you dragged me into this. I want to be part of your life and that means all the aspects of it. Let me be there for you, okay?”

“Will you stay for the night?” he whispered into her hair and felt his shoulders relax when he felt her nod.

After taking a quick shower, Ethan entered his bedroom in his grey pajama bottoms and didn’t even try to suppress a smile that found a way onto his mouth when he spotted Chiara sitting on the bed in nothing but his shirt, reading a poetry book she found on his bedside table.

“Come here,” she waved her hand as she closed the book and leaned into the bedframe.

Ethan sat at the edge of the bed, waiting for further instructions and was rather surprised when she pulled him toward her, his head landing in her lap. Immediately, Chiara started to play with Ethan’s hair, massaging his scalp softly.

“I can see that there is something else bothering you, Ethan.”

“There is.”

“Do you want to tell me?”

“I am scared, Chiara,” he whispered.

Chiara simply kept stroking his hair, waiting for him to elaborate his statement.

“What if I am just like her? It makes so much sense now that I see why she left us. I finally know what I have been suspecting - and fearing - all those years. That I am the picture of my dear mother.”

“How do you mean that?”

“I have always hated her for leaving us, for running away, when really, I am doing the same thing every time life gets hard. When Naveen was dying and I thought he wouldn’t be saved, I left Edenbrook. When Dolores died, I stormed out of the waiting room when you reached out to me. After your trial when it became clear that we would be working together again, I left to Brazil. And all those times I kept telling myself that it was better for the others, that I was doing it for the hospital, for Naveen, for you, when really, all I was doing was running away like a fucking coward I was. All those years I blamed my mother for hurting us and now I am doing the same to the people I care about. What if I can never change? What if I am destined to be the same failure she was? What if I hurt you again?”

There was a long silence.

Ethan hugged Chiara’s waist and closed his eyes, scared that she realized that he was right and would leave him now.

Chiara’s eyes were filled with tears as she pressed her lips on Ethan’s head, her heart broken for the man with the biggest heart, only to have it filled with so much hatred and doubt toward himself.

“If there’s something you are destined for, Ethan, it’s all the great, beautiful things in this world. And you deserve someone to show you how worthy of love you are. I will be here with you tonight, okay? Try to sleep. I am not going anywhere. Not now, not ever.”

He simply nodded, the words stuck in his throat. As if there were any words that could ever describe the way he felt with Chiara.

After she was sure that Ethan was deeply in his sleep, Chiara gently untangled herself from his grip and headed back to the living room, where she left her phone. She knew that Sienna was on her night shift tonight and so she needed to text her.

It became their ritual through these past weeks, checking on each other on the nights they didn’t spend together.

Chiara knew that, just like herself, Sienna was far from okay. She knew they were both trying their hardest to act normal and she also knew that they were both failing miserably. But Chiara had Ethan looking out for her.

Sienna had no one.

There were nights when they would sleep together in Chiara’s room, crying, talking about Danny and how much Sienna missed him, hugging each other until the sleep found them. And when they couldn’t be together, they would text each other to make sure that the other one was as alright as she possibly could be.

After returning back to the bed, Chiara found Ethan sleeping on his side, his back turned to her. Trying to adjust her little body behind him so that she could be the big spoon for tonight – which was ironic really, as she could never be anything big compared to Ethan – she wrapped her hand around his torso and after making sure that his breaths were slow and steady and therefore he was asleep, she said the words she wanted to tell him for a long time but never did, afraid of scaring him.

“I love you.”

After that, she closed her eyes and not even a minute later, she drifted off.

Ethan felt her small, warm arm as she wrapped it around his body, but decided to pretend to be asleep, not wanting to ruin the moment and also her attempt to somehow surround him completely.

His whole body stiffed at her words and it took him all the willpower he had to not to turn around and look at her. Only when he heard her soft snores indicating that she was asleep, he enlaced his fingers with hers on his chest as he whispered:

“And I you.”

Once again, THANK YOU GUYS: @queencarb @perriewinklenerdie @starrystarrytrouble @the-pale-goddess @catchinglikekerosene @udishaman @messrprongs

[sarainstuff]

A lucky meeting

Jack the Leerie x Reader

A casual meeting in a dark street with a charming lamplighter makes the reader question everything she knew and will help her broken heart to heal and love again.

Hello hello hello, here it is the first chapter of a new story involving our favorite leerie. I honestly have no idea of when the second chapter will come out and this chapter also ends in a sort of "cliffhanger", nothing too big in my opinion but if you want closure then I guess this isn't the right time.

I hope you'll enjoy it!

TRIGGER WARNING: AT THE VERY BEGINNING THERE IS A DESCRIPTION OF A WOMAN BEIGN CHASED BY A MAN, IT'S LITERALLY A COUPLE LINES LONG

Read it on AO3

The echo of your shoes on the paved road and your raggedy breath were the only sounds on the empty dark street. Your lungs were on fire for the long run and your eyes were filled with tears for the fatigue, but you couldn’t stop yet, you weren't safe yet.

You turned around to see if the man chasing you was still there, that was when you tripped and banged your chin on the unforgiving pavement. You had to get back up, you had to run again or it would have been the end of you, but you just couldn’t convince your legs to work, so you praied that the man was far gone now, as you tried to catch your breath feeling the taste of blood in your mouth.

You felt a slight nudge on your shoulder and you froze, trying to hold your breath and pretending to be unconscious, hoping that you will be left alone.

“Miss? Are you alright miss? “

The voice you heard wasn’t the one of your chaser. It seemed kind and full of concern, but you knew better to not trust a stranger. A cover isn't a book.

After being tricked many times by apparently good men, you learnt to not trust anyone. The reason why you were laying on the ground right now was pretty eloquent on why that was a stupid idea. 

“Miss? Are you hurt?” the kind voice said, nudging on your shoulder once again. 

You gained a little bit of strength and you hoped that would have been enough to run away if the situation worsened, so you turned your head around to meet the owner of the voice. 

The man was kneeling next to you under a lamplight and the light reminded you of a halo around his head.

It took you a moment to take in the features of his face: he seemed to be fairly young, probably around his thirties, he sported a slight stubble and overall he looked as kind as his voice. You hated to admit that to yourself, but he was kind of cute. 

“Hello miss, is everything alright?” he asked tilting his head. He was definitely a stubborn man, any other person would have just walked away or taken advantage of you, but this man didn’t look like any other.

You got up on your knees, slightly hurting from your fall “Yeah, I’m alright” you said sarcastically.

The man giggled a little at your comment. He got up on his feet and handed out his hands to you “You need help getting up?”

“No thanks I can manage that myself” you said with confidence. Way too much confidence, because as soon as you stood up your legs gave out and you would have fallen again if that stranger didn’t catch you in time.

“Gotcha!” he said smiling kindly. That was a really sweet smile, you couldn’t deny it.

“Thanks” you mumbled, feeling a little annoyed about the help.

“You are welcome, miss”

“Stop calling me miss, nobody calls me like that” you sourly said. 

“Then what is your name?”

“Y/N” you mumbled

“Is a very lovely name” the stranger said.

It was weird because he said it like he really meant it and not just to be polite. You definetly haven’t met anyone like him before, but you still tried to keep up a thug appearance. 

“My name’s Jack, I’m a lamplighter” he said with a radiant smile. You knew about the lamplighters, you often saw them going around at night, they would gather up once their shift was over and share a pint or two, singing and speaking in their own weird language (to be honest, you believed they were simply too drunk to remember English), but they seemed to be a very cheerful group. 

You realized that you were still standing between Jack’s arms. You reluctantly let go, feeling all of the sudden way too much cold without him, but trying to hide it

“Thank you for your help, Jack, I think that I can handle myself now” you said, hoping that would make it true. 

Jack’s face got immediately serious. He reached out a hand towards your face and you jumped straight away, worried by his sudden motion. Could it be that you were fooled once again by the kindness of a stranger? 

Jack tried to get closer but soon realized his mistake “I’m sorry” he said “I didn’t mean to scare you, I just noticed that your chin was bleeding”. 

You touched your chin and it was, in fact, bleeding. Jack produced a clothed tissue from one of his pocket “May I? “ he asked politely. 

You went closer to him under the light. Normally you would have never trusted someone like this, but Jack had plenty of ways to hurt you and never did anything. You were still on the edge, catching any worrying signs, but you didn’t felt as scared as before “Thank you… “ you mumbled. 

“Tell me if it hurts” Jack said, tilting your head up delicately with one hand. Under the light, you could see his face better and you were struck by his deep brown eyes. They were probably the most beautiful pair of eyes you’d ever seen, it was like swimming inside warm cocoa, such a piercing yet calming gaze that made it impossible to look away. 

Jack was very delicate as he lightly tapped your chin, whenever you flinched in pain he would stroke your cheek tightly with his thumb, gently shushing you down.

You didn’t know what to do, your feelings towards this man were very conflicted: on one side you wanted to believe that, as strange as it was, Jack was actually very sweet and kind. You knew that he was already stuck in your heart and for how hard you could try, you would have never forgotten him.

But your most reasonable part was still trying to warn you to not give all of this confidence to a stranger, your experience recounted to you of all the times you had faith in someone and those people crushed it. You weren’t ready to trust anyone so quickly ever again, but could Jack be the only exception? You weren’t ready to find out.

“There you are, you are good as new” Jack said with a huge smile. You noticed that his hand lingered a second too longer on your cheek, but maybe you were just overthinking about it. You thanked him and were about to say goodbye to him, when Jack stopped you immediately “You can’t go home alone at night, it might be dangerous”. You thought about the man chasing you and realized how lucky you have been to escape him.

“So you offer to protect me from the darkness, Mr. lamplighter?” you asked sarcastically cocking an eyebrow “Don’t be offended but as far as I know, you could be a scoundrel yourself and I highly doubt you could beat someone in a fight”.

Jack snorted at your commentary “I guess that if I look as weak as you say you’ll have no problem escaping me. But I can assure you that I’m not that kind of person. Plus I have a bike, I could get you home faster” he said pointing at it.

“It looks pretty unstable to me, is that how you hurt your victim? You let them fall off your bike? “you asked. That made him laugh and you felt your insides dancing along that warm music.

You had no idea where this was going to end, but you were enjoying this little flirting and secretly hoped Jack felt the same way.

“C’mon now, nobody ever fell off my bike, I promise you” Jack said handing out his hand for you to take it.

You gladly accepted it, the thrill of the unknown running down your spine. You sat right in front of him, Jack’s arms close to yours, as he leaned over you to give himself a push and start riding.

It was nice to be held in this half embrace, you felt Jack’s warmth on your back and his breath on your neck, but most importantly, you felt safe for the very first time in a while.

“Where are we going miss?” Jack asked, his lips close to your ear. You were grateful to be looking away from him because otherwise, he would have seen you blushing.

A thought occurred into your mind: you couldn’t tell him where you lived, what if he changed his mind after he discovered the truth? What if you’d never seen him again?

“Y/N? Is everything alright?” Jack said, worried about your silence. You turned your head slightly to look at him and as he looked down at you, your lips were close. This small moment of distraction was fatal since one of the wheels of the bike ran into a branch in the middle of the street and you both fell down. 

Jack hold you tight to his chest to prevent you from hitting the ground and landed on his back with you on top of him, everything happened so fast and it took you a while to realize how inappropriate the situation was.

Jack was hissing in pain under you, he had probably hit his head, you tried to turn around but then you noticed that in the midst of the fall he grabbed you on your chest. Jack stopped his complaining and retracted his hand immediately, allowing you to roll next to him as your cheeks grew redder and he repeatedly said how sorry he was.

“Jack are you alright?” you asked as you reached for him, trying to calm him down.

“Yeah, I’m alright” He said massaging his head “Actually i think that I might be bleeding a little”. 

You turned around him and checked the back of his head, thankfully there was no trace of blood there 

“Oh Jack, I’m incredibly sorry…”

“Nothing to be sorry about,  it was my fault” he said turning his head to face you. Very closer to you, once again.

 

You were drawn by that dark pair of eyes once again but rapidly averted his gaze as you felt a slight blush appearing on your cheeks once again. You got up and offered Jack a hand to help him on his feet.

“His hands are so warm” you thought before scolding you once again. What was up with you and this handsome lamplighter, for God’s sake? 

You looked down at his bike and noticed that one of the tires was slashed. It really wasn't a lucky night for none of you two.

Jack was kneeling down to examine his bike, worry on his face. You felt so sorry for what happened, he was just trying to help you and now his bike was broken, you needed to help him and made up for it, the least you could do was offering a place to sleep.

“Look Jack” you whispered getting closer to him as he looked up at you “my house isn’t far from here, you can sleep at my place if-“

He jumped up and interrupted you “No, no, no absolutely not. Miss I can’t abuse of your kindness, it wouldn’t be fair and I-"

You took his hands and looked at him straight in the eyes “Please Jack, you can’t come back home this late and you are injured. You will get some sleep and I’ll help you fix your bike tomorrow”

You held his hands tighter and searched for his eyes in the dark “You helped me before, let me return the favor”. 

Jack looked away and untangled from your hands, you thought you saw a small blush on his cheek. Oh God if he was cute. 

“It wouldn’t be very appropriate” he said looking down at his bike "we don't really know each other..." 

You sourly smiled “That won’t be a problem…”

“What do you mean?” he said tilting his head 

You took a deep breath, ready for the worse. 

“I live in a brothel…  and I work there too”

[nellie-elizabeth]

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier: Truth (1x05)

Well, okay then.

Cons:

I've complained about the uneven time given to Sam and Bucky, and while I appreciate where this episode went with everything, it did shine a further light on how little Sam has had to do all season. How his growth has been happening in the background to other things. I wish the balance could have been changed a little.

I also continue to be less interested in the Flag Smashers than I am in anything else in the show. Not the ideology or how they function politically in this world, but the actual individual characters. Spending time getting to know them makes sense, it humanizes their struggles and what they're willing to sacrifice for their cause. But I just don't find Karli to be a particularly compelling individual, so it makes those scenes a slough to get through.

The opening fight scene between Sam, Bucky, and John Walker was good, but it wasn't great. The whole time I was watching it I kept thinking about the Tony/Steve/Bucky fight at the end of Civil War, three men fighting, the shield pinging between them. So much angst and desperation and history and weight to the whole thing. This fight should have been like that, but instead it felt a little more measured. Sam and Bucky are fighting to take the shield away from a dangerous man who has clearly lost control. It almost felt like they were just doing a job. Their connection to the shield was muted during the fight itself, which made that final beat, when Bucky throws the shield down at Sam's side and walks off, hit a little less hard.

And that's one other thing - I loved the Sam and Bucky talk, of course I did. Bucky needed to apologize and it was great to see. But what changed Bucky's mind? We see Sam's journey, but Bucky starts the episode still in that mindset of blaming Sam, and then he comes and helps with the boat, and then he apologizes. What made him realize that he needed to adjust his perspective? I wish I could have understood that a bit more. The only scene we get of him on his own is with Zemo, and that bit of closure seems wholly disconnected to the stuff with the shield.

Pros:

This is a small thing, but I've gotta bring it up: when Bucky is apologizing to Sam, he says "when Steve told me what he was planning"... and when I tell you I screamed... this is literally so important to me. I hate the end of Endgame for Steve. I truly do. The one thing that makes it bearable is the head-canon that he cleared it with Bucky first, that Bucky knew, before Steve left to go return the stones, what he was going to do. And now we have actual canon confirmation that that was the case! I am so incredibly moved by that, I can't even tell you.

But let's talk about that whole scene, shall we? I feel like I could ramble on about it for quite some time, but I'll just say that seeing them throw the shield around like a damn football was so... funny? But also sweet? There's something here about men and how they communicate and how hard it can be to break down the walls and be vulnerable. They manage it because they frame it around a physical activity, with the shared symbol of complicated national loyalties bouncing around between them. Also, the shared symbol of their dead friend Steve. It opens up something between them, allowing Sam to give his "tough love" advice. Allowing Bucky to give a heartfelt apology. It's the stuff they never would have said to each other in that therapy session, but they can say it now, and that's beautiful. The best moment for me, and it was really subtle, was Bucky handing the shield to Sam, saying sorry. Then Sam continues to throw it against the trees and let it bounce back, and he does it specifically so Bucky can catch it again. So there's this almost ceremonial hand-off, and then Sam, magnanimous, lets Bucky know it's still a part of him too.

And Bucky talking about the shield as his family? Yes please. I love it so much. This scene really wrapped up Bucky's arc for me on this show, in a way I hadn't known to expect. Sam tells him that Steve is gone, and that it doesn't matter what Steve thought, or what he meant. Bucky needs to stop defining himself solely by other people. This doesn't mean the struggle is over. Bucky's got a long road ahead. But he understands that road now, and Sam helped him to find his way, which I think is just the loveliest thing.

Another thing about the way these men communicate, is that the apology was necessary, and it was good that it happened, but even before that apology, Bucky showed up and helped with the boat. He fished for an invite to stay, and Sam gave it without question. They joke about being "partners", no, "co-workers," "just two guys who had a mutual friend," but the fact is, they're a part of each other's lives, and they come through for each other. Even with lingering resentments.

I'll talk briefly about Zemo here before we get into the Sam stuff in this episode... I kind of love that he went gently with the Wakandans. It was so different from what I expected, and yet it also followed logically from everything we knew about him from Civil War. It felt like a natural button to his arc on this show. And him telling Bucky that there's no resentment on his end... I mean, on the one hand, I sure as fuck would hope not, given what Zemo tried to do to Bucky. But also that's the point, isn't it? Sam says as much during the tough love speech. Bucky needs to make amends by being of service, by giving closure to the people he hurt as the Winter Solider. Even if they were bad people. Even if they don't "deserve" it.

I still worry about the optics of Sam taking on the shield instead of retiring it permanently. But I was impressed by how far the show was willing to go in explaining the weight of that choice. Isaiah doesn't say some party line like "I love America but these were some bad people." He doesn't say "things were bad then but they're better now." No. He says the truth, which is that America did this to him. It wasn't one bad actor sneaking through an otherwise benevolent system. It was a corrosive, systemic issue that ruined his life, separated him from his loved ones, forced him to hide away and live as a dead man. And he's telling Sam that it's still like that. Oh, sure, things have changed. But not as much as they need to, and not in the ways that really count for a lot, a lot of people.

I respect that the show laid this out, didn't pull its punches in stating this reality. Sam is being positioned as perhaps naïve, overly optimistic, in still wanting to take that pain and make something good from it. Overly optimistic? Willing to jump into situations that are too big for any one man to manage, no matter what? Well, if there's a list of qualifiers for Captain America, I'd say Sam fits the bill just as much, if not more, than Steve did.

And we see that Sam has a community, a history, a deep connection to his sister and his nephews and all the people his parents knew back in the day. I'm a sucker for a good moment like the one we got with the boat, everyone turning up to help. And then Sarah saying that they can't sell it after all... it's just so moving. Sam's fighting the big fights and the small ones, and that makes him worthy of being an exemplar of human excellence. If he wants to fight that fight while holding the shield, I would trust him to try and turn the symbol into something worthy.

Briefly, I want to talk about Lemar. That scene where John went to his parents was really interesting, because it showed that opinions on these very serious issues are by no means shared universally. You've got Isaiah saying that no black man with any self respect would ever take up the shield. Then you've got Lemar's parents saying how proud their son was to be Captain America's partner. It's a lot more complicated than people want to make it. Things would be simpler if we all agreed that America sucks and its history and legacy is negative and racist and therefore let's burn the whole thing to the ground. But there are a lot of people, a lot of black Americans, who like being Americans, who are proud to serve their country. It's not an attitude I know how to understand, but pretending it doesn't exist isn't doing anyone any favors. I like that we saw this aspect of it, too.

A couple last tidbits, moments I really enjoyed.

- Bucky flirting with Sarah.

- Sam's nephews playing with the shield, Bucky waking up and smiling at the sight.

- The super relevant, super hard to hear scene at the end of all the government officials getting ready to round up refugees and march them back across borders... like, damn.

- Bucky forgetting he has a metal arm, but then later using it to save Sam some trouble on the boat.

This was a great episode. Do I have qualms about the arc of the series as a whole? Yes I do. I'll be very curious to see where everything lands in next week's finale. But in all, this one was a winner in my books.

9/10

[chick-from-nz]

Paper, Scissors, Rank (Ch: 9)

CHARACTER/PAIRING: Modern!Carrillo x Army!OC (eventually) 

WARNINGS: maybe some swearing, military slang, more military talk,  spelling and grammatical errors. Flippy floppy points of view and tenses. Could be very OOC/AU for some. Carrillo may not be narcos accurate as this is an AU. Some OC x OC. awkwardly written moments. Sexual tension. some NSFW content. Mentions of death,  child endangerment, TW: car crash. 

AUTHORS NOTE: ok so this chapter went a little darkish at the start and then very different at the end. not gonna lie a little bit giddy and proud of this chapter, hope you all enjoy, sorry for the wait between the chapters. would also love to hear any predictions about where the fic may go.

WORD COUNT: 5.5K  

CHAPTER:  9 OF ?

TAG LIST (OPEN): @girlpornparadise @1zashreena1 @xxidontwikeitxx @nicke0115 @allalngthewtchtower @lettherebrelight

** **

                                                  ~15 years ago~

“Ashlyn honey, come on, we don’t want to be late ”  her mother, Teressa, yelled out from the bottom of the stairs, laughing softly to herself when she heard the mad rush of footsteps on the wooden floors before seeing her eight year old daughter running towards her with all her might, only to halt army style and stare up at her with wide eyes.  There was not a single soul that could deny the resemblance between the two of them, they shared the striking green eyes and red-brown hair of the Sayer family, both had a boisterous take no shit attitude and the same little quirks and tells when they were upset. Which Teressa could tell was the case with her daughter right this minute.  She reached down and pulled her young daughter into her embrace, balancing her on her hip as she made haste towards their car, “what's wrong baby? What’s got you thinking, hmm?” 

Ash looked up at her mum, teary eyed and mumbled, “I don’t want daddy to get mad at me, I didn’t mean to hit that boy, he just said some mean things about daddy and I got really angry”. Little sniffles were becoming more and more prevalent as she continued talking, try as she might the little girl couldn’t fathom why people would speak bad about her family, they were all so nice!. She clumsily climbed down from her mum's arms and hopped up into her car seat, clipping her belt before pulling on it dramatically to prove that she was actually clipped in. Ash then let out a small gleeful laugh when her mum bopped her on the nose before walking around the car to get into the driver's seat to start on their journey to the principal's office to find out the punishment for the young girls justified behaviour. 

The journey to the school would take longer than necessary, unexpected road closures with no concrete explanations from the officers monitoring the road blocks had forced Teressa to take the back roads and add an extra forty minutes to their already long commute for a Saturday morning. Travelling along generally unused and quiet roads was somewhat of an unusual experience for Ash, having been used to seeing cars passing by every other minute and looking at houses rather than vast open fields. As they passed round a corner, entering a tree lined road with dense forest on either side of them, an unsettling feeling overcame the young mother, there was a strange darkness that clung to the air, setting off alarm bells within. She remained calm as possible as to not alert Ashlynn that something was wrong, as the young girl was far too perceptive for her age, a trait that she had inherited from her fathers side of the family. She glanced back at her daughter, noticing that she was rather quiet, but let out a small sigh of relief when she noted that she had dozed off, head slumped against the panel of the door and her hair covering her face, snoring away softly to herself. It was in this brief moment of distraction that Teressa failed to notice the truck approaching rapidly from behind, when she did she increased her speed well beyond the speed limit, keeping an eye on a sleeping Ash to make sure she didn’t wake up and begin to start asking questions like the curious little thing always did.

As her speed increased the blacked out vehicle behind them only got faster until it was a mere meter behind their car, seeing no other option she pushed the car to its limits, approaching the upcoming intersection at speeds that should terrify her beyond means, but in this moment she was focusing on only one thing, protecting her innocent daughter in the back seat. As she passed through the intersection a scream forced its way from her throat, just through the intersection sat a parked truck blocking the road. Teressa knew she wouldn’t be able to stop in time so she swerved sharply to the right, hearing the screaming of the tires as they went from smooth asphalt to the gravely uneven surface that bordered the edge of the road. The steering of the car locked up, Teressa tried with all her might to get it moving again but was forced to endure the inevitable pain from the collision that was about to happen, with what may be her final words to her daughter she turned to look at Ash, tears filling her eyes when she took in the terrified expression on the young girls’ face, and whispered “I love you baby girl”

When Ash woke up she was sprawled on the grass a few feet from the car, rain was pouring down putting a darker spin on the event occurring. There were people standing around her, albeit a few feet away and semi-huddled together, and something warm was running into her left eye. Reaching up and feeling a thick, sticky substance she pulled her hand down to get a better look, a terrified scream leaving her small body when she noticed her hand washed red with blood. Her scream drew the attention of the people huddled together but they dismissed her without some much as a disgruntled look, they weren’t there for her. Ash glanced around, frightened and searching for her mum, who she found in a heap a meter or so to the left of her. With great difficulty she managed to crawl over to her mum, gathering her head and shaking her when she wouldn’t wake up.

“Mummy please! I’m sorry, no mummy please! Please wake up mummy, I need you” Tears poured from the eyes of the young bruised girl, mixing in with the blood as she desperately tried to wake her mum up. Her little body was exhausted from the effort, shivering from the cold seeping into her bones from the rain, and the toll of the crash began to take effect, she was becoming drowsy, a sure sign of a concussion. Ash felt a small wave of relief was over her when the eyes of her mothers’ met her own, the tears never halted, dripping off her face and landing on the face of her mother, mixing in with the blood that was covering the once beautiful face of her mum, now marred by sliced and bruised flesh.  Her mum pulled her head towards herself, pressing a short but meaningful kiss to her forehead before her body began to go limp.  “Ashy, darling, hold Mumma close for a little while”  the broken voice of her mother rang clear in her ears.

Ash pulled her mums’ head as close to her little chest as possible, crying out and trying with all her might to keep her mum with her till help could arrive. With one last shuddering breath her mother passed, she was gone, no matter how tightly Ash held her. Looking down and seeing the closed eyes of her mother, she panicked, screaming out for the group of people to try and get their attention or at least their help.  “Please help me, my mummy won’t wake up! I need my mummy, please help me!” 

One of the men started towards her, dressed in clothes very similar to that of her father, before coming to a stop before her. He looked over the child thoughtfully, knowing the orders he was given deemed only that the woman be killed and the girl to be delivered to the hospital in a recoverable state, sighing to himself he reached down and hoisted the girl up and made haste towards one of the trucks. 

“Put me down! I want my mummy. Don't take me away from her! MUMMY!!!!”  the girl cried and screamed and beat at the man that was carrying her. She didn't understand. Why was the man taking her away from the one good thing in her life.  Ash watched as the other men made their way towards her mum, before picking her up and beginning to chain her to the tree. One of the men pulled out a large knife which had the young girl screaming at the top of her lungs, “Leave my mummy alone! Just leave her alone you bully! Dont touch her!”  the men just laughed at her, mocking her pitiful cries. She was unceremoniously thrown into the backseat of one of the vehicles, effectively cutting off her view of the men outside.

The young man climbed into the driver's seat, this was his first assignment within the force and he was disgusted by the behaviour of the team. His gaze travelled out the side window just in time to watch the team commander behead the young woman they had just killed, his stomach turned even further when the men began taking turns carving something into the body as they chained her up to the tree and left her there for someone to find. With the signal from his commander he started the car and made haste towards the nearest hospital to get the young, tortured girl seen too as fast as possible, her eyes were drooping and she was beyond pale which scared him. He felt for the young girl, having to go through so much at a young age because of the wrongdoings of her father. 

                                                      ~present~

Ash would never forget the sounds of the crash, the shattering of the glass or the painful scream that left her mothers’ lips the moment before both their worlds went dark that day. The final words of her mother were painfully etched into her memory, a grim reminder of that fateful day, and in tribute to her fallen parent the words “A little weakness goes a long way” were tattooed above her heart, words she stuck to as much as possible. 

**

**

She sucked in a deep breath of air in an attempt to re-center herself with her surroundings and shake off the ghostly shivers of her broken past. She rubbed her hand across her face, wiping away the tears before scoffing out a vacant laugh. “Every damn year, without fail, I get these... these dreams about it ya know?. It’s like I can’t escape my past. I’m constantly thinking ‘what could I have done better, why couldn’t I have been a more grounded child’. If I had just controlled my anger my mum might still be here today” 

The broken sob that left the young soldier had the Colonels’ heart clenching in his chest and his hands tightening on the steering wheel, almost uncomfortably so. He knew all too well the effects blaming oneself had on the mind. There were many things he took the blame for or blamed himself for as an inexperienced officer in his younger days, he would not allow the girl beside him to fall into that trap any longer given there was likely a deeply buried explanation to the event, one he would commit to finding. While keeping a close eye on the road ahead he reached over to wrap Ash’s hand tightly beneath one of his own effectively hoping to silence her racing thoughts and give her something more tangible to focus on. She was one of his own now, a team member that needed to be looked after as thoroughly as possible, but also someone that, dare he say it, was slowly becoming more than that. 

Ash’s head shot up in surprise when she felt the large warm hand grasp her own, it brought a wave of unexpected comfort to her being, warming her to her core. Turning her attention from the hand over her own to the face of the man beside her she gulped. His shoulders were drawn up tight, hand gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles were white, his jaw was clenched to the point she could have sworn she heard his teeth grinding. His brow has drawn now and his mouth was drawn into a tight line, he was clearly displeased, no, angered by her past she just confessed, the anger that had settled in his deep brown eyes had a chill racing down her spine, it was a look of cold calculation, one she was sure many of has enemies had seen moments before their death. Gathering a small amount of courage she covered his hand with her other and began rubbing small unconscious circles into the side of his thumb, letting a small relieved breath when she saw some of the tension leave his body.

**

**

A short time had passed and they had reached the hospital; the tension had now left Ash’s body, with the weight of telling Carrillo about some of her destructive past now off her shoulders she felt like the awkwardness of the previous week had been all but forgotten. Her now unwavering trust in the man beside her somewhat frightened her, coupled in with the ever growing feelings she knew she was in far too deep. There was a silent agreement between the two of them that Ash would go to the medics while Carrillo would head to the archives to try and find files that would be useful to the team, they would reconvene at the car within the next two hours. 

Upon entering the hospital and being directed to the outpatient clinic Ash was greeted by a very familiar face, “Captain Lisa Ortiz, my god it has been too long”. The smile that graced her face was pure and genuine, seeing a long lost family friend after so long was a relief and a huge shock to the system, but a good one at that. Ash wasn’t even aware that the Captain had returned from deployment, the last time she’d seen the woman was at her graduation parade when Ash had not long turned eighteen. She had grown up down the road from the amazing woman and as it turned out the Captain was now dating her favourite Lieutenant, Lt. Henry O’Connor. 

“My god, little Ashy is that you, come over here girl” Captain Ortiz beckoned her over before wrapping her in a bear hug, she used to babysit the kid when she was a young tot, and furthermore after her mother had passed. Ash’s father, more often than not, would drop her on the Ortiz family doorstep and disappear for weeks on end, she had all but raised this girl and was proud that she had followed her dreams and joined the force. “Right, you, we have some catching up to do, head down to the third room on the right and I’ll be there after I’ve found your files”  she had pointed down the corridor signaling the direction she wanted the 2nd Lieutenant to go, a pleased smile gracing her face when she watched the young thing wander off with a new found bounce in her step. 

Ash was startled from her thoughts when the Captain entered the room before plonking herself down rather ungracefully into the chair beside her. “I read the report Greys, what the fuck! Have they found who did that to you? That's some messed up shit girl, glad you’re ok though kiddo” She reached over and ruffled Ash’s hair not giving her a moment to answer the questions thrown at her before standing up to grab some gloves and some tools to begin removing the younger officers’ stitches.  “Right up on the bed, shirt off, I’m sure by now you’ll be wanting those stitches out”

Ash only nodded, shaking her head with a brief laugh before pulling her shirt over her head and climbing onto the bed like she was asked, she was far to content to do as she was told given how much she trusted the woman before her, she’d admired her since she was a small child and inspired to be like her even now. Lisa began carefully removing the stitches from her side, poking and prodding here and there to make sure she was most definitely healed like she should be, when one particularly hard poke had Ash wincing, she knew the Captain had found the slightly marred skin from where she had pulled those stitches. 

“So...” the Captain began, “I heard a dit Greys. About you, a certain LT. Colonel and then a certain international guest. Care to share?”. 

The shiteating grin that was currently taking up Lisa’s face told Ash all she needed to know. The Captain already knew everything about the whole ‘Sinclair situation’ so there really wasn’t much to tell there, but from what she remembered about the slightly older woman, she always got the answers she wanted, Ash really couldn’t hide anything from her if she tried. “Damn it Lisa, just spit it out, what do you wanna know” she said with a jeering tone, she knew forgoing rank with the Captain wouldn’t drop her in the shit, the benefits of knowing someone since you were five years old. It was funny watching Lisa try and find the right words to say, the furrowing of her brow and the opening and closing of her mouth like a fish out of water nearly had Ash in tears, it was quite the sight.

**

**

“From what I’ve heard the LT. Colonel was a bit of an asshole to you, kid. But I also remember a certain eighteen year old having it bad for him when she attended my graduation parade. I wonder who that could be...” Lisa trailed off with a chuckle. She was sure that by now Ash had all but forgotten about her nagging antics involving the man she no doubt despised nowadays, but it was still a moment of great amusement for the Captain. “Little eighteen year old you just wouldn’t shut up about him. Sinclair this, Sinclair that, honestly kid I'm surprised you never tried to jump that dick near the end of training”  Ortiz paused for a moment, considering something before having a light bulb moment, “Unless it's because of a certain Columbian hunk I’ve heard so much about from some of the medics in your intake...”  She knew she’d hit the jackpot when Ash blushed beet-red from her hairline to her neck. “Awww, does little Ashy have a crush on the big bad Colonel?”

Ash didn’t know what to say, she had honestly forgotten about how she had crushed on the LT. Colonel before she really even knew him, embarrassingly enough her reactions towards him kind of made sense now. She was going to attempt to deny her ever mounting crush on the Colonel she now lived and worked with but given the reaction Lisa had given, she knew she’d been caught out.  “Even after all these years you’re still a gossiping teen” Ash choked out with a laugh, shaking her head with a big smile on her face, “And pffft no, I do not have a crush on anyone. Thank you very much”. Even to her own ears the lie was so evident in her voice, there was definitely no denying she did have a crush on the aforementioned man, but that was despite the point. 

“OH yeah, for sure. Definitely. You sound so sure about that Greys. Come on now, between friends, what's it like living with that god of a man? I’ve only seen some pictures but holy damn girl, if you don’t ride that dick that I’m going to get you sent to the block, because denying that man that would be a crime!” The pure childlike glee that passed through the Captains body at witnessing the utter shock of her words became clear to Ash and had her curling over in laughter. Never in her life has she seen someone look so offended yet also curious at the idea.

“Hey put it this way, if that man is cuffing me. I’ll happily go right to horny jail” Ash huffed out between laughs, god it was good to be around someone who thought like her and wasn’t afraid of talking shit at work, it was gold. It felt good to genuinely laugh with someone she knew and cherished, it had been far too long. 

“Anyway Greys, better get you all wrapped up and sent on your way back to your mans before he gets grumpy and you get told off. Although secretly I’m sure you’d just love that” She walked over to the desk and gathered up some papers that she needed Ash to give to her new Commanding Officer before writing out some prescriptions for more painkillers and nausea meds that she knew would come in handy in the future.  “I need you to give these papers to the Colonel for me” she pointed to the stack tucked into an envelope, “And these ones are for you little lady. Please do keep me posted about that handsome hunk you live with. And don’t let Henry annoy you too much when he gets to the house, I’m sure you’ll have your hands full though. Good luck Greys!”  and with one final tight hug she let the young officer go. Watching her plod down the hallway with a dopey smile on her face. Before she could forget she flicked her partner a text:

To: Future Hubbster

~ baby it seems you’ll have the perfect opportunity to have some fun in your new posting. Our little Ashy-bear has a crush on the Colonel, you HAVE to get them together somehow, we need our girl to be happy.

It was barely a minute later that her phone chimed, reading the message she had to shake her head with a laugh.

From: Future Hubbster

~ God I love you. Permission to make a certain Colonel jealous by any means necessary?

She quickly typed out a reply before hitting send and making her way back to the nurses desk to grab the papers for her next patient. She was sure that whatever her partner would do that it would for sure stir up some shit in the team, one of the many reasons she loved that troublemaker.

To: Future Hubbster

~permission granted, boy scout. Just don’t weird out our little Ashy or get kicked off the team. See you tonight baby xx

                                                  ----------

From that day onwards the energy in the house was no longer awkward. Carrillo and Ash had fallen back into a rhythm of eating meals together and just genuinely enjoying each other's company in the moments when they could relax.  Every Night at around twenty hundred hours they’d both find their way into the living room, generally Ash with a book and Carrillo with some kind of file that could potentially be helpful for their missions, reading quietly in comfortable silence had brought a sense of peace to the both of them. With the events from earlier in the week pushed to the side, but definitely not forgotten by either of them, they were back to being a well gelled team, a small team nonetheless but it worked well for them. 

Ash had not so subtly started doting on the man. She’d bring him coffee’s to the office during the day because he barely left the room when he got stuck in a rut reading paper after paper, her heart always warmed that extra little bit when he’d happily accept the cup and give her a small grateful smile, she always left the room with a blush on her cheeks and an added skip in her step. Sunday rolled round and Carrillo had seemingly disappeared from the house, and with him nowhere to be found Ash took it upon herself to finally go for a run. 

The property definitely seemed larger now she was running around the outside of it, she was becoming exhausted much faster than she would have liked and her side was rather sore from the effort. It was on her third lap of the property, the lap she had named ‘struggle street’ that she heard the sound of an approaching vehicle. Gapping it towards the house in an attempt to act like she hadn’t just been breaking the rules she made it just in time, rushing round her room and heading to the shower as fast as possible. The both of them had obviously learnt one thing from their moment in the living room nearly a week ago, always take your clothes into the bathroom and come out fully dressed, definitely a less awkward situation. Upon leaving the bathroom, fully clothed, she noticed a fresh set of groceries on the bench, it now made sense as to where the Colonel had disappeared to. 

Ash started out putting everything away neatly and into the designated spots, putting her favourite foods into easy to reach spots because while she was average height, some of the cupboards were just that little bit too tall for her to reach up into.  Once everything was put away she beelined for the couch and flicked on a random movie on tv, not intending to do much more than nap due to being beyond tired from her run, the dull ache of her muscles was a welcome feeling. Ash skipped dinner that night, still feeling far too tired from her exercise and instead chose to retire to bed early, but not before delivering a fresh cup of coffee to a very busy Carrillo.

Ash was starving when she woke up the next morning, stomach was growling and her body ached more than it had in a very long while, the good kind of overworked ache. Climbing rather ungracefully from her bed and into the kitchen, forgetting to put shorts on under the t-shirt she wore while in a tired state. Growing bored while waiting for the pot of coffee to finish she dug into the cupboard to grab a bowl and spoon in preparation for breakfast, wandering over to the fridge to get the milk before returning to her previous place, just in time for the coffee to be ready. Pouring the cup and taking a quick sip she felt herself begin to wake up, she definitely functioned better after the first cup of coffee in the morning, placing the cup down she reached up to the cupboard she usually kept her cereal in to make herself a bowl, only to find it wasn’t where she had put it yesterday upon unpacking the groceries. Huffing to herself in frustration she began checking the other cupboards, each one she opened came up empty, the frustration growing more and more when all the ones in her line of sight and reach didn’t contain her beloved Creamy Oats. It was then that it occurred to her there was one cupboard left to check, the highest up one that Carrillo usually kept any of his favourite stuff in, reaching up on tippy toes and flicking one of the doors open and she struck gold. From her placement she could see the logo of her cereal staring back at her, now she just had to reach it. Somehow. 

Caught up in trying to reach her cereal she failed to notice the Colonel leaning against his bedroom door watching silently from afar. He’d woken to the sound of the kitchen being ransacked only to laugh at what he was seeing. His plan it seemed, had worked, from his vantage point he was granted with quite the sight, long muscled legs, and a well toned ass were revealed as Ash tried to stretch as much as she could onto her tiptoes to reach the box of cereal he had deliberately placed at the back of ‘his’ cupboard. Smirking away to himself he slowly padded over to the kitchen, taking special care to dare not make a sound to alert her of his presence. 

Ash jumped when she felt a hand land softly on her side, her body tensed before relaxing all too quickly when she felt the penetrating heat of the man behind her. He reached up over her head, muscles bunching and pressed tightly against her effectively caging her in, grasped the box of cereal she was desperately trying to reach and reached down and placed it in front of her. She expected him to move away instantly but instead he stood there trapping her between the hard wood of the bench and the increasingly harder wood poking her in the lower back. One arm was still gripping her side, the other wrapped around her front with his hand played out on the bench, desperately close to where she needed it most. 

Testing the resolve of the officer behind her might not have been her brightest idea but she craved any kind of interaction or touch she could gain from this man. Ash pushed back on him, letting out a small pliant sound of need when she felt him twitch against the curve of her ass, the resulting groan she received from him had her buckling at the knees. His head moved down, mouth hovering against the shell of her ear, she could feel the harsh uneven breaths and when she ground down on him again, harder this time, she was rewarded with yet another deep  moan, one that sent a delighted shiver down her spine. She made a move to repeat the action but the hand on her side clamped down impossibly tight, efficiently halting her movements, the last thing she expected was for him to speak.

“Do that again, and you’ll find out how little control I really have” His voice was a mere whisper but it had the desired effect. 

Ash froze, processing the words. The sleepy lust filled drawl sent a punch of arousal straight to her core and a moan escaping her throat. She was almost tempted to see how far she could push him, but settled for subtly maneuvering herself to grab for her coffee and bring it closer, her throat was impossibly dry now and he was not helping the situation. 

The subtle movement brushed so lightly against him that in any other state it may have been  imperceptible but in this highly aroused state it made him want to return the favour. He leaned down slowly, gauging her reaction, before gently and fleetingly brushing his lips behind her ear, smirking softly against her skin when she tilted her head slightly to accommodate him, mouth agape. Never one to turn down an advantage he slowly moved his right hand towards her coffee cup, distracting her further by trailing his lips along the edge of her jaw towards her own lips. He continued his journey towards her lips, stopping only when his hand found purchase on the hot cup of coffee before her, before he retraced his previous path, this time stopping every few centimeters to mouth at underside of her jaw, when he reached his intended target he sealed the deal. He nibbled at the soft skin beneath her ear, sucking lightly to leave the barest of marks but one the both of them would know was there, he blew softly on the skin, lips once again pulling into a smirk when she threw her head back against his bare shoulder. He leant his head against the side of her own, gently nuzzling against her before he growled out lowly, “Thanks for the Coffee Ash” and then as if he wasn’t affected by the current situation, he stepped back, groaning at the loss of pressure against his painfully hard cock. 

To say Ash was an undignified mess wouldn’t be far from the truth, but even in her current state of dizzying arousal she wouldn’t let him have the last word. She spun on her heel, briefly stunned while watching the muscles on his back bunch and twist as he made his way back to his room, before she remembered her mission. “Sir..” she tempted in a voice dripping with sin, smirking proudly when she saw his shoulders tense and his head shoot up in a hurry, obviously not expecting her to speak back, “When you start something next time, I expect you to finish it” and with those as her final words she turned around, leaning heavily against the bench for support, barely resisting the urge to get herself off where she stood, Colonel be damned. 

Carrillo only just had his door closed and the coffee cup discard before he was desperately pulling himself from his shorts. In less than a dozen strokes and with a barely concealed yell he had spilled into his own hand, moving across the floor he reached down to pick up a discarded t-shirt to clean up his mess. Sitting down on his bed to catch his breath he had to laugh at the situation, he had underestimated the young woman, severely so, and now he’d crossed a line he never had before. He was in deep, far too deep to continue to deny his true feelings for the junior officer. He flopped back onto his bed, staring at the ceiling before growling out a string of curse words in his native tongue. That girl really knew how to get under his skin.

[hermionemonica]

The Road to Us, and Everything in Between: Chapter 3

(This is a no magic AU. There is no existence of the Miraculous or the superheroes in this universe.)

AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 4

When Marinette woke up later in the day, needless to say, she was very confused to notice that she was in her room, in her bed. However, she didn't have to wonder long, for right then her mother came in through the trapdoor with a plate of macaroons.    

“Oh sweetie, you're awake!” she exclaimed with glee.    

“Mom, how did I get home?” Marinette asked. “I was supposed to be at the university right now.”    

“You felt ill, so the nurse gave you something to put you to sleep. You have been excused from classes today.”    

Marinette smiled in acknowledgement, but just then, her eyes fell on her phone lying on the table, just how she had kept it before she went to the university that morning.    

“Um, Mom, can I be alone for some time?” Marinette asked. “I don't feel very good yet.”    

“Of course, dear,” Sabine said. “I’ll leave the macaroons here on your chaise. Your father made them especially for you, just the way you like.”    

After she had left the room, Marinette scrambled down from her bed. Her head felt heavy, and she wondered what exactly the nurse had given her.  Well, there were more pressing matters at hand right now.  She sat down at her desk and switched her phone on. Nothing more from Nathaniel. Marinette opened up her contacts list. Her finger hovered over Nate's name for a long moment, before she scrolled up and clicked on Alya’s name. She needed to talk to someone who knew. Well, to be fair, her best friend didn't know the whole of it, but Alya knew more than anyone else. The familiar chime only rang once when Alya picked it up.  

“Hey Mari!” she said in a cheery voice.    

Okay, so Alya was free. That was a relief.    

“Hi, Alya.”    

Alya straightaway guessed from her voice that something was wrong.    

“What happened, Marinette?” Alya went on in a softer voice.    

“Uh, me and Nathaniel, we...” Marinette trailed off, because she was not sure how to put it. She didn't want to use the term ‘broke up’, because that would imply at something that never was, and it didn't quite feel right. So she settled on phrasing it in a roundabout way. “It's over with us.”    

“You broke up?”  

There it was. That dreaded phrase.    

Surprisingly though, Alya didn't sound as shocked as Marinette had expected.    

“When?” Alya questioned.    

“Um, last night, I think. I said some things which I probably wouldn't have said if I wasn't under stress, and he got the wrong side of it. So basically he thinks I don't want to have anything to do with him anymore.”    

Alya's reply was something Marinette could never have thought of hearing at such a time.    

“It was about time,” Alya stated in a cool, matter-of-fact voice.    

“What the hell are you talking about Alya?” Marinette demanded.    

“Oh, we all knew this was going to happen someday. Your relationship was starting to turn into something pretty unhealthy for a while, especially for you. But you were too blindly in love with him to realise.”    

Okay, what?    

“Alya, I don't think this is something you should say now,” Marinette said, under her breath.  

“You know me, Marinette. I would rather speak the bitter truth than sugar-coat it with lies. I have been noticing it for some time now, and the only reason that I hadn't told you earlier is that I didn't want to hurt you. But now that you've managed to get yourself out of it, I thought I should tell you, just so you don't do anything stupid and try to go back. I'm sorry, there just wasn't an easy way to say this.”    

Marinette felt her breath catch.  What was Alya talking about?    

“Alya, I'll call you back later. I am not feeling up to this conversation right now.”  

"Girl, you’re gonna be okay. That guy didn’t deserve you anyway. This is not your fault."  

This isn’t completely his fault either,  thought Marinette. Even if what Alya said was true, then Marinette had brought it onto herself. Still, this was a lot to take in, Marinette needed time to think about it.  

"I think I need to be alone for a while. I'll talk to you later. Thanks for being there Alya."  

"You know I’m always there for you Marinette. Just let me know if you need anything. And please take care."  

"I will. Bye."  

Unhealthy?  How was that even possible? But Alya seemed very convinced, and  in the years she had known her,  never had Marinette known Alya to be mistaken when she sounded so sure about something. Then again, what did Alya know? She did not know Nathaniel like Marinette did, she had no idea what their relationship was like! Maybe, it was just a misconception that Alya had formed from not knowing all the facts. Because Nathaniel loved... no, loves her. But, a small part of her mind whispered, maybe the reason she felt so lost without Nate’s presence was because she had forgotten how to exist without him. Was that dependence, or was it...? Marinette felt her head growing heavier. Like she had earlier today, before she had passed out. She needed a distraction, anything to divert her mind from this mess, anything.  

Her wish was granted, for just then, her phone vibrated in her lap. She shuddered for a moment, silently wishing it wasn't Nathaniel or Alya, and she heaved a sigh of relief when she saw it wasn't.  

It was a text from...  Adrien ? He had never texted her before; even though they had exchanged numbers weeks ago, they had never really used them. Well, she thought, anything would be welcome right now, and she opened the message.  

Adrien: Hey, how are you feeling?  

Exactly how bad had it got at the university today? Adrien seemed really concerned.  

Marinette:  I guess I'm doing better. I still feel kind of drowsy, but I guess it is just the effects of whatever the nurse gave me.    

Marinette:  If you don't mind me asking, could you just tell me how bad did it get with me? I mean, I really can't remember anything, it's all a blur.  

Adrien:  Wouldn't you rather have your parents talk to you about that?  

Marinette: You are scaring me, was it that bad? Am I dying? 😅  

Marinette:  Hey, can I call you? This texting thing is hurting my head. I can't seem to focus on the screen for too long.  

Adrien did not reply right away.  Was that too forward of her?  Marinette wondered. But she didn't have much time to ponder, because her phone rang as Adrien's name flashed on the screen. He had called her.  

“H-hey,” said Marinette.  

“Your voice sounds weird. Is it this way over the phone, or are you feeling really sick?” queried Adrien.  

“I don't know. I think it because I'm not fully awake yet,” Marinette laughed.  

“Should I call back later? I mean, do you need to get some rest?”  

“No, I'm fine. Actually, I could use some conversation right now. So, tell me, how much of a mess did I make?”  

“Uh... the nurse said you had an anxiety attack.”  

Anxiety attack? This was new.  

“Marinette?”  

“Yeah?”  

“Was this the first time you had one of these attacks?”  

“I think so. I mean, I am prone to anxiety, anyone who knows me can tell you that. But an attack... what did it look like?”  

“Um, it was like... y-you were shaking badly, and it looked like you were having trouble breathing and... sorry, I freaked out at that time, and I don't remember much of it.”  

“Oh. I don't think I've experienced anything like this before.”  

“So it is that bad huh?”  

“What?”  

“Your boy trouble. You must have it pretty bad if it takes such a toll on you.”  

Marinette fell silent.  What could she reply to that?  

“Hey, if you want to, then you can talk about it,” Adrien urged.  

“I don't know, Adrien. We've known each other and been with each other for almost five years, and after all this time, he misunderstood me over such a trivial thing. It hurts to think that he didn't even trust me. And on top of it, it doesn't help that my best friend just told me that she had known that our relationship was starting to go bad anyway, and I had no clue.”  

“Ugh, that must be rough.”  

“It is. I-I just don't know what to think anymore.”  

“Have you talked to him?”  

“I haven't. Besides, what is there to talk about? He ended it clear and loud, didn't he? And after what Alya said, I don't think I'm up for negotiating right now.”  

“You are right, of course. But you know what? That guy stated how he felt in a message, and ended it on his own terms. But don't you think you deserve your own closure? Don't you think you should make your side known to him? Whatever your relationship was with this person, you had as much right over it as did it. So you need to let him know where you stand, if you want to end it on a clear note.”  

Adrien had a point. A very good point, in fact.  

“Thanks, Adrien. I guess I needed someone to tell me that.”  

“It’s alright. What are friends for?”  

“Well, talk to you later?”  

“Yeah, later.”  

Marinette is such an awesome person,  Adrien thought. Even when she was obviously hurting so much, and wasn't in a proper state of mind, she still managed to be kind and sweet.  Why would anyone ever want to hurt her?  

On the other side of the call, Marinette thought about what Adrien had said. If Nathaniel's actions were upsetting enough for her to have an anxiety attack, then maybe she needed to get everything off her chest. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself, and picked up the phone again. This time, she was determined when she scrolled through to Nathaniel’s name on her contacts. She waited with anticipation, as the chime ringed over and over, till it reached voicemail. She took a deep breath. Maybe her determination would fade away if she waited too long; it was now or never. So she recorded a voice message for Nathaniel.  

“I get that I was a bit too rude last night. And you’re right in a way, this isn’t just about yesterday. But it’s not how you made it out to be. Surely, you have noticed me growing distant over the past few weeks. It was because life is weighing down on me, and I need space to breathe, to feel. If that feels so difficult for you, then I guess this is it. Yes, it pains me so much to see the thing, which I was trying so hard to hold together, crumble down in front of me. All because you insist on being selfish, because you refuse to even try to understand. Well, for so long, all I have thought about is you; now, I choose myself. Goodbye it is.”  

After sending the message, she hesitated for a moment. But then she thought, there wasn’t anything left, was there? So she blocked Nathaniel's number. And she blocked him on every media they were connected on. She did not want to hear from him anymore.  

Adrien was right. She needed this. And she felt better after this.  

When Marinette woke up the next morning, her phone was flooded with messages and notifications. It took her a moment to realise that it was the aftermath of the “End of Relationship" status on Facebook that had automatically propped up after she had blocked Nathaniel. She found it funny, that all these people didn’t even know that it wasn't technically a “break-up". But she was not going to tell them, that was Nathaniel's decision to make. No matter what he had done to her, she had no right to out him like that without warning. So the only option left was to go with the flow. So she pretended that she had actually broken off from a “relationship". The drama went on for more than a month, and maybe through all that time, some part of herself began to believe in the lies that she wove. That she had had a real relationship with Nathaniel, and none of the coming out stuff had happened.    

.

But one can only be in denial for so long.    

When one day, Alya said wistfully, “I really want to know what true love feels like,” Marinette responded with “Me too.”    

Alya straightened up. “Girl, I mean no offence, but at least you once had your love, Mari. Not like the rest of us.”    

That hit a raw chord. Marinette tried to keep her temper in check.    

“Al, there are things you don't understand,” she had said in a coarse whisper.    

She immediately wished she hadn't made such a statement, because her best friend was not one to let it be.    

“What do you mean?” Alya questioned.    

For a moment, Marinette wondered if it would really be that bad to tell Alya. She had changed a lot since her days of youth. Alya was now a sensible woman, and she knew what things should be kept secret. Maybe she’ll not  tell  anyone  about  this . And Marinette knew for a fact, from how Alya had reacted to Rose and Juleka's relationship, that she was very supportive of anything non-heterosexual. But the voice in her head told her that she'd be breaking Nathaniel's trust that way.    

So she replied ,  “Nothing.”    

But Alya was not one to give up so easily. “Oh, c'mon girl! You can't back out like this!”    

The familiar feeling of conflict was taking over Marinette's heart.    

Her voice shook, as she whispered, “Please Alya, let it be. This is not my secret to share.”    

When the tears clouding her vision threatened to roll down, she hung her head to hide her face.    

After a few moments of silence, she felt her best friend's warm touch on her shoulder. “Marinette, this is no longer about you proving a point, or my curiosity getting the best of me. This is about you. Whatever it is, it's clearly upsetting you. Talk to me, Mari, let me help you. Trust me.”    

Those words broke the last of Marinette's abstinence. “Alya, Nathaniel was never my boyfriend. He has never been in love with me. In fact,” she hesitated, “he is gay.”    

Marinette looked at her best friend and realised that she was about to go all Alya on her, yelling and asking questions. So she abruptly said, “No. Please don't say anything.”    

Alya pouted, but she understood. She noticed Marinette's hands were shaking badly. Over time, she had grown used to symptoms of Marinette's oncoming anxiety attacks. She wrapped both her arms around the girl, and pulled her close. Marinette relaxed considerably at the gesture, and shifted to lay down with her head in Alya’s lap. As Alya patted her head and rubbed soothing circles on her back, she heard Marinette let out a deep sigh.  

It had been so long since Marinette had Alya to comfort her like that. She had almost forgotten how much Alya's presence calmed her. She had missed it. All this while, she had been holding everything inside her, hiding so many truths from everyone. But now, at this moment, she felt so light. She didn't have to lie to her best friend anymore, there was finally someone she could talk to.  

After a while, she heard Alya whisper, “You know right, that we need to talk about this some time?”    

Marinette just clung on tighter to Alya in response.    

Alya smiled and said, “I'll call you when we get home.”    

Marinette couldn't have been more glad. Alya understood that talking about it face-to-face might be hard on Marinette, and that was probably why she suggested a phone call.    

You really are the best Alya,  thought Marinette.  

.

“Do you know what he was making you give up on Marinette?” said Alya into the phone, a couple of hours later.  

Of all the things in the world, this wasn't how Marinette had expected Alya to begin the conversation.  

“Alya, it wasn't him. He didn't force me into any of this. It was my own call.”  

“Really? Wow.”  

“Yes, really. After he told me about his sexuality, he gave me a choice to stay or leave.”  

“I see.”  

Something about the tone of Alya's voice or her manner of speaking felt very unsettling to Marinette.  

“You don't sound entirely convinced.”  

She heard Alya sigh on the other side. “Run by me what else he had said when you guys had, you know, ‘the talk’.”  

Although it had been more than two years, Marinette clearly remembered everything of that conversation. And she remembered how passionately he had talked about Marc.  

“Uh, he mostly talked about, um... the person he's actually in love with.”  

“Marc, right?”  

Marinette stopped in her tracks.  

“ Wha -how did you know?”  

“It wasn't difficult to figure that out once I knew the main facts. I mean, I'd be lying if I said I never had my suspicions.”  

“Woah. I don't know what to say or think right now.”  

“You don't have to. Okay, back to our discussion. Tell me whatever he had said about you and your relationship.”  

Marinette recounted the entire conversation to Alya. Her best friend already knew, or suspected, most of it. There wasn’t really any point hiding anything from her right now. And if Alya was serious, this could even help her figure some things out. So she gave in. No matter how much it pained her to go over that conversation, she did it.  

When she was done, there was a long pause at the other end of the call. For a moment, Marinette thought that maybe she had convinced her best friend out of her ridiculous claims. But Alya’s next words made her realise how wrong she was to think that.  

“Girl, that is so messed up!”  

No.    

What dirt could Alya possibly gather from that conversation? It was pure and true, almost sacred. It was the first time that Nathaniel had been completely honest with her, so why was Alya saying all those things?  

Marinette saw that her legs were beginning to shake uncontrollably. Shit. As she began to feel the signs of the now-familiar pounding in her head, she understood that an anxiety attack was on its way. She forced herself to take a few deep breaths, and count up to 10. Fortunately, Alya didn't interrupt her while she was having her mini-breakdown. But she had to will some control into herself; the conversation wasn't over yet and there were a lot of questions whose answers she needed.  

“Alya, I'm literally on the verge of an anxiety attack right now. Please tell me what's going on in your mind.”  

“Okay, so Nathaniel clearly knew that he was your weakness. Your love for him was your Achilles’ heel. So the fact that he warped his entire fucking speech in such a way would certainly tug at the most sensitive chords of your heart. He made you think that you made your own decision, while in reality, he didn’t give you much of a choice.”  

Marinette did not want to believe what Alya was saying. Nathaniel would not be that cruel, would he? Would he really use his pain and Marinette's sympathy such?  

“Alya, I think you're being way too harsh.”  

“Yeah, maybe I am a bit biased. I never was a fan of that guy and how he treated you.”  

Just as Marinette was about to sigh in relief though, Alya spoke up again.  

“But that does not make what I am saying false. He may not have done it intentionally, but that is what happened. I am a journalist Marinette, I know the significance of truth and facts.”  

“But Alya, why?”  

At this point, Marinette was just trying to blindly snatch at straws like a drowning person. Any reasoning, however absurd, would be enough for her as long as it put some positive light on the person she had loved.  

“Nathaniel loved me, Alya. I know he did. He cared for me.”  

“Look here Marinette,” Alya went on in a softer tone. “I have no say in that. Maybe he loved you, maybe he didn't; you're the one who’d know that. But you need to understand this, love isn't always a pure and sacred emotion for everyone. And I don't know how to put this in better words girl, but you are a great catch. Anyone would be lucky to have you. And you chose Nathaniel. You adored him. It was bound to get to his head sometime, and I guess that's what happened. He became selfish. Think about it, a boy who is ostracized by the entire class, and you decide to give him attention. You gave him respect, something probably no one had ever given him in a long time. You made him feel good about himself. Of course, he wanted to keep feeling that way, and that's why he wanted to keep you to himself. And once he realised that, I guess that's when his love turned dark.”  

Marinette couldn't reply, her voice was choked. She did not know what to think anymore.  

“I am sorry, Marinette,” came Alya's voice.  

After a few more minutes of silence, in which Alya patiently waited for Marinette to get herself together, Marinette finally spoke up.  

“Does that mean every person I get close with will end up manipulating me?”  

“No Marinette! Please don't think like that! Just because it did not work out with one person, doesn't mean it won’t with anyone else.”  

“How do I know? I gave my everything to Nathaniel, and yet it went all wrong!”  

Alya paused for a moment. “Maybe that's where you were wrong. Don't give your all to someone unless they are ready to do the same for you.”

[ficsandcatsandficsandcats]

How bput one where the reader grew up with Yennefer and always tried to be nice and spend time with her whenever she could, and she started developing a crush. One day Yen disappears and reader is really disappointed at the loss of a close friend (and crush) until one day she gets in contact with Yen again and is like HAWT DAAAMNNNN!!! As if I didn't have a crush on you before!!! And Yen is like ????? Wtf you had a crush on me???? Before????

Fandom: The Witcher Pairing: Yennefer x Reader Word Count: 1,618 Rating: G Taglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak​ @whatevermonkey​ @mycat-is-mylove @mynamesoundslikesherlock​ @kemmastan​ @magic-multicolored-miracle​ @writingstudent​ @mlleecrivaine​ @coffee-and-stories​ @amirahiddleston​ @ultracolorfulnerdcollection​ @astouract​ @your-not-invisible-to-me a/n: I’m so soft for Yennefer 

There were days you still thought of her. Whenever you saw a thatch of violets by the road that nearly matched the hue of her eyes or when you saw a body of water in the moonlight, dark like her hair had been. You weren’t blind to her misshapen jaw or the hump on her back but you didn’t understand how these things pushed people away from her. She was tender and kind and whip smart and though you were merely children when she’d been in your life you knew looking back that she had been the first crush you’d ever had. Not the last, but the one that still stood out for you. Part of that was probably just due to a lack of closure. You’d never gotten the chance to see if she felt the same or to fall out of each other’s lives in the slow, gradual way most people did. One day she was there and the next she was gone and no one could tell you what had happened to her. Her father told you never to return but you did, every day for a month, just to see if you could catch a glimpse of her. In time you accepted that she was gone and you’d spent years wondering if you may run into her again, hoping that she was still alive.

And then one day, just as suddenly as she had disappeared from your life, she walked back in.

There were days Yennefer still thought of you. Whenever she heard an especially infectious laugh or smelled peppermint her mind would go to you. You were one of the many things that had been stolen from her, one of the many sacrifices offered against her will in the pursuit of control over her own life. She’d thought many times about trying to reach out to you again once she’d been free. She’d gone so far as to look into your family, finding that they were still where she’d last seen them but that you were gone. She was happy for you but it was a little bittersweet. You’d always talked about going away together and though she was sure you meant as a friend she’d realized later on that in her mind the dream she held onto was far from platonic. She hoped you knew that she hadn’t wanted to go and then she stopped hoping, knowing it was useless to waste time worrying over someone she’d never see again and if she did see you, she’d changed so much you likely wouldn’t know her. And she likely wouldn’t be brave enough to make herself known.

And then one day, just as suddenly as you’d been taken from her, you were thrown back in her path.

Your face was turned as you approached the door to the bookstore, tossing a final farewell to the seller over your shoulder as you opened the door and when you turned your head back she was there. It wasn’t the eyes or even the hair that gave her away, it was the smile.

“Yennefer!” you cried, dropping your books as your hands instinctively moved to your mouth in surprise. You bent to pick them up and she crouched down as well, the curtain of glowing black hair brushing against your nose and you got the wafting scent of lilac and gooseberries. Your hands clasped over each other’s as you reached for the same book and you looked up, laughing. She’d been wrong all those times she thought a voice reminder her of you. No one else could produce that sound, that infectious, rollicking, sweet sound that made her heart ache. She’d missed it so much more than she’d realized and the scent you bore wasn’t peppermint alone it was also something uniquely yours.

You both rose and she handed you the books she’d gathered. You stared at each other in silence for a moment, neither sure where to start to bridge the years you’d been apart, not even sure if you could.

“Look at you,” you said, gesturing to her. She blushed a bit and stood up a bit straighter, not realizing she’d slunk down a little bit to fit into the girl she’d been when you knew her last. You gazed at her in admiration and a little bit of awe. “Gods as if you weren’t already irresistible enough you had to go and do this.”

“Wait what?” Yennefer asked, violet eyes widening. Now it was you who blushed and you thought briefly about walking it back and then decided no. You’d spent years wondering and wishing and practicing what you’d say and it would never sound the way you wanted it to but it could at least be true. But they also wouldn’t be in the doorway of a bookshop with an increasingly irritated shopkeep breathing down your neck trying to get you to move out of the way for other patrons.

“Do you have something you need to get? Or do you have some time?” you asked.

“Of course I have time,” Yennefer replied. She would have stopped the world to get this time with you again. The Brotherhood and their errands could wait.

You walked arm in arm as you had as children, falling into step with ease, and found an empty table at the nearby tavern. She ordered wine and you ordered mead and you fell back into sort of stunned silence as you looked at each other, tracing the ways the years had changed you both and what had stayed the same.

“Tell me about who you are now. Actually, start with where you went,” you pleaded. Yennefer’s smile faded a little and you knew the story would be hard to hear. You listened as she gave you a brief version that you knew likely withheld countless injustices, horror-struck by the ones she shared. You wanted nothing more than to go back in time and murder her father and she could see the vehement anger in your eyes. It only made her heart thrum for you more. She asked you in turn about your life and you shared how you’d traveled a bit, trying to hold to the promises you’d made with each other, and how you never went too far because frankly travelling was dangerous and expensive unless you were a bard.

“What did you mean back there?” Yennefer asked in another lull in the conversation, unable to stop her mind replaying your voice saying as if you weren’t already irresistible enough.

“Oh, well, you probably knew it but I was so incredibly in love with you,” you said with a little laugh, “I think you were the first person… no I know you were the first person I ever had any feelings for and I have spent so many years wondering what happened to that girl. And here you are! The answer to my questions. You have become an absolutely amazing woman.”

Yennefer was rarely caught unawares anymore but it seemed like every time you spoke she was struck into dumbfounded silence. She had no response for what you’d just said or the casual way you’d said it as if it was common knowledge, as if everyone should expect that girl she’d been was desirable and loved. All she’d wanted for so long was to be important to someone and here you were, out of nowhere, telling her that all along she’d been important to you.

“But I was…” her voice trailed off, overwhelmed by all of the things she’d been told she was back then.  Before she changed her body and face and hardened her heart.

“Wonderful,” you finished for her, your hand resting over hers as it lay on the table. Her eyes followed the gesture and then rose back to your eyes which were filled with an emotion that scared her. She wanted to pull away and spurn you and tell you goodbye and take pains to never let your paths cross again. But she also wanted to pull you close and keep you by her side and never let anything or anyone tear you apart again. You just wanted her to say something, anything, to tell you that you weren’t a fool or remembering things wrong. To hear that she’d cared for you as well, even if it had been differently.

“I don’t think back about those days much,” she began. Your heart sank and you moved to pull your hand away but she quickly clasped it, pulling it back, “But I do think of you. You were the only good thing about my life and I think, though I haven’t seen you in a lifetime, that still may be true.”

“You know a good way of knowing for sure?” you asked, a playful twinkle in your eye. She shook her head no, though she hoped she knew where you were going with this.

“You could have me in your life for a while again, now, and see if it is in fact better,” you finished, a hopeful expression on your face.

She should have told you no. She should have told you to go far away, that it was too dangerous to stay by her side and that she had plans that couldn’t be waylaid because someone who knew the girl before came around and stirred up old emotions. She should have done so many things but what she did was lean over the table and pull you close, bridging the distance till your mouths brushed together and there was no longer before you and after you; there was only you and her and the bright, shining unknown of what may still be.

[have-each-others-six]

time will tell, she’ll see us through (pt. three)

***

part one

part two

***

The wave of sound- of coffee being ground and orders being shouted and people laughing at stories they’ve already heard- all merges into one buzzing background, hitting Cathy square in the face and setting off something that feels like a bomb of fiery fear in her chest.

She goes over to the table in the corner she used yesterday, which is currently taken by a college student with a glazed expression in her eyes as she types very slowly on her laptop. 

“Excuse me?” Cathy says, very gently, and the girl startles, tearing herself away from her computer screen to look up at her.

“Hi,” she replies, a little wary, scooting almost imperceptibly towards the wall. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Have you seen a manuscript anywhere around here? Like, a big stack of paper? There should be a ribbon tied around it, too- a blue ribbon. A stack of paper with a blue ribbon tied around it is what I’m looking for,” Cathy explains, fumbling her words.

“Nope, haven’t seen anything,” the girl says apologetically, shrugging, blinking away the bleariness in her eyes. “I only got here a few hours ago, though, so somebody could’ve taken it before I even sat down.”

Cathy inhales sharply at the thought of someone handling her precious manuscript, but manages to smile at the girl. “Thank you,” she tells her genuinely, and walks up to the register on sort of wobbly legs, the idea that her manuscript might have been stolen occurring to her fully for the first time and making her think of all the awful possibilities that come with that.

“Hey!” the barista says happily. “Chai tea latte, right?”

“Um, not today, thank you,” Cathy says politely, a little flattered that they remembered her order. “I actually have a question- have you seen a big stack of paper with a blue ribbon around it? I might have left it here yesterday.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell, but you can check the lost & found in the back,” the barista offers. “What we find at the end of our shifts usually stays there for a week or so.”

“Okay, thank you,” Cathy says, nodding quickly and swallowing hard, turning around and heading to the indicated shelf in the back. Even from far away, she can tell that her manuscript isn’t there, but she goes up close anyway, looking through the tangled chargers and dog-eared books for a stack of paper that means more to her than anything.

“How’s it going?” Aragon asks softly behind her, and when Cathy doesn’t respond she shifts a little on her feet. “Have you seen the amount of girls working on laptops in here? Remember when we had to use quills for that?” she jokes weakly, but when she sees the desperate look on Cathy’s face she stops talking, going over and helping to sort through the mess.

“It’s not here,” Cathy says, swallowing hard, stepping back and crossing her arms tightly over her chest. “I knew it, I knew it, I knew it wouldn’t be here…”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Aragon interrupts, cutting off Cathy’s spiral. “Hold on, love. Breathe for me, can you do that?”

Cathy inhales and exhales, shakily, and nods just once. 

“There you go, good. That’s good,” Aragon praises. “Now, you’re right- the manuscript isn’t here. But we haven’t checked the theater yet, so we can go there next. Does that sound like a plan?”

“What if it’s not there, either?” Cathy asks in a quiet voice, looking again at the shelf like maybe the papers will have appeared in the moment she glanced away.

“Then we will figure it out,” Aragon tells her decisively, resting a gentle hand on her shoulder. “We’ll look through the whole house if we have to, and if… if we still can’t find it, then we still have our memories. We can start again.”

“It won’t be the same, though,” Cathy says, her fear evident. “You’ll forget things- I’ll forget things. The version of my manuscript has everything as I remembered it, most of it written down before we found each other and then all the things I pieced together from the stories that all of you told me. You’ll tell it all differently, I’ll remember my life differently, everything will be different and it won’t be true.”

“Oh, Cathy…” Aragon says, her voice softening with understanding. “It won’t-”

“It will,” Cathy says desperately, and when Aragon reaches out a hand to try and soothe her, Cathy moves away, swiping at her eyes. “Come on, let’s go check the theater,” she says, her voice catching with tears.

She doesn’t wait for Aragon’s response, walking quickly out of the coffee shop, and once she gets in the car, she reaches in her pocket for what feels like the twentieth time to check that she still has the last page of her manuscript.

She does, but instead of making her feel relieved it just makes her more anxious- what if this last page is all there is now? What if her manuscript is forever incomplete, only the end of the story immortalized, but how it all started lost to time?

Aragon joins her in the car after a few minutes, handing her a cup of something and sipping from her own, not saying a word as she starts up the engine. Cathy takes a deep breath over the steam rising out of the little hole in the lid, and takes a small sip as Aragon pulls onto the street.

It’s a chai tea latte.

Her favorite.

The gentle gesture, carried out without a word spoken, makes Cathy want to cry, but she doesn’t, instead trying to swallow the burning behind her eyes and muster the strength to speak. “I’m sorry,” she apologizes quietly after a while, looking down at her coffee. “For… for storming out on you like that.”

Aragon still doesn’t say anything, but Cathy’s known her for long enough to know that that doesn’t necessarily mean she’s mad. Her godmother thinks things through; she isn’t often hasty or impulsive, and it’s one of the things Cathy loves most about her. Her reliability, her steadiness- they’re compatible with Cathy’s own quiet determination, and also provide a balance on the occasions when Cathy feels like a too-tight spring, wound too closely and bound to skitter too far down any rabbit hole her panicked mind can cook up.

She’s not usually the one to break these silences between her and Aragon, but she has things she needs to say.

“I’m sorry,” she repeats to start, knowing she’s already said it but feeling like she needs to say it again. “I just… I have to tell your stories. That’s what the manuscript is, it’s all of your lives, written out just like you experienced them.” Her next breath sort of shakes out of her lungs. “If I lose it… I lose you,” she whispers. “I was the one who survived. I owe this to all of you.”

“You don’t owe us anything,” Aragon says after another five minutes, when Cathy’s just about given up at the possibility of any conversation between now and getting to the theater. “Well, I mean, you owe Jane a little bit of money for that scone she bought you last week, but I don’t think that’s as urgent as what you think you owe us.”

She smoothly takes a left turn, her hands relaxing a little bit from their tight grip on the wheel as she takes a breath before speaking again.

“You surviving Henry does not make you at fault for what happened to us or how we died,” Aragon says quietly after her pause, risking taking her eyes off of the road to look at Cathy.

Cathy swallows, her eyes darting down to her lap, and Aragon knows she’s just accurately surmised what Cathy was thinking.

“But I survived,” Parr says in a soft, fragile voice. “I died without his shadow hanging over me, I got a little bit of closure- none of you had that luxury.”

“None of us died without his shadow hanging over us,” Aragon reminds her, bitterness entering her voice that has nothing to do with Cathy and everything to do with Henry. “He took Thomas away from you, he found you through my Mary… he extended his power bit by bit into every aspect of your life until you married him- that’s what he did to all of us. Your survival doesn’t invalidate your experience with Henry, and it doesn’t mean you caused the pain in the rest of our marriages to him,” she explains calmly and articulately. “Only he can claim responsibility for that.”

Cathy tries to nod as she takes a sip of her coffee, which is still a little too hot and stings her tongue, and it almost seems like a warning not to ask the question she’s about to ask Aragon.

“Did you really love him?” she asks her anyway, looking up at her godmother and picking at the sleeve around the cup. She doesn’t want to talk about Henry’s influence on her own life anymore- she doesn’t like thinking about how much of her personality might be a result of her time with him, doesn’t want to become what history thinks of her- that all she is is wrapped up in him. She swallows and refocuses on her godmother. “I  know we talked about it a little bit when I was speaking to you for… for the manuscript, but… did you?”

Aragon sighs. “Yes,” she says quietly. “That’s the short answer. The long answer is a lot more complicated.”

“How do you mean?”

“Love is a very short word for everything that it entails,” Aragon explains. “Maybe at first it’s smiling softly or the whole world narrowing just to them. But love grows and changes and pulls and strains, and if you don’t grow with it- or maybe if you grow too fast for it- you’re left with something that isn’t love.”

“So you and Henry were like that?” Cathy asks, taking another sip of her drink and tilting her head a little bit so the sun, emerging from behind a cloud, isn’t in her eyes.

“Yes, Henry and I were like that. He stayed stagnant in his love for me, and I didn’t,” Aragon says. “But beyond that, beyond him refusing to continue to grow and change along with our relationship, there’s a whole new layer to all of it now. I think I loved Henry until the day I died, even with everything he did to me, and when I was reincarnated that ache was still there. But meeting all of you, and listening to all of your stories… he wasn’t who I thought he was, and how I feel about him now isn’t love.”

“What is it, then?” Cathy asks, curious about Aragon’s answer but also hoping that it might put a name to the feelings she associates with Henry and her own relationship with him.

“I’m trying to figure that out,” Aragon says ruefully. “Have been for a while now. ‘Complicated’ is the best word I have at the moment, but an exasperated groan is probably just as descriptive.”

Cathy tries to laugh. “The groan might be the closest you get,” she jokes sort of weakly. “I don’t know if there’s a word to describe what Henry and I had, either. I just know that it wasn’t love- or maybe it was at one point. I don’t know.”

Aragon sighs. “To our very strange lives,” she says after a while, raising her coffee cup while keeping one hand on the steering wheel.

“May they become a little simpler one day,” Cathy adds with a shaky smile, tapping the plastic lids together, and they both take a sip as Aragon pulls onto the street where the theater is and parks just outside the front.

***

taglist: @thenicestnonbinary, @soultastic

[skvaderarts]

Hiraeth Chapter 8: Accursed

Masterlist can be found Here!

Chapter Eight: Accursed

Note: Oh boy, this chapter was fun to write. It also comes in at my quickest chapter so far, and it’s five-hundred words longer! Two hours! Wow! I’m getting a little bit better at this! But I hope that wasn’t at the cost of grammar… I’ll have to double-check that one.

-~-

There was no need to look to the sky for the answers that they sought. It didn’t take very much intuition to tell that darkness would be upon them within the next two hours or so. The snowy conditions that they found themselves in didn’t help that in any. Cloudy weather always helped make things darker quicker than they normally would be, and that wasn’t something that they had planned ahead for. Still, neither of them was willing to take this little adventure of theirs to the road, light or no light. It simply wasn’t a very good idea.

“At least it’s snowing, right?” morgan asked casually as she wrapped her arms tiger around herself, trying her best to keep the cold wind out. The colder she became, the harder it was to walk, and they needed to get out of there as fast as possible. “What I mean is, the sky is always a little bit lighter when it snows. That might help us see a little better, right? Even if we’re in the woods?”

V considered her statement as he hurried forward, trying his best to ignore the wind that had gradually started to pick up as they carried on. His coat wasn’t thin by any means, but it was getting gradually colder the further the sun sank below the horizon. They were going to have to get out of the open air sooner rather than later if they didn’t want to develop hypothermia or frostbite. But either way, he was at least somewhat sure he understood what she was saying. Or he thought he was.

“You may be onto something there. It does tend to be a little bit lighter, and there isn’t really any meaningful foliage to speak of, especially on the trees.” V glanced up towards the sky, noting that the sun had started to fade, even behind the clouds. A slight glimmer of panic suddenly shot through him. Suddenly the idea of being in a cold, dark forest unnerved him. Perhaps he was just late to react and he’d felt this way all along, but he wasn’t sure that was important right now. “Things might be in our favor in that regard, but the real danger comes from the elements. It’s quite out, isn’t it? Much colder than it was a few minutes ago. I’m not sure what to make of it.”

“I know, right? It is super cold out here all of a sudden, isn’t it? I mean, it was never that warm to start with, but this is another kind of cold altogether. Almost reminds me of the curse I was talking about before.” She shivered, forcing herself to hurry forward and closer to V in a hopeless bid to steal a little bit of his residual warmth by being in closer proximity to him. “Oh yea, I didn’t go into that yet, hu? You wanna hear about it now that we’re further from the road?”

He nodded, shivering along with her as he tucked his head down and drew his arms around himself closer. “I’d be willing to believe that there is something supernatural going on in regards to this weather. It feels at least a good ten or so degrees colder than it was before, and that is a lot for the temperature to drop all at once.”

Morgan shrugged and nodded, agreeing. “I’d check my phone and tell you, but I don’t have any reception out here. All I can really do is look at the time. This whole town is a dead zone for my carrier. Grandma used to blame the forest. She blamed everything she couldn’t explain on the forest. It was kinda annoying but funny all at once. I’m gonna miss her.” She looked mournful for a moment, her eye hazel eyes brimming with unshed tears. She wiped her face, the uncomfortable sting of cold air helping to pull her out of her momentary slump. She’d have to save her grief for when they escaped. “It’s probably rude of me to ask, and you don’t have to answer, but do you ever miss your family. I know you never met them, but do you?”

For a moment, V paused, taking several deep breaths. After a moment he wordlessly carried on, looking down towards the ground and then ahead again as though here were physically trying to put the past behind him. It was a touchy topic, and she’d been as tactful as she probably knew how to be when approaching something so sensitive, but it still hurt to contemplate. There were some things that he liked to keep private, and this was one of them. It was very much unlike him to indulge in such deep personal conversation with someone that he genuinely didn’t know very well, but there was something about her that almost compelled him to do so. Maybe it was just the part of him that didn’t like to see a sad child, and he hoped to distract her from the recent tragedy that she’d experienced first hand with his own somewhat painful experiences. He couldn’t imagine what kind of effect seeing your grandparents being murdered in front of you might have on someone. It was a wonder she’d escaped with her life.

Almost instantly, the superstitious corner of his mind considered that outcome a little harder than it needed to, putting him further on edge than he needed to be. Was it possible that she was…? No. There was no way. He’s seen enough horror movies to be able to say with certainty that he was simply falling into the depths of his own paranoia. She’s probably killed one of the men who she’d have to be working with the night before. That wasn’t at all conducive to the kind of tricks she’d have to be pulling on him in order to be in on this entire situation. If anything, they might have let her go in order to follow her, but it would be very illogical for him to believe that she was knowingly in on this plot to destroy the town. He needed to get out of that part of his mind. It didn’t help either of them.

In his momentary lapse of cognizance, he realized that he hadn’t given her any sort of answer. V mentally chastised himself for being impolite again, despite the fact that manners should have been at the bottom of his list of concerts at that given point. “... I tend to get lost in my thoughts, Morgan. Hopefully you’ll forgive my lack of conversation skills. It’s not often that I have long conversations with other people. Or conversations at all.” A sad smirk spread across his face for a moment as he considered the fact that this young teenager probably had a much more active social life than he did. But nothing about his upbringing had encouraged him to make small talk with other people. Quite the opposite. He was simply socially inept to some degree, and that was a fact that he was going to have to reconcile within himself. “I… I do think about them from time to time. And it never becomes less painful. If anything, it hurts more the older I get. It’s the not knowing, I think. Having no answers as to what happened to my parents weighs heavily upon me, but I don’t think I will ever be allowed such closure.”

Morgan gave him a hurt, sad look, taking a moment to brush her sandy brown hair out of her face. The wind refused to allow her to privilege of being able to see clearly, and her hair didn’t help that. She extended her hand with no hesitation, tapping him on his right side as if to gain his attention. V looked back at her, clearly unsure as to what her intentions were. When he noticed that she’d stopped for a moment, he halted and turned to face her, somewhat confused. “I’ve said too much, haven’t I. Forgive me.”

She shook her head, folding her arms. “You have to stop doing that to yourself. The blaming thing, I mean. It’s not your fault. People are just people sometimes. A lot of them are bad, but you deserve to be happy, too. Just don’t wait around for them to give it to you. Nothing good comes from that. Trust me, I know.” She started to walk again, hurrying past V as she tried to step through the deep snow that he normally helped flatten somewhat for her as a result of him walking ahead of her. There was a part of V that actually found it very funny how high she had to step in order to get her legs out of the snow, but he couldn’t imagine that she enjoyed having snow in her boots as a result.

After a moment to consider her words, he hurried after her, quickly supplanting her lead in order to make things easier for her. As much as he enjoyed watching her struggle pointlessly in the snow, he had to admit that it slowed them bot down significantly, and they had fought very hard to make sure that those hooded maniacs stayed as far behind them as possible. Any further delays only helped in their enemy’s favor. “Your right. Maybe a change is in order for both of us. We can start with a change of topic. I’ve love to hear that story now if you’re still willing to tell it to me.”

She shrugged, indifferent either way. “Sounds good to me. I’ve had enough sadness for one day. It’s not a super long story, but I think you’ll probably like it. It’s super spooky!”

V watched as she rested her chin on the backs of her nickels, raising one eyebrow. He wasn’t entirely sure if she was doing this just to mess with him, but he found it entertaining nonetheless. Morgan had a vibrant and interesting personality, and that was something that he appreciated in a situation like this. It helped distract him from the awful reality that he actually did have to walk through this forest and hope that the residents of the next town over were willing to help them. Or that there were any residents left at all. There was still a part of him deep down that had to wonder if there were simply working towards another worse deathtrap. He was pretty sure that neither of them could contend with that outcome in their current state. It was a terrifying reality that he was unable to face at the moment despite the obvious need to do so, and as such, he would redirect his attention to things that scared him considerably less. Once she was done with her story, he would revisit the bleak reality that they currently found themselves in, and try to come up with another contingency plan. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

Morgan nodded in agreement, clearing her throat as quietly as she could. The super-chilled air wasn’t helping her breathing in the slightest, especially with all of this physical exertion added onto it. “Ok, so if I remember correctly it goes something like this. Basically, the land that this town sits on used to belong to a coven of witches like four or five hundred years ago. I think it was more like five hundred years ago. They came here because of some sort of witch hunt or something and they were hiding out to avoid being hunted down and killed wherever they came from. They stayed here for like a decade or something with their families, and then one day a group of settlers tried to move into town and they didn’t want them to so they asked them to leave. Long story short, the locals told the church or something that they were up here, and they were forced to flee, but when they left, the sealed some kind of cursed vault or something in a cave up in the woods, and they cursed the locals. Now every winter when the black clouds roll in, things just kinda go wrong for the town.”

V had to admit that this story was more interesting than he originally assumed it would be. “What kinds of things happen? In what manager do things go “wrong” for the town? I noticed that no one lives closer to the forest than half a mile or so. That’s how I was able to move here so cheaply. The woods weren’t an issue to me, and my landlord was eager to offload the property to someone.”

She nodded, taking his words into account. “I noticed that you lived super close to the woods. Your house is really old. One of the oldest ones around her. People moved into the inner circle decades ago when people started hearing voices in the middle of the night and just started sleepwalking into the woods. They’ve never found anyone who went into the forest alive. And then the farm animals just break the fences at night and run into the forest like something is making them do it. Well, sometimes. Other times, they find like a whole barn door torn off in the night and all the animals are missing their blood and stuff. Supposedly, someone kid went into the woods looking for their missing dog, and when they came back, their family shipped them off to some insane asylum. From what I’ve heard, they didn’t talk anymore. They just sat there and stared at the wall and didn’t move and didn’t react to anything that their family did. It creeped them out really bad. Then one day the dog came back, but they couldn’t find it. They would just hear it barking constantly, but there was never any indication that it was actually there. No paw prints, fur, nothing. It’s super creepy. They moved out after a year or so, and no one has heard from them since. And as for going into the forest…”

He noticed that she’d stopped to look around, an uneasy look on her face. He wondered for a moment if he should ask, certain aspects of her story making him uneasy. “What does the legend say about that?”

Morgan shook her head. “You sure you want to know? It’s pretty creepy, and it affects you way more than it does me.”

V gave her a funny look but nodded in agreement, now more curious than he was before in a morbid sort of way. “You have my attention, so yes. I would like to know.”

The young girl shrugged, seemingly resigned to her fate. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Supposedly the leader of the witches left behind some sort of prophecy. Apparently one day her henchmen would, and I quote, “descent from hell and search for a vessel for their lord, and their lord would rain hellfire down upon the lands, corrupting and rotting everything they touched in recompense for the crimes that they’d committed.” I hear that the original “vessel” was supposed to be that witch’s son who she had with the devil or something, and that because he was killed in the raid that ran them out of town, she said what she said. Either way, it’s spooky because that kid was like your age or so, and guys from the town like to go missing into the woods around their 20th birthday. That’s why all the guys between sixteen and twenty one leave every winter. Your like the only one who’s in town right now, and they tend to just walk off into the woods at night. It’s never really happened with the girls. Just the guys. Some of them said they were called to the place where the vault is located, and then they just disappeared during the night. Some of them even fell to their deaths after being locked in their rooms during the night to avoid this situation. They broke their windows and that was that. Others mysteriously died after being left in their rooms, and none of the doctors were able to figure out why. Those people lived a lot closer to the woods from what I remember.”

Despite his general resolve to consider folklore as just that, he was suddenly very uncomfortable. “They just… disappear? And this has been going on for hundreds of years? Have you seen it happen?”

Morgan looked very creeped out, but nodded in agreement. “My grandparents lived next to the house that the dog people lived in. I used to watch them run around the house looking for it, and I talked to their son once after the accident. He just stared at me, grabbed my arm, and pointed to the woods. Took like ten minutes for his parents to get him to let me go. Left a really bad bruise on my arm. The next day I swear I saw that dog. I’m not kidding. It was just sitting in front of my living room window, looking in at me. It didn’t move or anything, and I swear it was bigger than it had been before. And his eyes were just… black, and ash or dust or something came out of his mouth every time he exhaled like his breath was hot or something. Scariest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life. That was the only time I’ve ever been sent home early, and I didn’t get to come back the next year. Most people got rid of their dogs after that, and from what I’ve heard, cats hate it here. They never go near the windows, and they are always stressed out or scared. A law was passed like three years ago banning them from the city for “health and safety reasons”, but we all knew the real reason.”

V found himself staring at her, actually unnerved by her statement. While it could easily just be the osmosis effect of an active imagination and living next to a house full of people that were clearly going through something mysterious and having to hear about constantly from the adults in her life, there was a part of V that believed that what she said was true. “... I believe you.”

A look of utter shock came across her face as they both subconsciously hurried forward, jogging towards the tops of chimneys now clearly visible ahead of them. They were close now, closer than they’d even been. But to what, neither of them knew. But what they did know was that there was only one way that they could ever find out, and that was to go down the embankment into the area and see for themselves. Even if everything in them was too scared to know the truth, they still needed to know. “Why do you believe me, V. My own mother doesn’t believe me. You have to have a reason, right? Tell me. Please.”

He looked away from Morgan for a moment before turning back towards her as they reached the edge of the woods, stopping to catch their breath for a moment. A sudden feeling of dread gripped V like a chest, threatening to crush every bone in his chest. “Would you believe me if I told you I’ve heard whispering coming from the woods at night recently? That I woke up leaned against the fence that surrounds my backyard and couldn’t remember for the life of me how I got there? Because I have. I’m certain that the only reason I wasn’t on the other side of it now is because it’s nearly twice my height.” He shuttered slightly, unwilling but unable to believe anything else. He was far from superstitious, but there was no denying what he’d experienced. I must confess that I’ve been seeing strange things like what you just described seeing with that dog for as long as I can remember. It stopped for a few years when I went to school, but ever since I’ve moved to this town, it’s started again. It’s infrequent, but it still happens. And the strangest part is that for a long time, I forgot that it ever happened. It comes back to me little by little, and I’m not sure what to make of it.”

Morgan stared at him, a concerned look on her face. It was as if he’d just informed her that he had been diagnosed with terminal cancer. She looked down at the roofs below her and then back at him, something unreadable in her eyes. “I won’t pretend to know what’s going on in this town. I don’t know if I even believe in the curse. But I’ve seen enough spooky stuff in this place that I can’t explain to say that if you’re not lying, then we need to walk a little bit faster because that doesn’t sound good. And once we get out of here, I don’t think that either of us should ever come back.”

V nodded, assessing the quickest route forward that wasn’t straight down. They were on uneven ground, and neither of them needed to fall fifty feet to their deaths after coming this far. Mental and physical fatigue suddenly set in as he exhaled heavily, shivering both from their conversation and the elements. “I don’t think I’ve ever agreed with anyone more in my entire life. Let’s get out of here before it’s too late.”

-~-

Hey everyone! I hope you liked this chapter! I loved reading your comments on the last chapter! It’s always nice to hear from the people who read my fics. Well, unless they are those lovely people that contact me at least once a month to tell me how much they hate my au, but still. Just needed to get that off of my chest because dear god, it gets so old. If you have any questions, feel free to ask! I’d love to talk to you about them. Maybe I’ll even throw a few inspirations and such for where I got the ideas for this in the notes for the next chapter. I hope you’ve all had a good week so far, and I hope to see you again on Friday. Take care!

[make-it-mavis]

Homesick (Entry #37)

(cw: alcohol mention, fire) ----------

01/25/88   11:53 PM

Hey.

I wish I could say that I walked away from that heated encounter at therapy with little to no after effects. That I marched on back to my game, got some sleep, and continued on my road to recovery without missing a beat. I wish I could say that.

But that would just be unrealistic. 

When I went back to my game after the whole thing with Worluk, I told my cousin what happened. He reacted just about the same as I’d expected him to. Horrified, relieved I was safe, glad justice was served before she could hurt anyone else. He also told me how proud he was of me for not using violence to solve my problem. The praise felt a little misplaced, given how much I did actually fantasize about ripping her to shreds, and I told him that. But that just made him all the prouder, he said. It was the fact that, unlike so many past instances, I didn’t act on those impulses.

It was a pretty big deal for me. But I still didn’t quite know how to accept his pride. That much hadn’t changed.

I felt pretty sick, so I turned in kind of early, but I didn’t sleep well. Some of the old confusing flashbacks were eating at me again. I’d be nearly asleep, just dipping into dreamspace when phantom memories of fire and explosions and echoing screams would jolt me awake. I hadn’t had visions like those in a while, but I also hadn’t been quite that sober in a while.

The next morning carried on like any other at first, apart from me being quieter than I’d normally be. Fix-it had his breakfast and morning coffee. He yammered at me for a little bit. Some Nicelanders showed up, and then he yammered at them for a little bit. Then, after wishing me a good day, he left with the others, and the arcade opened.

I wasn’t sure what to do with myself. But since painting had been so soothing before, I figured I’d try that. It certainly couldn’t hurt. I hauled out the tarp and Fix-it’s paints and papers. I sat cross-legged by the blank sheet for a while, feeling dry of creativity. But I forced myself to start anyway, trying to let my thoughts and feelings fall freely and paint along to them.

What was I feeling, anyway?

I took a deep breath and tried to meditate on that question as I painted.

Grey. Unsure. Numb. Lukewarm. I wanted to be happy about Worluk being arrested. It should have been closure on her traumatic chapter of my life. But I just wasn’t satisfied. What she had said about her sister’s ‘burning body’ just opened up too much mystery for me to put her out of my mind and move on. It wasn’t really the idea of me jumping over a burning sprite to get to you that was so disturbing. It was just the fact that I couldn’t remember it. I kept trying to brush it off and say that Worluk was just some raving lunatic spouting nonsense. But what if she wasn’t?

White. Blank. Cold. Lost. I couldn’t stand not remembering that day. Not remembering how you died. Not knowing your whole story. Out of anyone, I should have been the one to know. No one was closer to you than me. I was your friend. Best friend. Or something else entirely.

Yellow. Confused. Nauseous. Anxious. 

I paused. Three colors splotched the canvas in aimless, abstract shapes. Part of me almost laughed, but in a really joyless way. This palette I’d been subconsciously putting together out of distress reminded me of something that used to make me happy. It was just missing one color.

Red. Demanding. Arrogant. Bold.

You.

I’d almost painted you by accident. Not in the right shapes, but the right colors were there. Some of them, anyway. Just the surface colors, the ones I could see on your pixels. Just seeing all of them together was enough to put a pang of what I could only describe as ‘miserable affection’ in my chest. It suddenly felt like it had been so long since I even took the time to think about you. I’d been so occupied with counselling, I guess I just didn’t want to give myself the chance to miss you too much and derail things.

But I was taking a break from counselling. I was alone. I had nothing but time to spend remembering you. And whether I thought it was a good idea or not, it was happening. You poured down on my mind like heavy rain.

So, without really thinking about what I was doing, I kept painting with every color you inspired in me. 

Black for your smoky, metallic scent. Red-Violet for your overheated body. Sienna for your voice. Salmon for your genuine, high-pitched laugh. It did not take long for me to run out of space. I didn’t care. I kept painting. I smeared heaping gobs of color until the paper was slathered with glistening, muddy slime that was likely too thick to dry. 

Eventually, I stopped. I could have just gotten another sheet of paper, but I felt too heavy to stand. I just sat there, staring at my gloves that were speckled with tiny flecks of paint. My heart, I finally noticed, had been pounding. I’d been running for so long from how I felt when I remembered you. The hurt. The betrayal. The moments of resentment. Worst of all were the moments when I simply, truly missed you.

This was one of those moments. 

I wish that I could say that by that point, I’d learned to stop running away. That I didn’t have it in me anymore. I’d like to say that I just went limp and sank into the feeling until it inevitably either drowned me or I learned to breathe through it. But I wasn’t ready to believe I could do that. I didn’t trust myself. I didn’t trust reality to remain sound. But you were raining on me whether I chose it or not. I was neck-deep, floundering.

And then the desperation, as it has so often done, turned me a little strange.

The first thing I did was remove my gloves, and then my smock. It felt like all else in the world went quiet as I wet my fingers with a rainbow of paint. Keep it together, I told myself. Deep breaths. It was just color. All feelings, all memories, are just color. And color is choice. I could choose not to hurt over you if I just redirected. If I took every color that you were not, and wore them like armor to protect myself from all thoughts of you.

So I just… painted myself. 

There were too many shades to rightly recall. Teal, bronze, vermillion, lavender, aqua, magenta, seafoam, you name it. But they didn’t keep you out. They just invited you in. For every color, there was some emotion, or some memory, that reminded me of my time with you. I fought to keep it together, but I couldn’t. I spiraled, and I spiraled hard. I grabbed onto my hair, and it clumped together in the paint between my fingers. I told myself that I’d done enough. I had taken a moment to mourn you, but I wouldn’t let it get to me. Not like it had done in the past. I was beyond that. I’d grown past it. I kept repeating: Don’t let it get to you. Don’t let it get to you. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about him. Don’t think about him right now.

Don’t think about his smarmy smile. Don’t think about his pointy ears. Don’t think about the lisp he worked so hard to hide. Don’t think about how he constantly bit his tongue. Don’t think about that time he rode an Excitebike and broke his nose. Don’t think about how his hands were rough from mechanic work. Don’t think about the times we spent sending Don’s sailboat models down the Frogger river in flames. Don’t think about the time he fell in an open grave in Ghosts n’ Goblins. Don’t think about pranking him for the first time. Don’t think about your bar fight at Tapper’s after. Don’t think about the trashy music he always played in his garage. Don’t think about how terrible he was at dancing. Don’t think about how tightly he’d hold you when he thought you were asleep. Don’t think about his stupid hair that always had to be a perfect mess. Don’t think about his actually really cool abstract contour line drawings. Don’t think about the time we microwaved six eggs just to watch them explode. Don’t think about the first time he brought you takeout without being asked. Don’t think about the first time you let him touch you. Don’t think about how it sometimes felt like you were the only two sprites in the arcade. Don’t think about how he made you feel like you belonged somewhere.

Don’t think about how you’ve forever lost your chance to tell him that.

That was it. 

That did me in. 

The good ol’ unreality came crashing back -- it couldn’t be true. You couldn’t be gone. It wasn’t real. By extension, nothing was real. Niceland was just a popsicle stick model that would collapse on top of me at any moment. Everyone I’d spoken to for weeks were just holograms. Even I didn’t feel real. I didn’t understand how I could be so numb and still be in so much pain. It was a nightmare. I needed to get away. I needed intervention, some kind of release, anything to chase the horror away.

I stood, feeling like I was in a trance. I had just the faintest control over my body. Everything I’d learned in counselling flashed in my head, but it did not take. I was driven by almost life-or-death urgency, as if I’d ingested poison and desperately needed the antidote. I shambled into the kitchen, marking cabinets with rainbow fingerprints as I looked for absolutely anything alcoholic. But Fix-it’s not a drinker, unsurprisingly. I wish that alone had been enough to stop me, but I carried my search into the bathroom. And there, on the spotless porcelain sink, sat a bottle of blue mouthwash.

Technically alcoholic.

I grabbed it. It seemed like the paint itself was trying to dissuade me, making the bottle so hard to grip. As I struggled to twist the cap off, I was screaming at myself internally to make the right choice. Make any other choice at all. But I needed it, I thought. I was in so much pain and I needed a drink or I’d…

I paused, shaking, the uncapped bottle almost to my lips. I finally saw myself in the mirror, smeared with a rainbow of garish war paint that covered almost all of my exposed skin and stained bits of my clothes. I looked beautiful, honestly. But the bottle of mouthwash in my hand, about to be my one last pathetic attempt at drowning my sorrows? It spoiled the beauty. It was below me. No matter how badly I was hurting, I knew better.

Pain explains, but it does not justify. 

Yeah. Damn it. Damn it all.

That was enough time for the bottle to slip from my fingers and hit the floor with a sloshing thud, spewing its bright blue contents over the floor, and along with it, my last chance to run from the pain. My back hit the wall as I stumbled, a sticky hand clapped over my face. I sank to the floor. It was there that I cried harder and longer than I have in my entire life.

There was just no escape from how much I missed you.

My best friend.

I stayed there for hours in Fix-it’s bathroom after my crying breakdown, crumpled in the corner. I might have fallen asleep a little bit, because I remember sort of waking up as the arcade closed. I heard the rumbling of Wreck-it pounding the building stop for good, and then the parade of little footsteps overhead as Nicelanders descended the stairs and returned to their homes. Which meant Fix-it would not be far behind.

And he’d see me. In my… state.

That couldn’t happen. I couldn’t deal with that, not after such an atrociously messy breakdown. I knew it wasn’t the right move, and I knew he would have only wanted to help, but I sprang to my feet and locked his front door anyway. When that didn’t satisfy me, I grabbed a chair from the kitchen and propped it under the door handle. 

There was something awful driving me. Some deep panic. It felt avoidant, like I just couldn’t face whatever was coming. But it wasn’t just Fix-it, I noticed as I feverishly paced. I couldn’t carry on with things the way they were. I was done. I was sick of it. I was sick of you being gone and me just having to live with that, with no memory of you passing. I couldn’t stand that I had to carry on just convincing myself our story had ended, while it seemed like everyone else had witnessed it first-hand. It wasn’t right. I had no closure. I just had nightmares of explosions, screaming, and fire.

Fire, fire, fire. 

It was always fire. It seemed like no matter what happened, fire would not leave my head. Even the yellow, orange, and red colors of my brush were all fiery, and I knew that wasn’t a coincidence. I’d been so hung up on this stupid mysterious fire for so long. Then there was my odd fear of the fireworks. And the sea of gasoline in that dream, when you told me, “Come find me in the fire…”

I froze. ‘Find me in the fire.’ 

The front door handle jiggled and the door struggled against the chair. I heard Fix-it’s confused grunt. “Mavy?” he called. “Mavy, are you in there?”

I didn’t answer. He was nearly drowned out by the pounding in my ears. 

Whatever happened on August 7th had fallen out of my mind. Well, sort of. It’s not that the memories were gone completely, they were just virtually inaccessible. Bits and pieces had been haunting me since you left. Fire brought vague, horrifying flashbacks of painful memories I didn’t recognize. But what if I wanted to recognize them? What if I didn’t run away when things got painful? Could I bring back the entire memory if I walked up to my fear and stepped inside it?

‘Find me in the fire,’ you had said. ‘Find me in the fire.’

Listen. You know me. By now, you’d probably be able to guess what I was about to do. But in the heat of the moment, even I wasn’t sure. I was going full autopilot, possessed by some stupid idea that probably wasn’t going to work. I think my destructive instincts were relapsing after being peaceful and constructive for too long. In any case, I searched the apartment like a bloodhound for the means to bring my impulsive plan to fruition, and fast.

It didn’t take long. In Fix-it’s utility closet, I found paint thinner. The irony of which sailed clear over my head at the time. The little flame symbol on the label was all I cared about.

I felt completely outside of my body as I poured the foul-smelling stuff all over everything. The floor, the furniture, the walls, even the bathroom. Fix-it was pounding and yelling at the door by then, demanding to know if I was alright. 

“I’m fine,” I told him as I shook out the last drops. 

I heard him sigh. “Mav-- Why is the door locked? Wait--” he paused, and then he spoke with the urgency of a man who has dealt with me his whole life, “-- what’s that smell? What are you doing in there?!”

I stood in the middle of the living room, right next to my muddy painting. All the fumes were starting to give me a headache by that point, so I opted to hurry it up. I took my brush -- my coded, faulty brush -- in my hand, and with the color red, I painted into my palm a fist-sized cherry bomb. Then, painting an orange spark, I lit it.

“Art project,” I called out to him. Taking a deep, unsteady breath, I took just long enough to mentally hold my own hand and tell myself that no matter what I saw or didn’t see, I was gonna be okay. 

You may not have been fireproof. But I am.

I rolled the bomb in the direction of the bathroom. 

“Mavy?!”

Closing my eyes, steeling myself to the imminent blast, I said, “I’ll be out in a minute.”

BANG.

The bomb went off, and I was staggered by a wall of suffocating heat as the apartment roared with flame. I caught myself on the coffee table and, trembling, opened my eyes. They stung immediately, and I blinked hard against the vicious light. The very air seemed stained a dry, sick red. It was just as terrifying as I had hoped, watching arms of hellfire claw across the floor, over the furniture, up the walls, quickly filling the ceiling with a black sea of smog. Squinting through it towards the door, I could see that the blast had knocked a bookshelf onto its side, only barricading the door further. It seemed to shake as Fix-it presumably rammed against it from the other side. If he was still calling out to me, I couldn’t hear him over the ringing in my ears. 

So, what did I do?

I just stood up straight and… stayed there. I didn’t crouch beneath the smoke. I just let the flames crawl up to my feet and creep up my clothes, threatening to melt all my pixels together. The pain was quickly becoming too much to bear, but I focused on that. I wanted it to hurt. I wanted to feel the fire eat all the confusing layers away, until I could finally see the truth.

So many horribly familiar sensations snuck up on me. The sickening smell of the burn. The hot ash reaching down my throat and choking me. The painful dryness in my eyes. Reality felt unsteady. I quickly became very dizzy from the suffocating fumes, and I could no longer hold up my own weight. I remember stumbling backwards, and my darkening vision fell on the kitchen just in time to see the oven split apart, erupting in an explosion exponentially bigger than the first.

I was forced back, I lost my footing, and fell into memories so vivid, I may as well have been living them again.

I’m just… going to need a minute before I tell you about it. But you can wait. 

Wherever you are, I’m sure you remember the day you died.