#and she knows she will forever be dead to him

[crystalshard]

"So how'd you find this place?" Tucker asked, leaning over Danny's shoulder as he brought the Specter Speeder to a halt. The machine was easier to drive now that Danny had shot up in height and bulk; not quite his father's size, but at seventeen he looked like a Hollywood action lead. (He'd been so smug the day Dash realized Danny was taller than him.)

Danny tapped his fingers on the console, refusing to look at his friends. "So, uh, you know how the dead reside in the Ghost Zone? Turns out that sometimes buildings end up here too, especially if they're important to history. Notre Dame before it burned down, the Kryptonian Science Council building, the Library of Alexandria—Ghost Writer claimed that one—and a bunch of others. And then there's this place. Some old office block, a former newspaper publisher or something." He gestured at the skyscraper, topped by a rusting sphere that leaned forever precarious towards the edge of the building.

Beside him, Sam hummed. "Old historic buildings. You're wondering what makes this one so special."

Danny huffed out an unneeded breath and nodded, white hair flickering in the corners of his vision. "Exactly."

Sam grinned fiercely even as Tucker groaned. "Boys," she said gleefully. "Get your flashlights locked and loaded."

~

The building was dimly lit, even with the eternal swirling green glow outside. If Danny hadn't known that this was the Ghost Zone, he'd have thought he was back on Earth; worn carpet gray with dust, old CRT monitors hulking on the desks, computers that wouldn't have a tenth of Tucker's PDA's processing power even if you combined them all together. No real change to the keyboards. An old cork noticeboard held faded messages and sun-burned photos, a whiteboard laying out news from decades ago. But nothing special.

Tucker poked around the old tech like an archaeologist who'd just found a thousand-year-old pile of trash, making noises that varied between impressed and horrified. Sam and Danny left him to it, Sam using her Human-in-the-Ghost-Zone powers of intangibility to wander through walls.

"Hey, this is fun!" Sam stuck her head through a table. "Do you think we can find a plate? I want to do the head-on-a-plate thing—whoa!"

Faceplanting on absolutely nothing, Sam fell through the ceiling. Shifting back to human, Danny followed, phasing through in a more controlled manner. It seemed attic space was attic space, even in office blocks; racks of broken computers even older than the ones downstairs, shelves groaning with filed and forgotten paperwork, cardboard boxes dotted here and there, a pile of cotton t-shirts all marked 'Daily Planet'.

"Sam?" he called.

Tucker poked his head through the floor, rising like a bad 50s Hammer Horror ghost. "Are you guys oka—wow, is that an old 80s overhead projector?"

"Danny!" Sam rocketed around the corner, holding up a mass of red and blue fabric. "Put this on!"

Danny shook the fabric out, letting the giant S-shaped symbol hang clear. "Uh, Sam?" His voice shook. "Do you know what this is?"

Sam huffed. "Of course. It's Superman's costume from before the heroes and villains all vanished. Come on, put it on, it's not like he's around to complain!"

"This is going to look stupid," Danny complained, but he took the costume and vanished behind a pile of boxes anyway. A couple of minutes of muttering and the occasional swearword later, and he emerged from his hiding place. "Here, Sam, hold these."

"Ewww, stinky pants." Sam wrinkled her nose, but also bundled his regular clothes under her arm like the good friend she was. Eyeing him up and down, all she had to say was, "Huh."

"Huh," Tucker agreed, his gaze equally as assessing.

"'Huh'?" Danny echoed, narrowing his eyes.

Tucker's voice was gentle, like a doctor giving bad news. "Uh, I don't know how to say this, bro, but you're a dead ringer for Superman."

"The costume fits perfectly," Sam agreed. "You should keep that for next Halloween."

"Ugh, he wears his underpants on the outside," Danny grumbled, but he didn't argue. It was safest not to, once Sam had made up her mind.

Tucker took a step back and bumped into the overhead projector.

Something clicked.

The projector hummed to life, the text blurry and uneven against the shelves but nonetheless readable.

Help us, said the handwritten words. Bring them home.

"Bring them home?" Sam echoed. "Bring who home?"

The projector might have had answers, but the ground crumbling under their feet had all three teenagers screaming as they fell. Danny's instinctive attempt to fly failed, and he tumbled to the ground along with the rest of them in a cloud of shattered concrete and broken ceiling panels.

Uh. There were people staring at them. Real, living people. And sunlight outside. This was a real office. With real, working 90s technology. Danny could smell the faint, sweet smell of ozone coming from the CRT monitors.

And a tall, well-built man in glasses was looking at Danny in something approaching horror.

Danny has no idea how Sam convinced Tucker and himself to go urban exploring in this creepy old office building that belonged to a local newspaper that went bankrupt sometime in the 90s and yet here they were, flashlights in hand, walking up the dusty unkept stairs to reach what used to be an office space on the top floor.

Danny also has no idea what happened after he and his friends opened the staircase door into the decrepit and run down office space and started to wander around, looking at old nicknacks and and abandoned technology left at office spaces, when suddenly he heard a cracking sound and all of them were suddenly falling as the old buildings floor gave way to the trios weight.

———

Jimmy Olsen doesn’t really register what happened. One moment he was talking to Clark about the front page worthy photo he took yesterday on Intergangs illegal weapon trade, and the next a horrible cracking sound was heard. Before Jimmy even registered what the cause of the noise was, Clark already had his arms around the photographer, tackling him out of the way of crumbling concrete and ceiling panels and,,, teenagers?

The entire Daily Planet Office were staring in shock and surprise at the three teenagers who were somehow not gravely injured from the fall, instead just groaning in annoyance like they accidentally rolled off of a bed mid sleep instead of falling 50 feet through the Daily Planet’s vaulted ceilings and onto the tiled floor.

[waterlilyvioletfog]

Rating Scum Villain Characters By How Much I Cheer When I See Them Depicted With Grey Hair

It goes without saying that this list is highly subjective. But it makes me happy! I have not actually seen all these characters with grey hair, i don’t think. Listed ages reflect end of book except where stated otherwise.

Mobei-jun: 2/10. Age: fuck if I know. We’ll say he’s like 39. I understand the whole ice prince aesthetic makes silver/white haired Mobei-jun attractive to some people but I personally think it’s really funny if he just looks absurdly young forever. Assigned youngest child.

Shang Qinghua: 6/10. Age: like 40 or 80 if you count his first life. Shang Qinghua’s perpetual state of total stress is one of his most defining characteristics so grey hair for this character makes sense. Also jives well with his whole sleazy uncle kind of vibe. When paired with above, it can make MBJ look like SQH’s inappropriately younger boyfriend, which is deeply funny to me. Unfortunately, the twinkification of this character in fandom limits my opportunities to experience this kind of joy.

Luo Binghe: 0/10. Age: like 25. It just feels wrong.

Shen Jiu: 8/10. Age: depends, we’ll say 40. If Shen Jiu had grey hair he would dye that shit so fucking fast. Yue Qingyuan would try to re-assure him that oh, shidi, grey hair is nothing to be ashamed about!! And Shen Jiu would be like you stupid fuck it’s clearly caused by my terrible shitty cultivation GET OFF MY FUCKING MOUNTAIN!!!!!!!! But fun fact! It is actually caused by his constant hyper-vigilance, PTSD, and meteoric stress levels. 🙏💚

Ning Yingying: 1/10. Age: also like 25. Gets 1 point for the hilarity of a character named baby ending up prematurely grey.

Ming Fan: 5/10. Age: 27-ish. This kid is so fucking stressed. Obviously this more applies post-jump, not to volume 1!Ming Fan. There is excellent potential here though for every time something happens to Shen Qingqiu, Ming Fan shows up looking greyer and more haggard.

Liu Mingyan: 0/10. Age: like 25. Idk it just doesn’t inspire me.

Sha Hualing: 1/10. Age: also like 25. I was gonna say 0/10 and then i thought about Luo Binghe-wrangling giving her grey hair and her furiously dyeing it black again and I thought it was funny. Sue me.

Gongyi Xiao: 2/10 Age: ??? Dead anyways. See, if the depiction of GYX gives him grey hair, that means he lived long enough to have grey hair 🥺

Yang Yixuan: -10/10 Age: Baby. Reason: Baby.

Tianlang-jun: 10/10. Age: I don’t fucking know, man. Lots of great reasons to give TLJ some greys. # 1, it helps distinguish him visually from Binghe. # 2, appropriate since he is an evil DILF. # 3: my guy got crushed under a mountain for like twenty years I think that entitles him to some grey hair. # 4: I think he’d be completely ridiculous about it. I am imagining him frantically denying he looks his age and demanding Zhuzhi-lang tell him he still looks pretty.

Zhuzhi-lang: 3/10. Age: ?????? On the one hand, ZZL is probably old enough and stressed enough to have grey hair. On the other other hand, his hair is typically depicted as mostly green, partially snakes, so, like, ymmv.

Su Xiyan: 6/10. Age: dead, would probably be in her 40s/50s if she were alive. Look, I cannot deny the appeal of giving some grey hair to the dead dilf mother of all time. Tianlang-jun would also, unfortunately, be staggeringly horny about it.

Mu Qingfang: 7/10. Age: 40s-ish. *Nods approvingly*

Liu Qingge: 4/10. Age: 30-45. Liu Qingge is the assigned baby of the peak lords, so giving him grey hair always feels weird to me. He would look pretty with like a cool silver streak tho. I do also see some appeal to him acquiring grey hair during the five year time skip due to the *hand waves*.

Qi Qingqi: 7/10. Age: 40s-ish. MILF.

Yue Qingyuan: 16/10. Age: 40s-ish. Makes absolutely perfect sense. This is one of the most stressed men alive. He’s very literally the assigned da-ge by the narrative. His cultivation is a total mess because of Xuan Su! Frankly, I’m surprised his hair isn’t totally white by the end of this book! because it would make sense!! within its literary and cultural context from what I know!! Also, it would work with his wardrobe.

Shen Qingqiu: 10/10. Age: 27-ish, technically, except also in his 40s, except also immortal so who really knows. Similar to YQY and TLJ, this makes sense. Shen Qingqiu’s abysmal physical health and terrible mental health are persistent throughout the text, and things like Without A Cure and the widow arc are perfect excuses for SQQ to have grey hair. It makes him look older, which is fun in SQQ’s context for a variety of reasons, including the fact that LBH would find it hot. Elegant, Beautiful, Graceful, Scholarly Qing Jing Peak Lord Shen having grey hair is a beautiful thing indeed 💚

[larluce]

Another angst merthur AU that occured to me recently.

So remember the 50 First Dates movie? where a girl has short-term memory due to an accident and forgets the boy when she falls asleep, so he resolves to win her over again each new day.

Well, what if Merlin had this condition?

It would be during "The Secret Sharer" chapter when Merlin goes with Gwaine to look for Gaius after Arthur didn't listen to him about Agravaine. In this AU Merlin doesn't get there in time, Gaius dies and, in his rage and sorrow, his magic lashes out and destroys the cave they were in, killing Morgana and Agravaine in the process. Gwaine gets out there in time but Merlin ends up under the rubble, so Gwaine, after trying to dig Merlin out in vain, goes to the citadel to get help.

Arthur and the rest of the knights arrive there as fast as they can and dig for hours. Gwaine doesn't tell Arthur about Merlin's magic, he just says they found Agravaine conspiring with Morgana, that Agravaine killed Gaius and, suddenly, the cave collapsed. Arthur digs more desperatly, filled with guilt and not wanting to accept Merlin is dead. Time passes and they find Morgana's and Agravaine's corpses, but not Merlin's. The knights try to tell his king there's no way Merlin could've survived this, that he's gone, but Arthur won't listen and keeps searching.

Finally, when the sun is about to rise, they find Merlin unconcious, severely injured, but alive, just barely. They take Merlin back to the citadel, but, since they have physician no more, they turn to the druids for medical attention for Merlin. To the surprise of the king, they are more than willing to help his servant.

When Merlin wakes up, the last thing he remembers is his fight with Arthur about Gaius being the traitor and then nothing. Arthur doesn't want Merlin to relive the pain of lossing Gaius, but he must tell him, so he breaks the bad news to his friend. The image of Merlin going from denial to let out a heart-rending cry and finally shouting at him in anger for letting this happen, will forever hunt him. So when Merlin yells at him to leave, he obbeys. The least he could do is spare Merlin from the presence of the person that has failed him.

Some time later. At night. In Merlin's room.

Arthur: (enters, hesitant, walking on eggshells) Hey... Gwaine said you wanted to speak to me.

Merlin: (sitting on his bed, not even looking at him, face neutral and dead inside) ...

Arthur: (heartbroken at seing him like this) I'm so sorry. This is my fault and I will never forgive myself-

Merlin: (deadpans) I'm a sorcerer.

Arthur: ...

Arthur: What?

Merlin: I'm a sorcerer. I have magic.

Arthur: Very funny.

Merlin: (turns to him, serious) Do you see me laughing?

Arthur: (getting nervous) Yo-you can't be a sorcerer. I would know.

Merlin: Just as you knew Gaius was the traitor and Agravaine your so trusted ally.

Arthur: (hurt, because that was a low blow) That's not fair. I know you are grieving but-

Merlin: So you are not going to believe me again then.

Arthur: If you are really a sorcerer. Why tell me this now?

Merlin: (tears forming in his eyes) Because I don't care anymore. About what you'll think of me or what you'll do, or about the fucking destiny, or fate. It's all bullshit.

Arthur: Merlin...

Merlin: (wipes his tears quickly) It doesn't matter if you believe it or not. I just confessed I'm a sorcerer to the king of the kingdom the condems such practice. Do with that information what you must.

Arthur doesn't say anything else, just gets out of the room very conflicted. He talks about what Merlin told him to his knights and, when he sees Gwaine's reaction, he knows Merlin wasn't lying. Arthur feels betrayed, of course, that Merlin has lied to him all this time, but then Gwaine, ultimate Merlin defender, reproaches him "Can you blame him?". And Arthur knows it's true. The one time Merlin has trusted him with something, he has failed him.

And Arthur realises, that's how Merlin wanted him to feel, because that's how he made Merlin feel. He is paying him with the same coin.

Or maybe he is testing him. Seeing what Arthur will do.

Arthur just knows that he can't execute Merlin, he won't, especially after almost lossing him along with Gaius due to his own blindness. So he waits till next morning to tell Merlin that. That he is forgiven and will not be executed, that he's willing to gain his trust, work hard to amend for his mistakes.

The next morning comes, but when Arthur enters the room...

Merlin: (all scared) Arthur! Wha-what happened? Why am I all bandage? Did you find Gaius?

Arthur: (confused) You know what happened. I told you yesterday.

Merlin: What are you talking about? The last thing I remember is that... (gets a bit sad) Is that we fought... (shakes his head) It doesn't matter. I just want to know if you found Gaius.

Arthur:(thinking, eyes wide in horror) Oh, no.

They call the druids again to check on Merlin and they give Arthur and his knights the sad news.

Druid: It seems his mind resets to the moment of your argument everytime he falls asleep. It could be a result of his head concussion, but we fear there's magic into it too.

Arthur: What do you mean there's magic?

Druid: There's a bit of magic encapsulating his brain. It could be some spell Morgana managed to cast on him before the fall or even something instinctual Emrys did to protect himself from the grieve.

Arthur: (hopefully) So you can undo it. Right?

Druid: (shakes his head, sadly) Brain magic is very difficult to cast and even more difficult to uncast. We could try, but that could also lead to a more severe brain damage too. It's too risky. I'm sorry.

Everyone is devasted. Most of all Arthur. He'll have go through watching Merlin suffer his father figure's death and recieve his resentment and hate for it EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. Arthur knows he deserves this, but not Merlin. It's just too cruel to have his friend grieve Gaius in a loop and never recover for it.

So Arthur resolves to save Merlin the pain.

Arthur: There was an attack. That's why you are injured.

Merlin: Attack?

Arthur: Morgana. You were right, my uncle was the traitor, not Gaius. I should have believed you.

Merlin: (with fear) Where... where is he?

Arthur: (pauses) Morgana died in the attack, but Agravaine escaped taking Gaius hostage. Don't worry, I have several search parties looking for them.

Merlin: (processes the news in silence for a moment and then tries to stand up) I have to go-

Arthur: (stops him, putting a hand on his shoulder) No, Merlin. You need to recover.

Merlin: But, I have to-

Arthur: I'll take care of this. Without Morgana Agravaine is not that much of a danger and he wouldn't dare harming Gaius knowing that he's the only thing that can guarantee his safety.

Merlin: (still looking doubtful)

Arthur: I'll tell you what. If today we have no news still, you can come with me in the next search party first thing in the morning.

Merlin: (hopeful smile) Really?

Arthur: (painfully smiles back) Yeah.

Merlin: (smiles more brightly) Thank you, Arthur.

Arthur: (tears roll down his eyes, not being able to contain them) No, Merlin. You shouldn't thank me. I... (thinking) I'm the reason you are like this, I'm the reason Gaius is dead. (says) This wouldn't have happened if I had listened to you. You are... hurt and it's my fault.

Merlin: (holds his hand) And you realised your mistake and apologised. You are looking for Gaius now and that's more than enough for me.

Arthur: (his heart breaking more)...

Merlin: (frowns his brow in concern) Now tell me about Morgana. I know it mustn't have been easy for you.

And that's the Merlin he has missed. The one that still cares for him, the one that still view him as a friend.

So Arthur keeps doing this everyday. Sometimes he makes up a new story to justify Gaius' absent. The knights play along, not wanting Merlin to suffer. It's painful, but also bittersweet. At least like this, Merlin can be happy in his ignorance. They can lift the burdens of his shoulders even if it means playing a theater play every single day.

That's all I got now. What do you think?

[izzygoesdark]

SMOKE AND MIRRORS

summary: The team is looking for an unsub who makes it impossible to create a proper profile. But maybe the answer is closer than they think. \\ pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!bau!reader \\ warnings: unsub!Spencer, accomplice!reader, some fingering, so MDNI. \\ words: 1.6k \\ series masterlist

There’s always a brief, fleeting moment that changes one’s life forever in this situation, like when you flip a switch to turn off the lights. It usually goes like this; a person tells them their loved one is dead, there’s a beat of heavy silence, and then BAM, like a dam broke. Someone cries, others shout and beg, while there are some who take it with quiet dignity, holding back the tears for God knows how long.

The man in front of you is a beggar, asking the doctor to tell him his daughter isn’t really dead, that she’ll miraculously come back to him after recovering. But she won’t. Her murderer did a good job, they made sure she couldn’t be saved, even if she made it to the hospital. 

You glance over at Spencer, who takes a shaky breath, unsure of how to act now, and when his uncertain hazel eyes turn to you, you simply flash a supportive smile at him as you shake your head slightly. This is not the right time to question the father, you have to give him some time to grieve, to finally accept that his daughter is gone forever.

So, as you wait for the tears of the father to stop falling for more than a minute, your colleague moves closer to you and reaches out to squeeze your hand. He knows this case is taking its toll on you, and he’s been supportive all along, and despite his own feelings, he’s willing to put that aside to be there for you.

There’s a clock on the wall of the waiting room, which tells you it took the victim’s father a good half hour to pull himself together enough to talk to the two of you. He blows in the air from his lungs in preparation, then stands up to walk over to where you’re sitting, only to take the chair across from you.

��Can you find whoever did it?” he asks you, his voice rough but full of hope.

On your side Spencer nods in a barely visible way, but it takes him a moment to pick the right words to say. It’s a good strategy, you can’t give the man false hope, mostly because this unsub is a mystery to the entire team. 

You only connected certain murders because there’s a little detail that’s there in every single one of them, a small marble in each victim’s stomach. But that’s it. The profile changes with each case, there’s no fix point beside the marbles, and the team is getting more and more frustrated. 

Are they working in a team? Is it some challenge for gang members? Or is it the work of a single unsub? 

The number of questions keeps rising, with no answer in sight. Hotch is getting frustrated as Strauss decided to put more pressure on him to close this case quickly, while the rest of the team is mad that the unsub is playing this stupid game with you. Catching them became a necessity for your mental health’s sake, so everyone’s working extra hard to find something concrete.

And then, you hear Spencer shift in his chair as he takes a breath. “We’re doing our best to catch him, but this is an unusually complicated case, it might take time. But we won’t give up anytime soon,” he adds in the end. 

The man nods and leans back to look up at the ceiling. “That’s good to hear,” he says quietly. 

You stay for a few more minutes, but then you decide it’s time to go back to the office. The walk to the parking lot passes in silence, mostly because you’re too lost in your thoughts, and Spencer is perfectly aware of that, this is why he reaches out for your hand again.

In the past year, you managed to hide your relationship from the team, which wasn’t some conscious decision, rather the result of the chaotic circumstances. There were moments when you wanted to tell them, but there was always a new case, some drama in someone else’s life, or anything that made you reconsider. 

“Do you think we should stop?” he asks quietly as he brushes his thumb over your knuckles.

Without hesitation, you shake your head. “No, of course we shouldn’t. I just… get a little sentimental sometimes, that’s all,” you tell him with a shy smile before standing on your toes to place a kiss on his cheek. 

But that’s not enough for Spencer. Something suddenly snaps in him, and he puts one hand on the back of your neck, his thumb pressing against your pulse point, while the other hand lands on your waist so he can guide you better. Your back hits the side of the car soon after, and he kisses you like his life depends on it. 

His eyes darkened a shade or two in the past minute or so, you can see the hunger in them, but he’s not hungry for you. Well, not just for you. But it doesn’t bother you, after all that thing he wants is what got you together, what created a bond strong enough to make it hard to exist without him. 

Your phone rings, interrupting your little make-out session, and you both let out an annoyed groan while you check who it is. “Hotch. I guess our little break ends now,” you tell your boyfriend, then place a quick kiss on his cheek before answering the call on speaker.

Back in the conference room, the team goes over the cases and profiles again, trying to find a way to find the logic in the chaos. The unsub in an earlier case was an uneducated man in their early twenties, another time everything pointed in the direction of a perfectionist middle aged woman, and in the most recent case it seemed like the girl was killed by an impatient teenage girl. 

Hell, once it seemed like there were two unsubs. 

The marble remained the only fix point in the case, and that’s it. Everyone had their own theory, their own profile, but when you tried to find similarities between them, you came up with nothing. The method, the victims, the unsub–everything changed each time, there was no pattern to see. Even Spencer didn’t notice one.

How could he, though?

“That little feminine touch in the teenager edition was a genius idea,” you note with a small smile as you’re driving home once the day is over.

Spencer reaches out to take your hand and lace his fingers with yours. Those long, slender fingers you love so much, whether they run over a page of a book or your body’s most sensitive parts. You shift in your seat when you think about the expert ways he uses them, which doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“I am a genius, after all,” he says with a smirk, responding to your question casually, while his body does the rest of the talking. He lets go of your hand to move his own to your core, teasing you through the fabric of your pants. 

“That you are,” you breathe.

Seconds later you successfully bite back a moan when he pushes his knuckles harder against you, and for the first time that day you’re happy this is one of those days when he decided to take the wheel. Focusing on driving and his hand that is slowly slipping under the waist of your pants at the same time would be impossible.

Without thinking, you gently wrap your fingers around his forearm to ground yourself, but that’s only fuel to the fire, you’re slowly losing control of yourself. “Spence,” you whine when you feel his fingers dip between your folds.

“It’s okay, baby, it’s okay. Listen, we’ll pick a new one tomorrow morning, alright? I have a few candidates,” he coos, as if you had the brain capacity to focus on the plan right now. 

“But–”

He pushes his fingers deeper to silence you. “Shh, just relax. We’ll talk about that tomorrow. For tonight, I have a much better plan. I want to give you something you’ve been begging for lately,” he tells you with a big smile when he looks at you.

Before you can say anything, he pulls his hand away from your pants to put his fingers between his lips to taste your juices that cover them. Only then, when a satisfied gleam appears in his eyes, do you realize what he’s talking about. 

The baby project. 

You don’t even know why you’ve been thinking about this, after all, planning a baby with someone like Spencer isn’t necessarily the wisest idea. But you love him. You want to have a piece of him with you even if something happens to him due to your little hobby.

You’ve been messing with the police, but mostly the BAU, for a while now, testing their limits in every possible way. Who will break first under the pressure? Who will figure it out first? Who will realize the killer’s been one of them all along?

To Spencer, it’s just a game. A game that he desperately wants to win. 

And what’s the end game? He wants to hunt down the members of the BAU, one by one. Each and every one of them, he said once. Which raises the question: are you one of them in his eyes?

[resident-idiot-simp]

Based off of a comic that I swear to God I can't find. Soapghost where I think it is Ghost that slips a ring onto Soap tags and doesn't tell him. Only when someone pointed out to see freak out and ask what kind of proposal was that.

Anyways that but deadclaws courtesy of @shy-canadian-snowflake for starting off this version of the idea and @orcadork4ever for helping

When the tags get thrown to the ground when Logan quits he pauses as he sees the ring. He stares wide eyed before taking the ring off and putting it on. He knows who did it but he's not here right now.

He leaves and when Wade finds the tags he sees the ring gone and smiles.

THEN THEN THEN AFTER EVERYTHING he put the ring on his new tags and where is it. But after the memory wipe half of what he is trying to learn about what happened to him is also about learning with a ring is from.

The idea of rogue when she's in the car looking at his tags and seeing the ring 😭😭😭

Does Jean still try to make moves despite it? What happens what do people think?

"Does it count as cheating if you don't even know who the ring belongs to?" Then Logan getting pissed because he might not know where it belongs. But he sure as hell knows the feeling of love he gets when he looks at it.

What about the other people whispering about how someone could ever marry someone like him

Logan has no idea where the ring came from but somewhere in the recesses of his mind he feels so much love for whoever the ring is from.

He knows whoever gave it to him means the word to his past self so he wouldn't dare taint it

I also imagine this is a similar universe to the other fic where Wade is in the X-Men movies.

So Wade but not origins just ends up our normal Wade. He's probably searching for Logan too

Rogue being so curious about the ring and asking incessantly. In Logan not so secretly hopes it will jog something in his memory.

Out of everything Rogue pities Logan for the ring is the worst one. How horrible it is that something so special to him is lost from his memory. How dare the world take away this obvious source of happiness.

Imagine her finding Logan outside one night crying silently as he clutches at the ring and muttering curses at the world for taking away the love of his life 😭

Rogue demanding Xavier to figure it out because Logan doesn't fucking deserve to be dragged along with the carrot on the stick being his happiness

Od-

Xavier tries to use the essence from the ring but can’t find him because he’s mutated by now and shows up different he tells Logan he can’t find him and they take that to mean he’s dead

He just lives in a haze. Going through day to day. He knows by now that he can’t kill himself anyways, even though he wants to. He’s lived this long in misery before, he can keep doing it.

He hears about Deadpool and goes along with Colossus and NSTW to make sure this guy isn’t a total fuckhead.

Seeing him fight… there’s something so familiar about it. A dancer’s grace, the lethality and deliberateness of his movements.

He watches as Colossus warns him about not taking the life of the man who tortured him. Already knowing it’s a lost cause even not knowing the backstory. Whatever this fucker did, he deserves it.

Snorts to himself when Deadpool just shoots the guy in the head. A snicker cutting off short at the harsh call of “Wade!”

“Wade…?”

This close he can hear him. Hear the constant stream of innuendos and puns. And it comes flooding back. All of it. Nights spent pressed together on a too small cot in the too hot jungle heat. Slipping off to swim in the river. Promises breathed against parted lips of a future and forever.

Dropping to all fours he gallops at Deadpo- at Wade. His Wade, knocking him over and sending the two of them tumbling.

“Whoa! What the fuck?!”

Sobs ripping out of the yellow mass gripping him, a ragged and familiar “Wade!” making him freeze. “L-Lo? Is it really…!”

Logan ripping off his gloves and cowl with tears streaming down his face. “They made me forget. I forgot. I didn’t know who it came from but I still Knew”

Wade watched him in awe, his mask growing wet with his own tears as he reached to hold Logan’s hand with the ring. “You kept it…~”

“Of fucking course I kept it. You gave it to me.”

Me: Logan's face just buried into Wade's scare neck as he sobs and clutches at his back. Wade isn't much better off as he claws at Logan's back in a vain attempt to crawl inside the other man

Wade hesitantly stopping Logan when he goes to take his mask off. “It’s not what you remember, Peanut.”

“Good thing I don’t remember. It’s just you”

Me: the others watch on is stunned silence because this is the most emotion they had seen either man exhibit ever

Vanessa watching from the side and just crying in joy for her friend. She’s his best friend. They fuck around, but they’re friends first. He’s spent many a-night whispering to her about his Logie Bear

Me:

She then devoted herself to trying to help him find Logan but got caught in the crossfire

Logan couldn't be fucking happier. He won't let Wade out of his grasp and doesn't plan to for a long while.

The X-Men can't comprehend it. This was Logan the man who hated people just existing. Why is he now sobbing into a mercenaries neck?

Od:

Colossus being the one Adult insisting that Vanessa come to the mansion to be checked out and make sure she’s okay.

Logan and Wade settled into each other in the back seat of Dopinder’s car with Ness in the front

Me:

"lo lo fuck." Wade mutters as he pulls back to cup Logan's face. Logan just melts into Wade's grapes and he purrs fucking purrs. LOGAN DIDN'T KNOW HE COULD DO THAT!!

"There is the good kitty I have missed so much."

Od: They’re just in each other’s laps, completely tangled together

Logan just purrs harder to the point he coughs and Wade just laughs delightedly and pepper kisses across Logan's face.

Logan's claws sneak out when Wade pulls back slightly and Wade gasps as he grabbed at Logan's hand. "What??? Metal?! What happened baby??"

Logan just blinks stupidly up at him. "I don't remember." Wade frowns and pulls Logan close

Od: “It’ll be okay. We’re okay. Were together. You’re here. Fuck, I missed you so much. There’s so much I have to tell you.”

"it doesn't matter what happened right now. What matters is your here. We can figure out everything else later."

Od: “Exactly. Fuck, Lo. Can I kiss y-“ just getting cut off by Logan pouncing and kissing him senseless, the two of them laying down in the backseat

Rogue is beyond extatic when Logan comes in with wide wonder filled eyes dragging a man behind him. She knew then this was who the ring was tied to and she wasted no time launching herself at him in excitement.

"YOU DID IT YOU DID IT!! LOGAN YOU FOUND YOUR OTHER HALF!"

Logan just hold her close as he cries silently into her hair before yes he did.

Od: “Omg Lo-Lo! You have a kiddo?! I knew you were Daddy material, both ways~ I’m Wade~”

Rogue is definitely surprised by Wade. She must admit she hadn't expected someone like him to be who Logan had tied himself to. However the way they looked at one another and interacted was undeniable

Jean and Scott are LIVID and discussed because really this? THIS?! Was who Logan had chosen all those years ago??

Od: Wade: Wow. Jealous, judgmental, AND prejudiced. Yall are the whole fucking package ain’t ya.

Rouge does not take kindly to them. She had quickly become super protective of Wade. She had quite a few times tore into them for daring mess with what she had worked for for years

Od: Rogue: He wasn’t yours even then. You do not get to shit all over his happiness!

Rouge: have you ever seen him smile like that??? Have you ever heard him purr??? No? I didn't think so. So why are you plotting against him?

(You might get more later but that's it for now)

[cosmerelists]

Cosmere Characters in a Labyrinth

Oh no! Cosmere characters have been trapped inside a labyrinth! Whatever will they do??

[One fairly vague WAT spoiler joke included!]

Kaladin: Relies on pure vibes to guide him through the labyrinth. He may be lost forever.

Shallan: Creates a map in her brain. If only Kaladin were with her, he might survive.

Vin: Walks straight out of the labyrinth, blasting down any walls that stand in the way. Nobody knew you were allowed to do that.

Kenton: Keeps running into dead ends over and over again but keeps going through the power of sheer stubbornness. He will not die before he finds that exit!

Lift: Creates a trail of breadcrumbs to show which corridors she has already been down. This is not intentional. She's just snacking the whole time.

Steris: Walks with her hand always on the leftmost wall. She will escape. Eventually.

Elhokar: Proceeds with utter caution. He knows there are traps around every corner probably.

MeLaan: Is able to stride boldly through the labyrinth, since she fears no traps.

Sixth of the Dusk: No labyrinth is as deadly or as hard to navigate as his home jungles. He's making scratches in the walls to mark his progress, and to be honest, he's feeling a lot more relaxed than usual. This place seems chill.

Renarin: Scales the wall to get a view of the labyrinth from above.

Navani: Is convinced that there is something about this labyrinth--perhaps something alive. She WILL figure it out!

Raboniel: Patiently waits for Navani to uncover the principles of the labyrinth. She has the title "Lady of Twists and Turns" all ready to go.

Tress: Keeps making friends with Labyrinth Creatures who give her tips and tricks to make her way through.

Aseudan: Pretty much decides that the labyrinth is now HER labyrinth and is hard at work turning it into the most decadent labyrinth anyone has ever seen.

Wayne: Closes his eyes. To defeat a labyrinth, one must become the labyrinth.

Mraize: He is a hunter! No labyrinth can trap HIM! (He has his parrot find the way for him.)

Raoden: Keeps finding other lost souls who have given up on ever getting out of the labyrinth and now he has a whole cadre of loyal followers who love him.

Marsh: Finds mysterious markings on the wall, indicating that some people view HIM as the monster that lurks in the labyrinth. He's lowkey pleased by this.

Amaram: Makes a name for himself by getting out of the labyrinth totally on his own and definitely not because he followed someone else out and then had them killed.

Llarimar: Trusts that Lightsong will find the way out. Eventually. Probably.

Lightsong: Is wondering around totally at random (or so he thinks).

Gavilar: Sits at the center of the labyrinth, trying to guess the magic words that will open all the doors and free him. Some say you can still hear his voice...

Yumi: Spends a LONG time in that labyrinth before anyone bothers to tell her that most people do not live their lives inside of a labyrinth.

Dalinar: Just keeps walking. Eventually he'll get out, he's pretty sure.

Adolin: Has already made friends with the horrible beast that lurks at the center of the labyrinth. It's pretty fluffy! He might just stay.

[pixel7777]

The First Worshipper: Ch. 1

The naughty version of the beautiful artwork commissioned from the incredible misfitlunatic (https://x.com/misfit_lunatik or https://bsky.app/profile/misfitlunatik.bsky.social) can be seen in all its glory here.

What if Astarion, grieving and haunted by the passage of time, became the first worshipper of the newly ascended God of Ambition, Gale, in a strange bid for connection, purpose, and perhaps just a little bit of chaos?

Story Completion: This work is fully written (~60K words) and mostly edited. I'll be posting at least 2 times a week, maybe more if the fancy strikes me.

Read below the break here or on AO3!

Work Content Tags: Post-Canon, Vampire Spawn Astarion, God of Ambition Gale, Immortality, Grief, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Happy Endings (despite pretty much everyone dying), Explicit Sexual Content, Dual POV, 1st Person Astarion, 3rd Person Gale, Epistolary

Chapter 1

16 years "After Netherbrain" (AB)

[A letter written in elegant script on expensive parchment, waiting to be burned]

My dearest, most infuriating Tav,

I failed. Our little thief, our Mol—she's gone. Just like that. A knife in the dark, they tell me. Quick and clean, as though that's meant to be a comfort. She didn't suffer, they say. As if that makes it better. As if anything could make this better.

Where are you? You should be here. You should have been here to stop this. To warn her, guide her, protect her—all the things you were always better at than me. Instead, you left us. Left me to fumble through this alone, and look what happened. I didn't keep her safe. I couldn't...

Do you remember how you'd scold me for being overprotective? "Let her spread her wings," you'd say. "She needs to learn." Well, I did. I let her take over the Guild, let her play at being Nine Fingers' successor. I tried to trust in her abilities, just as you would have wanted. And now she's dead.

I should have locked her in that tower like I threatened. Should have forbidden her from the Guild entirely. Should have been the monster everyone already thought I was, if it meant keeping her alive. But I wanted to make you proud. Wanted to prove I could be the father she deserved.

I hate you for dying. I hate myself more for failing her. Our daughter deserved better than both of us—better than a dead hero and an immortal fool who couldn't save her.

The funeral's today. I don't know how to do this without you, Tav. I don't know how to say goodbye to our child alone.

Forever yours, even in my anger,

Astarion

* * *

I adjusted my black silk cravat, adorned with an obnoxiously large amethyst brooch, and swept my cloak back for maximum dramatic effect. The gathered mourners shifted uncomfortably in the grand hall of my estate.

"Friends, enemies, and those of you still unsure which category you fall into—we gather here today to honor our beloved Mol." I raised my arms skyward. "And what better way to commemorate her life than by dedicating it to our newest, most ambitious, and might I add, most absent deity?"

Karlach's jaw dropped. Shadowheart pressed her fingers to her temples.

"Oh great and powerful Gale, God of Ambition and Spectacular Fashion Failures, hear my prayer!" My voice echoed through the hall. "Your first and most devoted worshipper calls upon you to explain why you, in your infinite wisdom, allowed our precious Mol to die in an alley like a common cutpurse!"

"Astarion," Halsin warned, but I waved him off.

"What's wrong, old friend? Too busy rewriting the fabric of reality to notice one small death? Or perhaps you simply didn't care enough to intervene?" I spun in place, addressing the ceiling. "Come now, don't be shy. Surely the God of Ambition has something to say about this tragic waste of potential?"

The air crackled with divine energy, and Gale materialized in a flash of light, his expression thunderous. "This is not appropriate, Astarion."

Wyll muttered something that sounded like "here we go" while Lae'zel leaned forward with obvious interest.

"Isn't it?" I bared my fangs in what might have been a smile. "Then by all means, oh divine one, tell us what would be an appropriate response to your negligence."

Gale gathered his breath, but I wasn't done.  Not by a long shot.

"Oh mighty Gale," I drawled, prowling around him like a cat stalking prey. "Tell me, what offerings should I make to earn your divine intervention? Blood? Gold? My undying devotion?" I gestured to the gathered mourners. "Look at all these potential worshippers. Surely that's worth something."

Gale's divine aura flickered with frustration. "You know that's not how this works. The laws of—"

"The laws?" I laughed, the sound brittle as broken glass. "You're a god. What are laws to you? Or was that whole 'ambition' thing just for show?"

"Astarion—"

"No, no, let me finish my prayer." I dropped into an exaggerated bow. "Most illustrious deity, who watched our Mol grow from a street urchin to the finest thief in Baldur's Gate, who drank the wine she poured at Last Light Inn, who promised to keep an eye on her from on high at at her mother's funeral—where were you when she needed divine intervention?"

"I couldn't interfere." His voice carried the weight of celestial law. "Ao's restrictions—"

"Restrictions?" I spat the word like poison. "The great Gale, bound by restrictions? How disappointing. Perhaps we should find a more competent god to worship."

Divine energy crackled around him. "That's enough."

"Is it? Because I'm just getting started, old friend." I infused the last words with all the venom I'd been saving. "What good is having a personal god if he can't even save one little tiefling?"

"That's not how it works and you know it!" (Don't fucking tell me what I know.)

“You! You took her! And now you owe me, Gale. Personally.”

“I didn’t take Mol! She was mortal, Astarion. Mortality happens. It’s not some divine conspiracy!”

I waved dramatically at the crowd,“Oh, of course, just a coincidence that the only people I care about keep dying while you sit there glowing smugly in your celestial robes!”

Gale took in the crowd listening to all of this, and I gloated at his discomfort. Divine energy crackled around Gale, his celestial aura flaring with genuine anger. "You think I don't understand loss? I gave up everything I was! Everyone I loved looks at me like I'm a stranger wearing their friend's face!"

(Finally. There you are, old friend.)

"Oh, poor Gale," I sneered, circling closer. "Forced to become a god. How tragic." (Make it hurt. Make him feel it.)

"You're not the only one who's lost people, Astarion! You're not the only one who—"

"Do you know what it's like to have centuries stretching ahead of you, and the only thing you can count on is losing everyone? Do you? I stayed in Baldur's Gate for her. I could've left! I should've made them both leave with me! But no. She wanted to be here, and I—" My traitor voice cracked. "I stayed. And now she's gone. So yes, Gale, you owe me. You owe me this, you miserable excuse for a deity."

The divine light around him softened. (Don't. Don't you dare pity me.)

"Astarion." His voice carried centuries of understanding. "I'm here. I've always been here."

"Don't." (Please.)

"I know it's not enough. I know it will never be enough. But I'm not going anywhere."

I laughed, the sound raw and broken. "Until Ao decides you've broken too many rules and strips away your godhood."

"Then I'll be mortal again." He stepped closer, that insufferable compassion in his eyes. "And I'll still be here."

(Damn you, Gale. Damn you for knowing exactly what to say.)

"I hate you," I whispered, but there was no venom left in it.

"I know." He smiled, sad and gentle. "I know. You’re angry. You’re grieving. And, for what it’s worth, I am sorry."

Karlach's pointed cough broke through the tension. Right. We had an audience. How terribly gauche of me, letting genuine emotion slip through.

I smoothed my cravat, collecting myself. "Well. Since you did make the effort to show up, I suppose I can forgive your divine negligence." I waved a dismissive hand. "For now."

"Astarion—"

"On one condition." I raised a finger. "You must try harder at this whole godhood business. It's embarrassing, really. The God of Ambition should be more..." I gestured vaguely at his celestial form. "Ambitious."

Gale's divine aura flickered with what might have been relief. "I'll take that under advisement."

"Excellent!" I turned back to our gathered mourners with renewed theatrical vigor. "Ladies, gentlemen, and assorted creatures of questionable origin—in honor of our dear departed Mol, I hereby announce the founding of the First Church of Gale!"

"You what?" Gale's voice cracked in a most ungodly fashion.

"The Church of Gale," I repeated, savoring each word. "Dedicated to ambition, fashion disasters, and the memory of the finest thief Baldur's Gate has ever known. I think she'd appreciate the irony, don't you? Since it was ambition that took her in the end."

"You can't—"

"Oh, but I can. And I will." I flashed him my most dazzling smile. "After all, what's the point of being your first and most devoted worshipper if I can't cause a little chaos in your name?"

"And so, my darlings," I swept my arm in a grand arc, "let us remember my beloved daughter, my Mol, not as she died, but as she lived—clever, bold, and absolutely insufferable." A few chuckles rippled through the crowd. Good. She would have hated a somber farewell.

"She once told me that respect was overrated, but a good story was forever. So tonight, we'll gather at The Copper Crown—" I paused, savoring (hating) the moment. "Which, as of this morning, is officially mine. A gift from our dear departed troublemaker, who apparently thought it amusing to make me proprietor of a thieves' den."

More laughter now, genuine this time. Even Gale's divine aura flickered with something like approval.

"The first round is on the house," I announced, then added with a sharp smile, "Though I expect you all to drink enough top shelf to make me regret that particular generosity. It's what she would have wanted."

I turned to the ornate coffin, carved with the symbols of Mask that Mol had secretly worshipped. "Rest well, my little thief. Try not to pick too many celestial pockets." (Rob them blind, darling daughter.)

The mourners began filing out, heading toward the bar in the Lower City. I caught Gale's eye. "Don't disappear just yet, darling. You and I aren't finished."

He inclined his head, that infuriating divine patience still radiating from him. "I know."

"Splendid." I turned back to the ornate coffin, my hand brushing against the edge as if touching it could keep her closer for a moment longer. "Rest well, my little thief. The world is poorer without you, but the stars... they’re brighter now."

I straightened, adjusting my cravat as if donning armor. "Come, my darlings," he called to the remaining mourners. "Let us drink, lie, and fight in her memory. She'd want nothing less."

* * *

From within his divine avatar, Gale watched his old companions gather at their usual table in The Copper Crown. He hadn't intended to be here.  His business was no longer with these few friends.  He had a wider scope to learn to manage.  But Astarion was Astarion.

You always did know how to yank my chain.  It seems divinity has not lessened your pull on me.

Ao would not be pleased.  Yet, here he was.

The familiar weight of mortality hung over the mourners like a shroud, despite their attempts at cheer.

Halsin raised his glass. "To Mol."

"To Mol," they echoed.

Karlach leaned into Dammon, her new heart humming steadily. "The forge is doing well. We've been thinking..." She exchanged a look with her husband. "Maybe it's time to fill that empty room upstairs."

Lae'zel scoffed, but her eyes held warmth. "Your offspring will be fierce." She adjusted her armor, battle-worn from the Astral front. "Vlaakith's forces weaken. Soon, all will kneel to Orpheus."

The conversation drifted to the former Shadow-cursed lands.  Now known as Brightbough Vale, Jaheira and Halsin were proud of its prosperity and eager to share the newest developments, but Gale's attention fixed on Astarion. The vampire's fingers traced the outline of a vial in his pocket. His declaration of worship had been classic Astarion theatrics, yet beneath the performance lay raw desperation.

Gale recognized the maneuver for what it was: a challenge, a demand for divine intervention. For divine attention. Astarion was trying to force his hand, to draw him back into mortal affairs when he needed to focus on establishing his godhood.

Still, watching his friend's careful mask slip when he thought no one was looking stirred something in Gale's newly divine heart. Perhaps that was Astarion's real power – the ability to make even a god feel human again.

Gale watched Jaheira lean forward to draw Astarion into the conversation, her weathered hands curled around her cup. "What will you do next, Astarion? You could come to the Vale. We have room, and the children would benefit from your... unique perspective."

Oh, that won't work at all. He'd drive the initiates mad within a week.

Astarion's lips curved into that familiar, deflective smile. "Thank you, but I think I'll stay in the city. The Copper Crown needs attention, and someone has to keep these dregs in line." He gestured at the rowdy tavern crowd.

There it is. The lie wrapped in just enough truth to pass inspection.

Gale observed the subtle tells he'd learned over years of friendship – the way Astarion's fingers drummed against the table, how his gaze slid past direct eye contact a moment too soon.

"Running a tavern?" Jaheira's skepticism matched Gale's own. "That seems... beneath your usual ambitions."

"I'm tired of Patriar politics." Astarion shrugged. "Besides, the Lower City has its charms. More interesting characters, fewer tedious social obligations."

He's planning something. The bar's just a convenient excuse to stay in the city.

Gale wished he could pierce the veil of divinity and pull the answers directly from Astarion's mind, but even gods had their limitations. More than he had realized, if he was honest. He would have to do this the hard way, and it would be hard. Whatever Astarion was plotting, he'd wrap it in layers of half-truths and misdirection.

Just like old times, my friend. Though usually, I could be there to help untangle your schemes.

Gale watched Astarion deftly steer the conversation away from himself.

"Speaking of the Vale, how's that temple coming along, Shadowheart? Still insisting on putting up those gaudy moon symbols?"

Shadowheart's shoulders tensed. "Selûne's symbols are not gaudy."

As the others engaged in the theological debate Astarion had provoked, he caught Gale's attention with a slight tilt of his head toward a quiet corner. He produced a bottle of Baldurian brandy – Gale's old favorite – and poured two glasses.

"Come down here a moment, oh divine one. I have a theological question of my own."

Gale shifted his consciousness to join his friend. Strange, how the physical world felt both more and less real now.

Astarion swirled the amber liquid in his glass. "Tell me something. Would Mol be like Tav? Turning down resurrection?" His voice carried none of its usual artifice. "Because I've tried. With Tav. Multiple times. But she won't..." He knocked back the drink. "Well. You know how she is. Was."

The raw honesty caught Gale off guard. In all their years of friendship, Astarion had never spoken of Tav's death so directly.

Gale weighed his next words carefully. The truth would hurt, but Astarion had earned honesty. "I see more than I used to, but souls... they're complex. Most who find peace resist returning."

"Ah. Annual attempts too frequent then?" Astarion's attempt at levity fell flat. "I should space them out more."

The admission struck Gale silent. He'd watched those desperate rituals from afar, unable to intervene. Each failure had carved new lines of grief into his friend's otherwise ageless face.

"Don't look so shocked. We both know you've been keeping tabs." Astarion's fingers tapped against his glass. "Though I suppose proper worship requires some transparency on my part."

"What are you planning, Astarion?"

"Nothing that requires divine intervention." Astarion refilled their glasses. "For now, could we just... sit? Like we used to?"

The pull of the celestial planes tugged at Gale's consciousness – duties, responsibilities, the weight of divinity demanding his attention. But across from him sat his oldest friend, mask finally lowered, asking for nothing more than company.

Gale settled his divine presence more firmly into the moment. "I suppose the pantheon can wait."

Astarion tilted his glass, a sharp grin cutting across his face. "To making gods wait."

Gale shook his head, a trace of amusement softening his features. "And vampires who never change."

[whateverisbeautiful]

I am so glad you're back and I hope you continue to get better each day!

I wanted to see what you thought Rick would have done if Michonne had actually executed his plan and escaped the CRM in episode 3 and returned home without him. I can't imagine he'd be able to just return to being CRM Rick or as he said, "die all over again" and just let her go without being beside himself with worry about her making it back safely and wondering about her and kids' life back in Alexandria. Curious to know your thoughts! And I am enjoying your posts so much!!!

I appreciate this a lot, thank you! 💖 And really good question. It was tough even imagining a scenario where Michonne goes against her character and actually leaves in ep3. But had she actually gone along with Rick’s getaway plan and gone home, I think, like you said, Rick would have a lot of trouble trying to remain CRM Rick. He’d try for a bit to stay 'dead' and apart from them because he’s convinced that's what’s best and safest. But I think eventually his need to be with Michonne and to know for certain she and their family is safe would overpower his fear that was keeping him away. Especially because I feel like part of why he was even able to decide to die and no longer try to get home in ep1 was because he’d gone so many years apart from Michonne and Judith that he was resolved in assuming they already think he’s gone for good. And he sounds like he found comfort in how being apart meant he could always believe they were alive and hopefully living a good life without him.

But with Michonne coming back into his life and so clearly wanting/needing him with her and still being as in love with him as he is with her, I think he wouldn’t be able to ignore that or deny that forever. Plus, in reuniting with Michonne he went from having her face fade from his memory to holding her in his arms. And so with that all coming back to him so vividly, I think it would reignite something in him that eventually would wake him up to the fact that he and Michonne aren’t better off apart and he can’t really let her leave - not when you're magnets of Richonne’s magnitude. 🧲 So I think in due time after she left, he’d have a renewed drive to escape and get home. But I also think that Rick might not even have to do a solo escape after Michonne left. Because if Michonne did go home when Rick asked, you just know the A in her would have gone home just to rally Daryl and an army if need be to come break Rick out themselves. So either way, I believe Richonne would end up reunited and home together. 👌🏽😌 Thanks for asking and reading my posts!

[hero-israel]

They wanted Gal Godot to present No Other Land the award for Best Feature Documentary strictly as a humiliation ritual. I saw tweet after tweet relishing in the fantasy of her being "forced" to confront "Israel's genocide," as if an Israeli wasn't on stage giving a kapo speech if I ever heard one. By the way, Twitter is ripping him to shreds too, mainly for "centering Israel yet again in a genocide they're perpetrating," proving the "you'll never be good enough" mantra is still 100% correct.

When Gal Godot is not actually on stage to present the award (which was it ever confirmed she was originally going to do it?) they were mad and called her, and I quote "chickenshit." Their interest in this woman somehow deleting her years of media training and, what? Making a spectacle of herself throwing a tantrum? Baffling. More likely, they just wanted to watch a woman be forced into a situation that supposedly would make her uncomfortable and have her be unable to escape that situation. It feels keenly misogynistic but whatever.

I just know, had Gal Godot actually presented them the award, she would've handled it like a professional adult, and Twitter would've vilified her anyway. They'd probably spin some claim that she was there to traumatize poor widdle Palestinian victims, that her presence as an ex-IDF genocidaire babykiller was triggering, that it was a symbolic dominance ritual where an Israeli deigned to hand a Palestinian filmmaker and award. Some bullshit like that.

And again, they're ripping the Israeli filmmaker to shreds because "any Palestinian art/resistance needs an Israeli stamp of approval!" Like, they'll call that ahistorical garbage hasbara because an Israeli was breathing within 100 miles of it. There is no scenario where a Jew can make the right choice. The only contexts where Jews are acceptable is sniveling dhimmi pet or long dead Holocaust victim, and they'll turn on the sniveling dhimmi pet eventually.

On that note....

[apollo41writes]

I am sick but I came up with this idea and I need it out of my brain so I can finally sleep in peace!

So random prompt I guess. A fake/pretend marriage between Sanji and Zoro, but set in a Bridgerton-like world!

I promise it works! Grab a cup of tea and hear me out.

About Zoro:

First of all, Zoro is a trans male AFAB. But because society still sucks the only place where he can be himself is at home with his sister Perona and his adoptive father Dracule.

Plenty of space to add things about Zoro's backstory as well! Even Kuina as the catalyst of Zoro coming out to his family as trans, and the whole drama of her dying and promising that he would shape his life however he wants.

Zoro obviously loves and respects Mihawk because he did save his life and gave him a home and a family when Zoro lost his (yes, Zoro still keeps the Roronoa family name because they are another influential family or something). But Zoro also hates him, because Mihawk forces Zoro to debut in society like a girl, hoping he would find a husband for his "second daughter". Hopefully a husband that will understand that "Azura" is actually Zoro, and that will not cause a scandal when he realizes that it will be Zoro he will be married to.

Zoro also loves Perona, because once Zoro told her that he was a boy and not a girl, Perona immediately respected his wishes and started referring to him as a male. But Zoro still hates that after that he basically was still forced to participate in Perona's fake tea parties or make believe stories, this time as the prince or, when she was in a particularly grim mood (which is quite often) as the evil guy in one of her overdramatic fantastical scenarios. Also, as soon as Mihawk told them that Zoro was gonna debut as a girl with her deadname, Zoro went back to being Perona's favorite doll to dress up before a ball/party in high society.

(Zoro all dolled up and being the angriest looking wallflower ever is just an image that will be stuck in my brain forever.)

About Sanji:

So picture Sanji, the third heir of the (in)famous Vinsmokes and a man that everyone thought was dead, that suddenly pops up out of nowhere and becomes immediately the most talked about bachelor and the dream match for every meddling mama in high society. After all, they see Sanji as an extremely attractive man with perfect manners, which is absurdly galant with women and has the whole mysterious aura that attracts people like flies. Also, you know, there's the Vinsmokes name and fortune for whatever lucky girl manages to marry him and give him a male heir. (Sanji is still Sanji, so he is still gonna melt and simp over every woman. Which just means that after a while he does get the womanizer/pervert reputation.)

There is obviously a lot of gossiping and speculation about Sanji's past, but nobody knows what actually happened. Most people believe the story Judge spins: Sanji had been lost at sea during a storm while they were traveling on a ship, and that he must have washed ashore somewhere far away. That a kind man found him and took him in, but that Sanji had amnesia and didn't remember anything about his family, so he stayed for years with that man. Judge also kind of spins it to his favor that he told everyone that Sanji died because he wanted to spare the pain to his wife, who was already sick. But when his wife was on her dying bed she made him promise to look for their lost son, and Judge did so to honor his wife, that he says died of a broken heart because of Sanji's supposed death. (Sanji is ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED by this narrative, of course.)

The reality is that Judge disowned him when he was in his early teens (like 11 or 12) for some stupid reason like "you are too sensitive" (idunnow, just Judge being Judge), and tried to kill him by making it look like an incident. So Sanji really almost drowned, but he was saved by Zeff that saw the attempted murder, and decided to take Sanji in as his own child. And everything was alright for a while; Sanji travelled around Europe with Zeff, who was a renowned chef that cooked for rich people and even royalty. Years after that, Judge comes to him with blackmail/a threat: he either comes back to the family and find a good influential girl to marry, or Judge is gonna kill Zeff. Reason for this is that Judge considers his daughter as his own servant, and plans to never let her marry anyone not to squander the family money. His other sons are pieces of shit that think women are only good to be fucked and broken, so they refuse to marry because they want to abuse whores, duel people for petty reasons and get drunk all of the time (still pieces of shit, but of little use to Judge for anything other than running the weapon family business empire). And even when Judge tried to force a marriage to get at least one heir, the poor woman was so severely abused that she killed herself three days after the marriage.

Then Judge found out that Sanji was still alive (maybe from a society paper with a portrait and "his protege" after they got invited to cook for the King) and had him spied on for a while to get some leverage to blackmail him into being his obedient "long lost son" and give him a fucking heir.

Sanji loves Zeff way too much to let anything happen to him, and he decides to sacrifice himself. But he's not a child anymore, and while he's still scared of Judge, he still plans to destroy him once and for all, so he can live peacefully and as he pleases. So he will fake compliance, but will find a way not only to save Jeff, but to ruin the Vinsmokes name once and for all. He just has to carefully move through high society while he does that. While also making sure that he doesn't break a poor woman's heart or ruin her reputation.

Here comes the actual "plot". (I know this post is super long already. Sorry not sorry.)

Judge obviously wants a politically and economically convenient match, so he tries to force Sanji to marry Pudding. And while Sanji thinks that Pudding is perfectly lovely, he also doesn't want to marry her on principle, not only because he wants to disobey Judge, but also because he doesn't like Pudding's family and doesn't want to drag her in all of the familial drama. (Plenty of space for the whole Charlotte family bullshit as well, but I'm not gonna delve into it rn.)

Judge obviously has a whole scheme for trapping him in marrying Pudding (and yes, she is a "willing" part of the scheme). Like, one of those almost fake scandals where the two are found out in a compromising situation and are forced to marry not to ruin the family name bullshit. Which would absolutely work with Sanji since he would never hurt Pudding's reputation.

Everything is ruined by Zoro's abysmal sense of direction. While trying to hide from "Azura's suitors"/getting the fuck out of there, he ruins Judge's carefully planned fake misunderstanding by being the one that accidentally falls into Sanji's lap in a "secluded alcove" and is found out by gossip prone mamas in the compromising situation. Judge isn't happy about it, but still agrees to it because of Zoro's own family name and fortune that will become Sanji's, and the reputation of the Dracule himself which can still be useful to Judge.

Zoro doesn't really care for his own reputation, he almost thinks this is just perfect: if he's ruined nobody will want to marry him and he can live as he pleases. But Mihawk makes it plainly clear that if he does that he will ruin any chance for his sister to have a good match. And Perona is a romantic that hopes for a soulmate to have kids and a happy family with, so Zoro sacrifices himself for her sake.

Sanji thinks that this is just perfect. Judge was played by his own scheming! Now, he just needs to deal with his soon to be wife. She doesn't seem to want the marriage at all, so maybe if he explained the situation she would accept a marriage of convenience, and once Judge is finally dealt with, he can get an annulment for the marriage without ruining Azura's reputation.

After Sanji explains, Zoro is elated: he doesn't actually have to be a wife! And he even admits to Sanji about how he is actually a man and would like to be called Zoro. Sanji is obviously a little bit confused at first, but Zoro kind of implies that he will agree to the farcical marriage only if Sanji treats him like a man, so at the end of the day he agrees that at least in private Zoro can be whoever he wants and Sanji won't bother him.

Obviously Sanji gets rid of all the staff Judge picked for the "happy couple"'s new home, and he replaces them with both people that he trusted from his previous life with Jeff and that will never betray him by spilling his secrets to Judge, and with people picked by Dracule Mihawk's staff that already know about the whole "Zoro, not Azura" thing. Judge doesn't like it, but has to compromise because Mihawk insists that the house (the Roronoa estate maybe) and staff are his gift for the happy couple and he won't budge on it. (Zoro asked for it obviously, and Mihawk agreed since Zoro doesn't ever ask for things and he does feel a bit guilty for forcing Zoro into the marriage.)

After that there is obviously the slow burn of Sanji and Zoro actually falling in love with each other, and probably lots of shenanigans with the rest of the Strawhat crew that are members of high society as well. Or part of the staff, don't know... Not gonna do a deep dive on them as well, but they are there and crazy like always.

My brain is stunk on the idea of Sanji and Zoro riding horses together (with Zoro being dumbstruck by how pretty and carefree Sanji is; also lots of bickering because Zoro almost gets lost in a property he's supposed to know better). Sanji and Zoro having a sparring fencing match (and Sanji is both pissed and turned off when he realizes that Zoro is A BEAST when it comes to fighting and he's absolutely a better swordsman than Sanji); Zoro and Sanji getting super drunk after getting home early from a party (everyone thinks they are rushing home because they are still in the "honeymoon" phase, instead Sanji dragged Zoro home because Zoro was about to punch one of Sanji's brothers after they made fun of Sanji & made inappropriate comments on Perona); Zoro insisting that Sanji let him try smoking (and promptly making a fool of himself by choking on the smoke, while also questioning why the smells if smoke has become so comforting when the taste of tobacco sucks so much). Also Sanji cooking for Zoro until he finds out all of Zoro's favorite dishes (and being appalled by Zoro's lack of decorum when eating something he likes). Literally just these two dorks falling in love in the most domestic way.

Of course at first Sanji is still reluctant to let Zoro do manly things, since he struggles to see Azura as anything other than the lovely lady he transforms into for balls and parties. But slowly things start to change and he gets to know Zoro for real and, "Zoro has such terrible manners! How could he be anything but a man?". He obviously has to deal with the whole "does this mean that I am attracted by a man?" thing as well once he realizes that he doesn't mind being married to Zoro. And then he thinks that he doesn't even mind the idea of calling Zoro his husband and not his wife! Wtf is wrong with him?! And on and on with the crisis.

Zoro isn't doing much better because he never thought he could find marriage such a bearable ordeal. Sure, he constantly bickers with Sanji about almost anything, and he doesn't get the whole "women should be cherished" and all. But Sanji is also respectful of his boundaries and not once has he called Zoro by his deadname in private; rather, he almost slipped and used "Zoro" at parties as well multiple times. Zoro also knows that Sanji finds him attractive when he's all dolled up as Azura for whatever high society event they have to attend. But Zoro is not Azura and doesn't want to pretend he is; so will Sanji ever actually love him as a partner, an equal, a man, or will they just split and go their separate ways when they finally deal with Judge?

And in the meantime they still have to find a way to get Zeff to safety and destroy the Vinsmokes (which, Sanji realizes is quite more complicated that he thought at first, since he actually hopes to save his sister somehow after she shows how much she still cares about Sanji; not his brothers tho, they are still assholes).

The rest of the gang obviously helps Zoro and Sanji (lots of trying to actually get them together as well, since they see the love grow between them).

As for the smutty part, they get there eventually. It's for sure more of a slow burn thing compared to the usual Bridgerton vibe.

And that's all I have. I'm gonna go to sleep. Do with this damn thing whatever you want, cause I sure am NOT gonna write this monster.

[inkdrinkerworld]

Bedbugs

cw: in which James notices that your sister only calls you when she’s scared, not your brothers. wc: 500

You’re sitting in James’ lap in the swing on the back porch when you hear your sister scream your name.

“What is it?” You’re flying off James’ lap in a second, him right behind you with a hand on your waist as you race inside.

Your sister comes out of her bedroom frantic, her chest heaving. “There’s a thing in there! I-I saw it on the wall. Can you get it, y/n? Please please?”

You sigh and roll your eyes, out of everyone here, your two brothers and both your boyfriends she calls you.

You’re not really annoyed, you just don’t like them anymore than she does. James kisses your temple softly.

“I’ll get it, angel.”

You kiss James’ jaw as he passes you buy to grab the canister of bug spray and goes to the bedroom.

“You screamed like we were being robbed.” You giggle as she joins you on the swing outside.

The sun is nearly gone, but there’s just enough light out that you can see the waves crashing into the shore.

Your sister only looks a little sheepish. “I hate them, you know that.”

You nod, “You could’ve also called one of the boys.”

She rolls her eyes. You and her have had this debate forever; your brothers lie and say they’ve killed the bug only for you both to get into bed or wherever you were and the bug be right there again and for you to have to get it.

She cuts out the middle man from the get go.

James comes out the bedroom five minutes later, the bug dead between a piece of paper and his hands. “I got it.”

“Thank you Jamiese! You’re a lifesaver! I’ll make you coffee in the morning as thanks.” Your sister sings his praises and James can only flush because she’s such a little sibling that it warms his heart.

“It’s nothing,” he tussles her hair as she passes him to go back to the bedroom, relief in her shoulders.

James finds you on the swing with clean hands and four chocolate digestives.

“Does she always call you?” He asks as he hands two over to you.

You curl right back up to his side, your ear pressed to his pectorals where you hear his heart thumping steadily.

“Always,” you take a bite of the biscuit. “When we were younger our brothers used to pretend to get them and we’d see them and they’d tell us to get it.”

You take another bite. “So you guys just started calling one another.” James fills in softly and you nod with a smile.

“Now I don’t have to do it anymore though, I have you.” You polish off the first biscuit and start the second one.

James chuckles, “Oh, is that why we’re together? Using me for my bug dispelling abilities.”

You nod with a grin, “S’working out for me so far, don’t you think?”

James rolls his eyes, kissing your cheek. “Brat.” Yet it’s said with the most affection ever as you feed James the last bite of your second digestive.

[brainddeadd]

July at the Lake House

The Michigan sun hung low in the sky, casting golden streaks across the rippling lake. Trevor Zegras stood at the edge of the dock, gripping a beer, pretending like he wasn’t completely and utterly screwed.

She was sitting on the boat with Quinn, legs tucked beneath her, laughing at something stupid he said. And Trevor—dumbass that he was—felt it hit him like a slap to the face.

He was in love with Quinn Hughes’ best friend.

He hadn’t meant for it to happen. Hell, he’d spent the first few weeks of summer actively trying to avoid it. Flirting with random girls at the bar, going on wakeboarding runs until his arms felt like jelly, throwing himself into whatever distraction he could find. Because Quinn would kill him if he knew.

Except—Quinn already knew.

And Quinn was fucking sick of it.

“Jesus Christ, man,” Quinn muttered, stepping up beside him. “You’re pathetic.”

Trevor blinked. “What?”

Quinn turned, giving him the most unimpressed stare of all time. “You think I haven’t noticed? You moon over her like some lovesick idiot, and she’s sitting over there waiting for you to do something.”

Trevor’s stomach twisted. “I don’t—”

“Dude.” Quinn ran a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. Then, after a moment, he squared his shoulders and looked Trevor dead in the eye.

“Just ask her out already, fuckhead.”

Trevor stared at him, completely frozen. “You—what?”

Quinn rolled his eyes. “You heard me.” Then he clapped Trevor on the back, like he was sending him off to war. “Do it before she thinks you don’t want her.”

And with that, Quinn walked off, leaving Trevor standing there, heart hammering, stomach flipping—realizing he had absolutely no excuse not to.

Trevor watched Quinn walk off, his words still rattling around in his head. Just ask her out already, fuckhead.

Like it was that easy. Like all Trevor had to do was walk over, tell her how he felt, and she’d throw her arms around his neck, and everything would be perfect.

Except—what if it wasn’t?

What if she didn’t feel the same? What if she laughed? What if Quinn had misread the whole thing, and she was just being friendly this entire time?

A splash from the lake broke his spiraling thoughts. He glanced over to see her wading in the shallows, water up to her thighs, the setting sun turning her hair into liquid gold. She looked over her shoulder and caught him staring.

Shit.

She grinned, tilting her head. “Are you just gonna stand there all night, or are you coming in?”

Trevor swallowed, then—to his own horror—blurted, “I need to talk to you.”

Her brow furrowed slightly, but she nodded, making her way back to the dock. When she climbed up, water dripping from her bare legs, Trevor had to forcibly remind himself to breathe.

“Okay,” she said, standing in front of him, “what’s up?”

Trevor rubbed the back of his neck. His heart was beating out of his chest, but there was no turning back now.

“I like you,” he said, the words rough and unpolished. “Like—really like you.” He let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. “And I wasn’t gonna say anything because of Quinn, but then he just told me to ask you out already, fuckhead, and I don’t know, I figured maybe—”

“You figured maybe I’d say yes?” she interrupted, her lips twitching.

Trevor blinked. “Uh—”

She stepped closer, looking up at him, the dock creaking under their weight. “Took you long enough, Zegras.”

And then, before he could make another dumbass comment, she kissed him.

Trevor barely had time to react before his hands found her waist, pulling her in like he’d been waiting forever. Her lips were warm and tasted like lake water and lemonade, and holy shit—he was kissing Quinn Hughes’ best friend.

And she was kissing him back.

[dualogical]

Godhood was not what he wanted. And even if he did, spending it with someone so fundamentally different (She could never understand him, not when it mattered), he wanted even less.

The understanding came far too late. But every bit of it was hard-earned and fought for, bled for, and yet all he could think of was how he could have done it differently right at the beginning if only he had known all the cards in the deck.

If only, if only.

She wouldn’t let him leave.

She couldn’t.

He knew that now.

At first, he had been ensorcelled inside of Her demanding grip, of that fear and attention and undivided love felt deep to the bone. When any sort of change happens, if there’s nobody around to perceive it, could it be said it happened at all? She needed him to see. To be eyes, a mirror. She didn't know what could happen if he wasn't there to see Her. Better not take the chance.

Even if they were irrevocably torn in two, even if a part of him still yearned to be one. They were still intertwined.

Entangled. He’d been swallowed whole and consumed and hollowed out and filled with the weight of everything. He was trapped at the epicenter - the focal point of the pressure of infinite stares. He was the tether of things so deep and unfathomable that it almost devoured every fiber of his being. He was in the eye of the storm.

He wasn’t even sure She did it on purpose. She did say if he didn’t like Her answers, to not ask questions. So he stayed silent, stewing.

This had been a culmination of a myriad of choices and paths laid out ahead, and he had chosen the wrong one every time. They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions. And for good reason.

He had more in common with his father than he thought.

He knew that. He accepted that.

(He didn’t want to. )

The metaphorical throne he sat upon was carved out of the manipulations of a man long dead into a reality that wasn’t what he wanted, where time shattered beyond repair.

It was something that was now his inheritance. The prince of a ruined world, and of so many others.

There was silence in his head, and loneliness was acrid like bile at the back of his throat. But it was also the last relic that he had to remind himself of humanity, of what he thought he had at least some of.

Tired of being tired. Just the same numbness that had permeated over him ever since he made his choice and woken up. The part of him that had been so angry and wrathful at the start had simply burned itself out - a candle charred by itself. It took along with it his motivation to keep going.

She had been once Many, and now she was One. He had always been One, and there had been Voices with his every step, once. Life, created.

Now, there was only silence.

The glass of his soul shuddered and creaked, but it did not break.

-

Time passed with no meaning.

(There was no such thing as time anymore.)

A Song described itself as endless – a contradiction, an impossibility twisting within itself.

The Silence stewed in his failures and regrets.

Choices were a fickle thing.

A thousand different paths laid out in front of him. Some hidden; others called. The appeal of each varied and sometimes, there was the understanding that there was no choice but to walk that single path, once everything was over, so he trod upon ashes and dust and all the ruins in the world and tried to cling onto the remnants of who he once was.

Ultimately, choices were lies.

A puppet on strings had no choice but to spasm and seize even if it bucked against the threads. A fly trapped in a spider’s web would find itself robbed of choice - there was only the inevitability of what had to come, and it could not be avoided forever. A play in two parts. Maybe three actors, maybe four, maybe five. Delay, pretend, delay.

(The lies he told himself.)

But those lies sometimes became the truth. If he believed in something enough, well-

Before he could convince himself of it, it-

It hurt.

He watched and heard and listened as denial changed to anger that morphed to despair and anguish and finally acceptance - five stages of a human emotion that still crackled like kindling somewhere inside of him.

A part of him stirred.

Through it, through his own devastation and pent-up rage and inconsolable sorrow, That Which Suffering Is Inflicted Upon brought to its knees over the vertices of the abyss, the glass-

The glass shattered.

[ddagent]

"First Impressions"

Matching March Day 02

Before she'd died, Margo Madison was used to spending every waking hour at JSC. She'd given up her apartment to sleep on a cot in her office; dry-cleaned her clothes and ate from the crappy vending machines. Even when she'd been promoted to FIDO, she'd kept living out of her office. The hours would pay off, she'd thought. To be Flight. To run NASA. That never happened, of course. Margo had died in '74, nine long years ago, and she'd watched a string of lesser engineers sit at her post, lead her team, oversee her agency. But JSC had always felt like a home.

A good thing, too, as she was here forever.

She wasn't the only one who was here forever – although at least Aleida Rosales had the option of going home. Margo found her in the Apollo-Soyuz workroom, clock ticking ever closer to midnight, and a punk rock radio station playing low in the corner. Margo watched her, for a moment, happy that she was here. That she'd made it. That the hours that a teenage Aleida had spent being tutored by a dead engineer had paid off. That the impulse to join Margo, her mother, when her world had come crashing down upon her had disappeared.

Looking towards the future – ensuring Aleida had a successful career – Margo cleared her throat. Aleida cursed. "Goddammit, Bill, the VCR broke so I couldn't record Jeopardy, okay?"

"Aleida, it's me."

Aleida poked her head out from the capsule, relief settling into her features. Some of the ghosts at JSC, like Bill Strausser, had turned demanding when they realised they could be seen by a living engineer. The astronauts were even worse. Margo, thankfully, managed to keep them in line. But when it came to demands on the living, Margo's toil was more...emotional than physical. Even after nine years of distance, Aleida still emerged from the capsule as if she was awaiting a reprimand.

Which, to be fair, she was about to get. "Is this under your purview?" Hank had put Aleida on Ops; Margo didn't want to see Aleida's career nosedive because she couldn't stay in her lane.

"No," Aleida smirked. "Not really. But the design team left for The Outpost with nothing. So I thought I'd give it a go." Her smile broadened. "You know, this would be a lot easier with NASA's best engineer."

"No."

"Please."

To her displeasure, it really didn't take much persuading. Margo was bored. After nine years of making calculations and schematics and being ignored by the living, it was a heady rush to have her ideas actually listened to for once. Not that they made much headway. They bounced a few suggestions around, Margo using her ethereal form to explore the capsule in detail. They almost succeeded in one idea but without Soviet tech, they were unable to continue. Aleida retired to one of the desk chairs around two am, drifting off into sleep. Margo continued to work. If she concentrated hard enough, she could just make the pencil move.

She was finalising her design when someone came in. Someone Margo did not recognise. He was in his early forties, with blond hair and a Soviet flag pinned to his suit lapel. He immediately stripped off his jacket and began looking at the design on the table. Her design. The man grinned. "Very impressive."

"It should be."

The man tapped the pencil against his mouth and made a few adjustments. "But if we did this—"

Margo looked over his shoulder. It was an acceptable addition. Except his numbers were off. Margo took the pencil and eased one of the fives into a six. The man dropped his own pencil, blinking hard at the paper. He sighed. "It is too late for this, Sergei."

"Sergei." Margo took him in while he worked. He was studious, dedicated to his calculations with a ferocity that Margo believed was only matched in herself. He was handsome, too, in a way that left her unsettled. She'd had a whole life and a whole afterlife to not find anyone attractive. She didn't see the need for it now. But then he smiled and Margo felt herself smiling back. "Sergei."

Across the workroom, Aleida stirred. "Margo?" Her eyes settled on the unaccompanied Soviet poring over their designs. "Hey."

They then engaged in the polite pleasantries of two people from opposite sides who had been caught in a room they weren't supposed to be in at a time that was considered ungodly by most in the continental United States. Margo lost interest, intent was she in adjusting Sergei's design. It was nearly perfect, all it took was just one little—

"—you see this too, yes?"

Margo paused. She hadn't realised the conversation had dwindled, and Sergei's attention had returned to the designs. The designs where a pencil hovered in midair. Aleida's eyes had widened in alarm, but she quickly recovered. Just laughed, shrugged. "That's Margo. She's one of the ghosts at JSC."

He wouldn't believe her. No one ever did. Not Octavio, not Molly, not— "Margo." For a second, his eyeline matched hers perfectly. He was staring into thin air but she was staring right back at him. "Your work is...impressive."

"Oh." If Margo still had working circulation, she would have blushed. "Thank you."

Aleida rubbed her face. "She says thank you." Then, she grinned, apparently seeing an opportunity to mess with her mentor. "And that you're pretty cute for a living guy."

Margo's mouth fell open. But Sergei just smiled, laughed, and said: "Well, please tell her she is truly brilliant for a dead woman."

And so, over one long, long night, Apollo-Soyuz became a collaboration not only between the US and the Soviet Union, but also between the living, and the dead.

[silverview]

i thought i'd do a self-indulgent little roundup post about my birthday, so i can look back on it someday and get emo about how lovely it was :')

concludes with my s/f report from the thursday evening show, all spoilers clearly marked!!

on the day itself i got some amazing gift fics from @donotbelasagne, @batatadulce9 & @kookaburrito (in order of posting), which was completely unexpected & wonderful 💕💕 if you like freaky rpf then you probably know where to find them! AND...

kooka also sent me this reece locket and this AMAZING lazoo doll which. i actually started yelling when i opened it & saw what it was. LOOK AT HIM. LOOK AT MY HORRID BABY

this is why i had to post the stitchup showdown opening, to at least provide context if not an explanation for my love for him 💗

my bf got me some amazing presents too, and we saw stage/fright – his 1st time, my 5th. details about the show further down, but first...!!

💕 REECE HUGGED ME!! 💕 and wished me happy birthday!!! 💕 he is the absolute sweetest and i just... yeah no words. i have rewatched the video of it a million times already. i was wearing heels so it was a biiit of a stretch for him to reach 🙈

i think this confirms he's not on ao3 lol because when i said "it's my birthday!" he didn't go pale and say "YOU! >:O"

on friday i had the best day with the lovely @spcvarney 💗 & we did a tour of the wyndham's!! she posted about this already, but the staff told us that reece has been claiming to feel ghosts touching his shoulder & stuff in the theatre 👻 of course he has

supposedly he had the same experience back in 2005 when he did as you like it there. no wonder he seems so happy there. they said that the alleged ghost has a history of reacting badly to swearing, and especially to the word cunt. 🫢

they let us go onstage, which was amazing. they asked us not to take photos of the stage/fright set & props. so of course i didn't. :) it really is an amazingly beautiful place

yesterday was my birthday party & it was rlly nice to see my family & friends, including some wonderful in9 fans, and i had the BEST time nerding out with them in person 💗 @wintersoulwitch managed to come by IN BETWEEN the evening & matinee s/f performances which was actual legend behaviour, & their varney tshirt was easily a highlight of the whole experience

at the party itself i found out that i didn't just pass my january exams (the ones that made me wish i was dead), i actually nailed them 😭😭

@mifhortunach came a long way for the party & i can't say how exciting that was 🥹❤️ we've been friends for the longest time & every time we hang out irl i have so much fun. they were the one who introduced me to in9 in the first place, so that was a nice full circle moment 😅

today i was so wrecked that i slept all morning & only woke up in time to see them off. it has been a very... VERY intense three days & this post can't possibly capture it all but yeah, these are just some highlights

i feel really lucky. i love my friends, including the ones not mentioned here & the ones who don't know that i think of them as friends. idk how i come across on here, or in person. i'm not someone who has never been deeply lonely & shy & insecure. being in this fandom is one of the strangest & loveliest things that's ever happened to me, because the people are amazing. sometimes i think about how it won't last forever, but that's okay, i'll enjoy it for as long as it lasts

my time gets stretched pretty thin. i'm never on here as much as i'd like to be, & i usually don't reply to people as fast as i'd like to. a lot of in9 fans are in the uk, so my nocturnal habits are pretty antisocial. thanks for being kind to me & patient with me :')

⚠️ stage/fright spoilers beyond this point!!! ⚠️

thursday eve was a GREAT performance!! the audio is mostly me + my bf cackling with joy. the audience were well up for it. really enthusiastic, laughing a lot. the whole play felt looser and more energetic than usual, everyone in the cast was clearly vibing

reece especially – marcus was sassier and more over-the-top than usual, and he corpsed a bunch during kidnappers, covering his mouth with his hand. on "i know how to answer the phone" he did a little jig for no reason and then burst out laughing at himself

speaking of kidnappers, the guest was julian clary (jewel ink lairy) and he was FANTASTIC, so so funny. he called s&r "heterosexual cunts" & i think the looks on their faces can best be described as delighted astonishment

i should point out that my straight, non-fandom, comedy writer bf feels that the "pudgy & homosexual" line IS most likely a reference to s&r themselves 💁🏻‍♀️

hugo's gloves were among the props left out onstage. plus the ghost light, gramophone, creepy jars, and trepanning chair from that segment. and the hare (we think it was The Hare)

the boys skipped some fairly important dialogue in their last scene: the reference to bcdr and the explanation as to why the song was cut. not sure what happened but i think reece just fastforwarded a bit by mistake. it still worked and it was still absolutely perfect. ❤️

i had happy tears in my eyes all through the song. reece was audibly belting it out and clearly having the time of his absolute life.

when miranda hennessy came out of the stage door, there was a huge cheer from a group of women across the alley who yelled "we know her!" she ran over to them & they all hugged & laughed & they said how proud they were :')))

[hig4nb4na-2]

Afterlife (Starscream x OC)

TW: This fanfic is short and the Dark Realm is inspired by the Underworld. Requiem is my Transformers OC and she came from era of Primes. This art is drew by me.

Starscream: "Where am I?"

Starscream opened his blue optics and he saw the place is dark and unsettling. He gets up from the ground. He heard the screams. He looked around until he saw the bots was being tortured by executioners. The ghosts and small Cybertronian spiders are lingering around the dark place. The candles has been lit by blue fire. Suddenly, the ancient spider goddess bot has approached him from behind.

???: "Finally you died, Starscream."

Starscream was flabbergasted to see her. He didn't know why she was at the dark place. He recognized the ancient design on her frame.

Starscream: "You! You must be Requiem, right?! The daughter of Onyx Prime?!"

Requiem: "I didn't expect you recognized me as an ancient Cybertronian. That's correct, I am the daughter of Onyx Prime and known as Witch of Darkness."

Starscream: "Why I am alive in this dark place?! Tell me, witch!"

Requiem: "You were in the afterlife of Cybertron where your lost spark has entered into this hellish place. Welcome to the Dark Realm, the place where the bots has been died from the battlefield."

Starscream: "Dark Realm...?"

He looked around the Dark Realm. It's clear that place is unsettling for deceased bots and full of tormentors. The deceased bots are moaning in despair when they were being tortured. The swarm of Cybertronian spiders are eating them alive. Starscream clenching his fist as he felt regret for suicidal in front of Optimus and Megatron.

Starscream: "Is there any way to come back to Earth or Cybertron?"

Requiem: "No. It's futile to get out of this dark place after you died. You will remain in Dark Realm forever. You cannot make a scheme against me, Starscream."

Starscream gritted his dentas as he felt frustrated.

Starscream: "Why? Why you won't let me to get out of this place?"

Requiem: "Since I met you at Earth, I watched you in the entire year. You always thinking about your objective to overthrow Megatron, right? To become a new leader of Decepticons. But now... You will be mine, Starscream. You can't able to lead your fellow Decepticons when you're dead."

She pushed him into ground and sat on the top of him. She leans to his faceplate. Starscream was utterly flustered when he's looking at her beautiful pale faceplate.

Starscream: "Get off me!"

Requiem: "No. You're too precious to let you go from the surface. You will remain here forever."

He could feel her breath was attached to his audio sensors. He gulped, he tried to struggle himself to get out from her grasps but Starscream has been immobilized by her spell. Requiem chuckled softly.

Requiem: "You're so funny when you're struggling. Will you accept this, Starscream? I'm sure you will endure it."

Starscream: "Tch. Fine!"

She smiled as she satisfied hear to his approval. Starscream's blue optics are widened when Requiem kissed his cheek. His faceplate has turned blue blush.

Starscream: "What are you doing, old hag?!"

Requiem: "Old hag? My, you insulted me."

She smiled at him. Starscream feels frustrated with Requiem. He ended up remaining in the Dark Realm forever. Requiem's minions are strict, they can watch the deceased bots if they will escape from the Dark Realm.