#and I spent a good while thinking in if I could justify keeping her alive

[shiawasekai]

Time for Camellia... I have the time so may as well cross another companion off the list.

Now that's one that brings a lot of complicated feelings.

First and foremost, Nela didn't mind the bloodthirstiness. She knew, it was obvious, but she didn't care. She isn't an idiot and, even if most of her knowledge previous to the game about the Crusades was theoretical (and painfully outdated), it didn't take her long to understand people like Camellia are very much a necessity in the Crusades. You can't fill an army only with lofty ideals, treating it as a requisite is stupid.

She may also have a personal beef with pushing ideals on people. Just saying.

Their relationship was still much colder than with other companions, and Nela kept it mostly at a professional level. Nela is Andoren, so nobility is out of the question, but she spent a significant part of her life being fairly poor. Camellia's obvious disdain for those below her station was much more of a real problem to her.

Still, she was doing her part. Nela wasn't going to let her personal discomfort get in the way of work.

That's it until the Act 3 quest happens.

What then happened wasn't motivated by morality or her own personal feelings. Camellia was useful in theory, yes, but she stopped to be so when enemy corpses weren't enough to keep her satisfied. An asset out of control isn't an asset, it's a liability. Common soldiers and such were no less valuable to her.

She couldn't trust Camellia to be upfront with her anymore, and she couldn't afford to spend the kind of resources necessary to keep watch over her. Besides, for starters, who was going to be able to keep Camellia in check when if she kept her mythic powers? Most if not all guards she could assign to control her would be easy prey.

Besides, feeding blood to a crazed spirit was definitely not tracking as a logical and productive course of action either.

So she had her killed.

[scientia-rex]

Read some more of Toxic Parents tonight and wow!!!! the amount of anger I have!!! and the incredible unwillingness I have to actually remember my childhood and feel associated feelings!!!!! Like, there are events I keep telling over like talismans, because these are the events that prove I'm not crazy. These are things that happened that should never have happened. The time Dad kicked the door in is the biggest one. The time I spent twelve straight hours cowering in the far back of our station wagon with my fingers jammed in my ears so I wouldn't hear my father screaming at my mother and my mother sobbing as we drove to a different state. The time I told my mother I had gotten accepted to graduate school and her first words were, "How are you going to pay for it?" instead of "Congratulations" or "I'm proud of you."

But these aren't all of it. They're so far from all of it. One memory I have is not of the presence of abuse, but the sudden, bewildering absence of it: my sister drove me to the nearest town with a mall, an hour and a half away. We were stopping to pick up snacks for the drive back, I think at a Safeway. I picked up a box of Golden Grahams cereal and nervously asked my sister if I could have it. She said, "Of course you can, you know what you want." In the limbus of a childhood spent being told I was picking the wrong soda for myself when I gave my order at fast food restaurants, suddenly being told I could have what I wanted T-boned me emotionally. It was like running into a wall I hadn't known was there. What? I can just want things? I can just get things and have them because I want them? I don't have to justify it, or lie, or hide what I want? No one is going to tell me I'm stupid for wanting something or that I'll regret it?

Just an incessant drip-drip-drip of emotional abuse, sometimes punctuated by a flash flood. "If I leave your mother, how do you think you're going to eat? You're going to end up on the street."

And now, reading the section on how children end up feeling about the passive parents who enable abuse, I just think, oh, there's me! There's me. I hated her and pitied her and loved her and wanted more for her. I didn't have the adult emotional capacity to understand how much of her life she was complicit in, but damningly, I did vaguely, tangentially understand that she was constantly making excuses for Dad--coming to my bedroom to sit on my bed and tell me, while crying, that he was sorry, while he never apologized. Making it my job to comfort her. I said to her once that I remember, "If he was really sorry, he'd stop doing this," and she just looked at me with something that looked like sorrow but I could tell was rage--she was angry at me for not forgiving him and letting us snap right back into the "good" phase between angry outbursts, where we could, for however long it lasted, pretend to be a normal family.

And how she always resented me. She resented that I was separate from her, she resented that I could do and see and understand things she couldn't, she was angry when I went into Psychology, even angrier when I went into medicine. She's been throttling down her anger at Dad for as long as I've been alive, pretending to be malleable, having vague health complaints and maladies mixed in among the real ones, forever retiring to her bed with a washcloth over her eyes instead of interacting with me.

And now that I'm an adult, and not just an adult but a middle-aged doctor, why don't I call? Why do I insist on bringing up the past? Why do I expect Dad to apologize? I'm hurting his feelings, after all.

The past. Sure. When I graduated from medical school, he named the worst doctor we ever met and said, "He went to medical school, too. Don't get a big head."

And when we were talking, once, not long ago, maybe two years or so, about how he used to stand there and yell at us--I can't remember any of the words anymore, just the way he looked, the tone of his voice, the experience like being buffeted by a strong wind--he said, "At least your sister fought back. You just stood there and took it."

I can't imagine a clearer illustration that he doesn't actually regret his behavior. He doesn't regret his actions. He still feels justified. We were disappointments, we were failures, we weren't him, we weren't what he wanted for us, and more than that, we were convenient targets for his rage. You can do almost anything to your children and get away with it. And he didn't hit us, so it was okay, and the fact that we were hurt by the actions he took with the intent to hurt us means that we were weak. And it's okay to hurt the weak.

Christ! This is the man who, in a fit of sullen self-pity, when I gave him a mug that said "World's #1 Dad" for Father's Day when I was probably eight or nine, talked about how we both know that's not true. As if a child is your therapist. As if it were my responsibility to reassure him.

My mother has read Toxic Parents. My mother has read Why Does He Do That? She has a bachelor's and most of a master's in psychology. She has an IQ of 150. She is a bad mother. It feels like the worst judgment you can make, a bad mother. It feels worse than calling someone a bad father. Because we expect less from fathers. But a bad mother is unnatural.

But lots and lots and lots of mothers are bad at being mothers. And I love mine and I hate her, and I'm angry and I'll always be angry, and I'll die angry, and I have to try to carve what happiness I can from a world I entered into under false pretenses. I was always told I was wanted. I knew I wasn't. I may have been intentional, but I wasn't wanted.

My mother's mother just died last week. I didn't know her. She chose not to know us. I hadn't seen her since I was twenty-two and graduated from college. My mother is struggling with her relationship with her mother. She often tells me her mother was a narcissist. I want to ask her what she thinks she is. She's not a narcissist, but she's an enabler, she's a doormat, she's a classic case of codependency, and I don't think she sees it that way. I always got the sense she was just waiting for us to grow up and go away so she and Dad could go back to being happily miserable alone together.

I asked her, this last year, if she'd read Why Does He Do That? and she said she had, and she asked me carefully why I was thinking about it, waiting for me to confess to her that my husband of ten years was abusive. She's been gunning for this relationship since the beginning--I'd been with him for maybe a year when she mailed me a copy of He's Just Not That Into You (or maybe it was the sequel, It's Called a Breakup Because it's Broken) along with an article on how to date as a single older woman. I was 23. She was flabbergasted when I said I thought Dad was abusive. Denied it immediately. I listed examples and she didn't even say words, just made simultaneously pained and exasperated noises.

She wants me to be single and a career failure and pathetic so she can feel good about herself in comparison. Dad thinks he wants me to be like him, but if I actually behaved like he does, I think he finally would belt me.

I had to hide everything good in me from them so they wouldn't deliberately ruin it. I couldn't tell them about my writing. The first time I finished writing a novel I told Mom and she didn't even acknowledge it, just told me to do the dishes. I was sixteen. I can't tell them what I love about my husband because it would be like speaking to them in a foreign language. They think it's a performance, like their performance, and they're always waiting for me to slip up and reveal the misery they're sure is lurking just underneath.

I've done well. They don't own me. I wish I had real parents, but I'm going to try not to shop for oranges at the hardware store anymore.

[gwenllian-in-the-abbey]

I don’t know if I’m reaching here or not but when people say “Oh team black won because they’re bloodline continued” I can’t help but think of the fact that because of all the incest technically the greens blood did continue because Rhaenyra and the green siblings came from the same father and the king after Aegon was his nephew/cousin?? Like yeah they didn’t directly descend from them but this family is all about keeping it in the family so…

I think the discourse over who truly won the Dance is kind of silly, and the bloodlines argument is the silliest part of all.

No one "won" the Dance. Sure Rhaenyra and Daemon's bloodline continued but that's a pyrrhic victory at best. Aegon III spent the rest of his childhood isolated and miserable, his wishes disregarded by a power-hungry regency, and as king he was known forever as "Dragonsbane," because dragons-- which he hated-- died out during his reign. He did his best as king, but he was a deeply troubled man. Viserys II was raised in exile, married to a much older woman as a twelve year old, became a father at thirteen, and his children were absolute disasters, throwing the realm into decades of war. Neither of them make any attempt to rehabilitate Rhaenyra's legacy and she does not go down in history as Rhaenyra I, something they could have done for her posthumously, but didn't. If you asked Aegon III whether it was all worth it or not, I think there's a good chance he would rather have had his family alive and whole with his mother having accepted terms granting her Dragonstone, than this "victory" that put him on a throne he never asked for in the first place.

As for the long term, by the time the main series rolls around the Targaryens have been deposed and there's almost zero chance of a dynastic restoration. Daenerys is the last confirmed trueborn Targaryen alive, and while she has hatched her three dragons, it was only necessary to bring the dragons back because the Dance killed off all the dragons in the first place. The Targaryens doomed themselves trying to bring about a "prince that was promised," a prince that would not have been needed if they hadn't doomed themselves in the first place. That's the irony, the self-fulfilling prophesy of it all.

Overall, I think "who won" discourse really misses the point of the Dance. Wars of succession are ultimately terrible for the realm. My opinion about which side was "justified" is ultimately based which side I believe could have backed down with fewer long and short term repercussions, but regardless, a war over who sits the throne is unnecessary, and this one in particular was a disaster for both sides.

[artsy-hobbitses]

Hello!

I know there was a lot questions about Sideswipe and Strongarm( I adore these sillies) but I would love to know how their engagement went?

There's war goin on so they have to be relativly serious but do they wait till the end of an conflict? Who was more nervous? And most inportant how Sunny reacted?

Thank you!❤

And tell me  That we belong together And dress it up with the trappings of love I'll be captivated I'll hang from your lips Instead of the gallows of heartache that hang from above

At the point of time Sides and Strongarm realised that they love each other enough to want to spend a lifetime of good-natured bickering, surprise cuddles and stealing kisses during sparring sessions together, Shockwave has kind of fucked up and awoken what’s been dubbed as UNICRON in redacted government files, so y’know, there’s literally much, MUCH bigger things to be nervous about. 

But they do have a talk about it, about them, because there is a chance one or both of them will not come back from this, and this could be the end of whatever story they’re penning together. 

They might have to close that book and start a new one after the dust settles, and they’re frontliners who have to be pragmatic about it. It’s the nature of their job, they’ve known that since day one taking up that Autobot badge. 

It starts innocently enough, just post-fieldwork thank-god-you’re-back-alive snuggles and silly questions about where they saw themselves if the war was never here to take their minds off the creeping dread of having to face down whatever it is that Shockwave has wrought upon them, because by now it’s been a decade and it’s hard to think about a time before the war or imagine a life after it some days. 

But Sideswipe can imagine it now, more vividly than ever, and he shares his thoughts with Strongarm, who asks him in a half-hearted joking manner if he’s gonna stop pulling her leg because through all of what he’s saying, it’s not just him— it’s “we”, it’s twisted sheets and listening to the rain at 2am over sweet nothings, it’s sleep-in mornings (imagine being able to wake up at 10am again IMAGINE) and puppy snuggles (he knows she’s always wanted a German Shepherd of her own but can’t justify getting a puppy in their current circumstances) and breakfasts at a cozy little table set for two (no more mess hall rush!), and stolen kisses before they leave for some mundane-ass totally normal day job where possible death isn’t on the agenda every time they clock in that punch card, and they can come home to a little piece of bliss that’s all their own and all that matters.

Sideswipe, 100% serious, makes a promise to her that if they make it out of this, it’ll be the first thing he asks her because ten years is more than long enough to decide that he wants the rest of whatever life he’s got left to be spent with her… but if he doesn’t—listen, if he doesn’t—he wants her to move on, find happiness in a better world with someone else because he loves her too much to have her be hung up over him, over pages left unwritten which will never be completed.

Strongarm calls him out again for having literally THE worst timing for these relationship milestones but reluctantly agrees, as long as he remembers this promise and does his best to come back to her because she’s gotten too use to having him as a sparring partner, and finding a new one is more hassle than she’s willing to deal with. (Note that Sideswipe at this point has said he loves her a couple of times, but she’s never really said it back. She’ll usually respond with ‘ditto’, reasoning that he clearly knows how she feels about him)

It’s a promise Sideswipe almost doesn’t get to keep—the ensuing battle nearly kills him (And would have, had it not been for Ratchet’s skills being temporarily boosted by his association with Alchemist Prime) and while he’s (barely) alive, he’s lost his dominant arm, has critical internal injuries and is in a two month-long coma.

Strongarm is a constant by his bedside (she and Sunny take shifts  making sure he doesn’t code and helping with daily therapy to limit his muscle atrophy—it’s around this time that their relationship improves markedly), and while she does try to keep things chipper and talks to him about how the war’s ended, the rebuilding efforts and all the super normal things they get to do now, one night the melancholy and despair sets in and she’s quietly pleading for him to wake up, because she can’t do this.

She thought she could be pragmatic about it, whole soldier’s coda of hope for the best and  prepare for the worst, but she’s not prepared to close their book, she’s not prepared to move on and be happy, and she’s so mad at him for insinuating that was even a possibility without him around. Because she doesn’t want to find someone else. It’s you, it’s always been you; For all the times she knew it killed you a little inside whenever life made you second-best to anything that mattered to you, there had never been anyone else for her from the day you answered her call while she laid dying in that alley and summarily made yourself the No.1 Prick of her heart. 

The next day, quite miraculously, he opens his eyes but is still non-responsive to stimuli.  Ratchet does gently try to temper Strongarm’s surging hopes for a full recovery with situational realism that it’s possible that he won’t be the same/won’t remember certain things and will need rehabilitation to re-learn how to function.

It’s clear however, through his blips of consciousness, that he’s struggling to communicate something between the more rapid blinking and finger twitches, and First Aid decides to get Wheeljack to rig up a little device to help him pick/tap out letters.

Sideswipe is still nonverbal and there’s no guarantee he can even figure out letters yet in his currrent state, but the first thing he manages to spell out is a very garbled “MRAYR EM?” and he slowly—but deliberately—winks at Strongarm.

And Strongarm—always stoic and professional with everyone else—just fucking openly bawls like she’s never bawled before, so much that it initially alarms Sunstreaker and First Aid, but she doesn’t care that it makes her like a madwoman for a hot second before they figure out what exactly Sides was trying to say that provoked this reaction.

Because—she’s laughing through messy, snotty sobs now—you remembered your promise, you remembered, and even when you’re busted to fuck and back and can’t spell for shit it’s the first thing you wanted her to hear, because you have the worst timing on earth and she loves you for it. 

She loves you, she loves you Sergio Saverio, she loves you for the stubborn, foolhardy, courageous, passionate hot mess that you are, she loves you, and the answer is Yes. 

His recovery is gradual and steady (That moment immediately improved Ratchet’s initially prognosis for him, because it showed that his memory was functional and his major neural pathways were still mostly connected), and she’s there every step of the way—it’s poetic bookends to the start of their relationship, when she took the leap of faith in trusting him and he tossed aside any misgivings he had about being involved with her to help save her life and heal from an injury which she was similarly told she wouldn’t fully recover from. 

Their engagement is over the period of a year, as his condition improves bit by bit (there are some things that are permanent—his reflexes/reaction times are shot, he can barely wield his sword, and getting used to his new prosthetic arm is a struggle especially given his circumstances, all of which make him feel even more self-conscious as an ex-soldier, but Strongarm and Sunstreaker both assure him that he’s still their Sideswipe, he’s still whole even if he can’t fight like he used to, and this world which he helped save is one where he never has to fight a day more in his life) and they’re taking this time together to finally do things ‘right’ and make up for his horrible timing as he likes to jest; going on fluffy dates, making a real home together, meeting the parents.

They also BOTH get rings for each other (Sideswipe goes to HotRod, Strongarm goes to Swerve, both who are ELATED to be able to craft non-weapons and keep the secret) and try to re-propose to each other ‘properly’ at the same time, which ends up with both of them bending the knee at the same time for each other over laughter because THE DRIFT IS TOO STRONG and also, who needs proper when this is more fun?

Sunstreaker’s the one who actually helped Sideswipe source a sapphire for the ring intended for Strongarm (he’s still got connections!), and after seeing his brother’s recovery and how Strongarm was there every step of the way, concurs that he was wrong—she’s exactly the right one for Sideswipe, and he’s genuinely never been happier that his baby brother, who’d been starved of love as a child and had always dreamed of a loving family because of that, finally has a chance at it. 

[chaotic-super]

For Her Sake - Chapter 9

Read For Her Sake on AO3 here!

Since Lena accidentally fell into her lap, Kara has been able to finally relax a little, the tension broken in that one silly moment.

There’s no more awkwardness or uncertainty in their movements, both women are now significantly more relaxed knowing that they can laugh off anything that happens for the rest of the night.

Lena’s on her third glass of wine while Kara is just pouring her fourth, gently placing the rest of the bottle on the coffee table for when Lena wants her next refill. “My god, this is good stuff. “

“Probably, I can’t really tell the difference with wines.”

“What do you mean?”

“I could drink a seven-dollar bottle of wine just as quickly as a seven-thousand bottle of wine. I can’t taste the difference. It’s just wet and helps me relax.”

Kara snickers under her breath. “That’s what she said.”

Lena’s mouth drops open. “Did you just…? Oh god. Oh my god.” She breaks down into giggles fuelled by her relaxed wine brain.

Kara can’t keep her own laughter at bay. Her joke wasn’t that funny to begin with but with Lena cackling away, it suddenly feels like she should win an award for how funny it is and now she’s practically rolling on the couch in laughter.

“I can’t believe you just said that,” Lena grins at Kara over the top of her wine glass.

“Honestly, I can’t either.” Kara smiles back at her. “I think it’s obvious I don’t drink much that I’m this affected by a few glasses.”

Lena’s eyes soften from their previous rambunctious, joyous gleam. “I don’t think that’s a bad thing, it’s more of an issue if it’s the other way around. I’ve been trying to cut back on my drinking for years but haven’t had too much luck with it.”

“Why?” Kara tilts her head as she asks it, curiosity getting the better of her.

“Why do I drink so much or why haven’t I been able to cut back?”

“Both.”

Lena lets out a harsh sigh, one from the bottom of her chest where she stores away her darkest feelings. “I guess there’s no simple answer to either of those questions. There are a lot of factors that play into it and a lot more excuses as to why I allow myself to justify each and every one of those factors and how I let them have a hold over me.”

“We don’t have to talk about it if you aren’t comfortable doing so, you know? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable for the sake of me and my nosiness.” Kara’s voice is soft and light as she gives Lena an out.

Lena shakes her head. “No, I’m alright, truly.” She takes a stuttering breath. “I started drinking as soon as my parents sent me to boarding school at seventeen, it started as my way to rebel against them and the overwhelming pressure they put on me to be the perfect daughter. After a while, it was just a way to cope, usually with the loneliness at the end of the day. My family are not good people, they backstab and lie and destroy anything that gets in their way. Nobody would dare be in my life because of that, even when I was just a teenager trying to make my way in the world, innocent of the actions of my family.”

“I had no idea, I’m sorry.” Kara knows what it’s like to have disappointment in the actions of her family. She’s felt it before, she’s lived it. “You don’t have much contact with them now, do you?”

“No, not anymore.” Lena’s lips curve into a sad smile. “Not much anyway, only that which I can’t avoid. It doesn’t mean that I don’t feel the effects of their actions though. To this day, if I want to be able to sleep at night I have to pay reparations to the victims of their deluded plans and backstabbing tendencies, my life is spent trying to get investors to trust me when they have already been screwed over by either my brother or mother in the past. Hell, some of them remember the shady things my father did back when he was alive too. The emotional weight of that is much worse than the physical effort I have to put into it. Sometimes, the only way I can let go of it is to have a drink or two at the end of the day.”

Kara nods slowly. “I might not fully understand it all, I don’t think anyone can unless they have lived through what you have, but I do get it as much as someone looking from the outside in can get it.”

Lena’s lips press together tightly, her emotions bubbling up and making her want to cry, something she’s desperate not to do. She already just dumped a load of her emotional baggage at Kara’s feet with no real explanation for why she did that. She never talks about any of this stuff so she’s not sure why she told Kara. “I appreciate that.

“Do you want to stop drinking?”

“Yes and no,” Lena answers honestly. “I have maybe two drinks every day. I know that it’s not a massive amount in the grand scheme of things but I would probably drink more if I wasn’t so tired that I fall asleep after those two, and that scares me. I don’t want to be dependent on anything, especially not alcohol. That’s what killed my father.”

Kara’s not sure if she’s overstepping and that makes her nervous. “Have you taken steps to try and quit or is that the hurdle you’re working on?”

“I’m scared to try.” The admission sits heavy in the air.

Kara leans over to put her glass on the table and scoots closer to where Lena’s curled up on the other side of the couch. She doesn’t say a word. She just slowly and tentatively wraps her arms around the brunette that is keeping her hands clenched into tight fists to stop them from shaking.

Lena tenses under the gentle embrace at first but she doesn’t pull away so Kara just keeps holding her, her touch light and comforting, pressing just enough that Lena can feel her presence but not so much that it stops her from being able to pull away at the first sign of Lena being uncomfortable.

The sign never comes though and they end up entwined in that embrace for several minutes, Kara only pulling back when the tension in her back from the way she’s hunched over to hug Lena becomes too much. She parts with a squeeze of Lena’s arm and a tiny smile.

As she settles back into her seat on the other side of the couch and grabs her glass again, she notices a slight red flush on Lena’s cheeks.

“Thank you, Kara. I needed that.”

“Hugs can’t solve every problem, but they start the process quite nicely.” Kara murmurs. “It’s ok to be afraid.”

“I’ll have to face my fears at some point,” Lena says, her shoulders dropping in resignation. “I might as well try now. I guess I’m just scared that without the drinks, I’ll just end up sitting in here alone and sad, I don’t really like the places my brain can go to under those circumstances.”

Kara’s heart rate skyrockets, panic making her eyes widen a fraction. “Lena, do you think about hurting yourself?”

The silence that follows is thick and smothering. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

“I think about hurting my brother.”

“Oh.” Kara lets go of her panic.

Lena avoids Kara’s eyes, her gaze pinned on the window looking out over the city. “I don’t want to be a person that is fuelled by hate and revenge. Then I would be no better than my family, I would truly be one of them, a Luthor by nature as well as by name.”

“I’m suddenly realizing that my assumptions of you weren’t only misguided when we first met but that I was assuming things of you that I don’t think you could be guilty of doing if you tried.”

“What do you mean?”

Kara rejoices in the moment as Lena’s eyes meet hers again, the colour of which intrigue her to no end, the way they are green but take on a blueish tint in certain lights making her want to stare and stare and stare.

“I thought you were a heartless bitch, for the lack of a nicer term. I saw you as just another corporate asshole that only cares about making money and doesn’t care about anyone else or how much they are screwing them over. I don’t think you could hurt a fly and I certainly don’t think that you’re a heartless bitch now.”

Lena looks a little taken aback by the blunt words of Kara’s truth. “Oh, I didn’t realize I come off that way.”

“It’s not your model of corporate America that put that stereotype on every business owner. I’ve just never known anything about you so I grouped you under the umbrella of every other CEO that I’ve never met but heard terrible things about. I’m sorry for putting that stereotype on you, you didn’t deserve that.”  

Lena doesn’t really know how to respond to that because having someone actually be understanding and nice to her isn’t something that happens often and so she’s not particularly versed in the art of dealing with it when it happens or accepting it for what it is, selfless kindness.

She does the only thing she can think of, she leans into humour to get her out of what she sees to be a sticky situation, praying for the topic to change now. She might have been comfortable with talking about it earlier but she’s quickly growing more and more desperate to talk about something else, anything else.

“When you talk like that, I can almost forget you tried to kidnap me.” She says it with a smile and a little chuckle but Kara’s face drops and her heart sinks with it. The joke did not land.

Kara looks down in shame and embarrassment. She always felt guilty about what she did but there’s also always been a part of her that justified her actions, the part of her telling her that she was just doing what was best for her daughter and pushing away what trauma she caused Lena because Lori is her priority and that’s that. She’s ashamed that it’s taken Lena not only to help her but also for her to spend time with Lena and to talk to her properly to finally see her for who she is: a person. A person she neglected to treat as such.

“Lena, I can never apologize enough for what I did, or for the things I said to you that night. I excused everything I did and I even told you that I’d do it again given the chance. I was wrong to do that and I can’t even begin to make it up to you. I really am sorry.” Kara can’t bring herself to look at Lena. She can’t bring herself to look at her face and see the pain that Lena must be feeling be evident on her face.

Lena instantly feels guilty for her joke. She was trying to bring the mood up but instead ended up bringing it down and making Kara feel bad too, that wasn’t her goal and tonight was meant to be relaxing. Instead, it’s just been the pair of them trading a bunch of sad words while they sit on her couch that she’s used less than a dozen times since she bought it since she usually just hangs out in the kitchen in the hour she’s home before heading to bed.

“You don’t have to apologize, Kara.”

“That’s not true. I do have to apologize, I never acknowledged the trauma I was willing to put you through just to get ahead, instead, I made excuses and expected you to just accept them, all the while telling you that you’re the one with bad morals. It was really shitty of me.”

“I don’t think you’re shitty. I just think you’re a mother and to be a good one, sometimes you have to do selfish things. I don’t fault you, Kara. In fact, I really admire that about you.”

Kara shakes her head. “You shouldn’t. I tried to do something horrible to you.”

“Can I ask you a question?” Lena doesn’t let Kara continue on apologizing for something that she honestly would just rather forget about.

Kara nods.

“Are you here tonight because you feel guilty about what you tried to do, what you were lured into doing while in a vulnerable position yourself, or are you here because you want to be and we actually get along quite well?”

“Obviously the second one. I do think you’re kind of…ok.” Kara blushes, thinking back to her conversation with Alex when she admitted just an hour or two ago that she might have the tiniest of crushes on the CEO in front of her and trying to downplay it in her response. Instantly regretting her choice of adjective when she hears what her brain came up with.

Lena tries to suppress her smile. “Kind of ok?”

Kara shrugs, now bashful, “Anyone that can make my shy daughter fall asleep cuddled into their side gets that praise, everyone else is just meh.”

“Oh, so it’s high praise indeed?” Lena smiles toothily, happy to be reminded of the moment she woke up with Lori tucked into her, it was a moment that panicked her initially but makes her swoon to think about. She’s never really imagined herself a mother, never thought she could do a good enough job, but having a child tucked into her and feeling the way her little hands clutched at her clothes to keep her close made her long for it nonetheless, a yearning she’s never felt before.

“Most definitely.” Kara grins back at her.

“In that case, I should thank you…I think.” Lena looks over at Kara, amused and can’t help but let her eyes trace over her body, looking away quickly when she reaches Kara’s eyes again and realizes that she’s been caught.

After a moment, she dares to look back over at Kara again, only to find her now looking down at her phone. She types away a few times and a frown is now sat firmly on her brow. Lena panics, did she just make Kara so uncomfortable that she’s trying to find an exit strategy?

“Ms Grant is going to kill me tomorrow,” Kara says after a long minute.

“Why’s that?”

“I was meant to catch up on some work tonight, mostly scheduling stuff, I’ll probably be able to get a lot of it done if I head into work early enough tomorrow though so I’ll only get glared at for like, two days instead of a full week.” Kara shrugs.

Lena finds herself sporting a frown that matches the one that Kara was just displaying. “Did I drag you out when you were busy?”

Kara’s head is shaking in an instant. “No, no, it’s fine. It’s work that I should be paid overtime for anyway but always seems to go missing off my paycheque until I spend a week disputing it so it just saves me several hours of a headache in going through that again. I’ve been looking for a new job for months anyway, I’m just hoping that something will come by sooner or later.”

“They don’t pay you overtime?”

“They try not to, I end up having to fight with payroll every month because I always do extra hours they conveniently forget about and HR is kind of terrible at handling any of this stuff and they say that it must just be a mistake. There’s only a handful of people that go over their contracted hours so they just don’t pay us unless we fight them on it. They know that none of us make enough money for a lawyer to fight them so they don’t care too much about it.”

Lena looks stunned. “I had no idea there’s so much corruption in CatCo. Cat always seemed to be a pretty fair woman, I really didn’t expect this from her.”

Kara half-shrugs. “It’s not really Ms Grant, I know she’d fix it if I brought it up to her but she’s helped me quite a lot over the few years I’ve worked there, she’s been a real mentor to me in ways I didn’t know I needed and she’d be disappointed if I just ran to her every time I have a problem, I should be able to handle it myself.”

“I think you’re wrong about that, Kara. I think you should tell her what’s going on because there are people in her company that are putting her business at risk of being sued for wage theft, this isn’t something you can handle on your own and I get you don’t want to seem weak or unable to handle yourself but this is something you really need to talk to her about. It’s something I’d want my assistant to talk to me about.”

Kara stares down at her lap, contemplating her options and taking in Lena’s advice. “I suppose you’re right. I just can’t afford to lose my job over this. I’ve heard far too many horror stories about people getting fired for standing up for themselves like this and I have Lori to think of. I’ve always been able to get the money I’m owed eventually so I’ve never pushed it. I guess with Alex working now, I can afford to take the risk a little more.”

“Well, I think you should tell Cat and if any retaliation happens, I have a great lawyer on retainer I have no issues sending to back you up.” Lena finishes her glass and leans over to grab the bottle to refill it. She pauses as she started tipping the bottle, not letting any of the wine pour out of it. “Maybe it’s time we both take a leap of faith.”

She puts the bottle down and pushes the glass away.

“That sounds like a good idea.” Kara puts her glass down too, still half full. “I’m all about solidarity. Want to talk about something lighter now? We’ve kind of just fallen into a lot of heavy topics that kind of make my brain hurt.”

“That sounds amazing actually, want to watch something before we get you a cab home so you can get to work to handle your shit early tomorrow?”

“Yes, please, distract me from the upcoming storm,” Kara puffs out a breath to calm her a little, her heart racing from the very prospect of standing up for herself tomorrow.

-

A hand on Kara’s shoulder shakes her awake, startling her for a moment and making her flinch against her pillow. Her pillow that’s moving. Her pillow that is warm and tense beneath her face.

She forces her eyes open, half sitting up so she can see what’s wrong with the pillow she’s resting on.

Oh.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.” Kara’s eyes flit down to the thighs Kara just had her face resting on and unwinds her arms from around them, keenly aware of how she was practically holding Lena prisoner before.

Lena laughs quietly, looking down at her with a softness that Kara previously didn’t believe that a CEO could feel. “Don’t worry about it. The movie just finished and I didn’t have the heart to wake you up before that.”

“It’s a good job I’d already seen that movie a bunch of times before then, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m not surprised you fell asleep though, you looked exhausted.”

“Uh…thanks?”

Lena rushes to correct herself. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that in a bad way, just that you looked a little tired.”

“None taken.” Kara laughs, rubbing at her eyes. “I am pretty tired. I should probably head home.”

Lena nods, a little sadly. “Right, I’ll order you an Uber.”

“You sure?”

“I invited you, I’ll make sure you get home safe, it’s only fair.”

“Thanks for having me, Lena. I really enjoyed tonight, and as heavy as some of our conversations were, I think they really helped put things into perspective for me, so thank you for that as well.”

The corners of Lena’s mouth turn up. “Thanks for listening to my rich person problems too.” She wiggles her eyebrows as she says it, making Kara laugh.

“We should do this again.”

“We should.”

-

Kara walks to her desk nervously, her purse clutched in her hands as she moves, trying not to psych herself out too much and trying to trust in Lena’s advice. She’s right, she’s got to fix this issue, not just for herself, but for the other people that could be missing out on money they have earned and deserve.

She drops her purse beneath her desk, sets aside the coffees she picked up on the way here and opens up her laptop, ready to distract herself with scheduling. She managed to get some of it done while eating her cereal with a cup of coffee this morning so she’s actually achieved more than she thought she would but there is still a little more to do.

“Kiera!” Kara’s blood runs cold as she hears Ms Grant’s voice from across the bullpen.

She races to her feet, grabs her tablet and pulls up the schedules she’s already completed. “Good morning, Ms Grant.”

“My office.”

Ms Grant walks right past her, or rather, struts. She delicately lowers herself into her chair behind her big, fancy desk and plonks her glasses on the end of her nose. “Kiera, where’s my coffee?”

Kara rushes back to her desk to get the coffees she forgot to pick up before she followed her boss into her office. “Sorry, Ms Grant, here you go.”

Cat takes it grumpily. “Please tell me the scheduling is done.”

“Most of it, Ms Grant, I have three days’ worth of schedules completed and I’m working on getting the rest finished now,” Kara says, her voice slightly timid, especially so in the wake of Ms Grant’s looming glare.

“I’m sure I pay you enough for the scheduling to be done, Kiera.” Ms Grant stares at her over the top of her black-framed glasses, her eyes piercing into Kara harshly.

Kara fights the urge to fidget beneath that look. “Um, Ms Grant, that’s actually something I need to talk to you about.”

“Kiera, do you seriously think now is the time to be asking for a pay rise? Right after you just informed me that you haven’t completed the work you were assigned?”

“Ms Grant, I’m not asking for a pay rise. There’s something else.”

“Well, spit it out then.” Cat slams her glasses off her face and onto the desk, frustrated not only by the conversation but by the pile of folders sitting on the corner of her desk that taunt her because she knows how much work she’s got to do. “I don’t have all day.”

Kara clears her throat. “For the past five months, I’ve had to dispute every single one of my paycheques because none of my overtime hours are being reimbursed unless I fight for them. I believe this is happening to quite a few people too.”

“Excuse me?”

“At first I thought it was just a mistake but as time went on and it kept happening, it became more obvious that it’s being done purposefully.” Kara further explains, her eyes pinned on Cat’s desk because she’s afraid to meet her eyes.

Kara only dares to look up when she sees Cat throw her face into her hands in frustration out of her peripheral vision. “What the fuck do those idiots think they’re playing at?” Cat storms to her feet and marches right past Kara, leaving her standing there awkwardly with Ms Grant now out of the room.

After a hesitant moment, Kara decides to follow her and quickly speed-walks in the direction of the payroll and HR floor, aware that Ms Grant is probably headed there.

She catches up with her just as she’s storming out of the elevator and she wobbles on her short heels from how quickly she just raced down the stairs.

“Ms Grant—”

She’s ignored, Cat’s eyes filled with fire as she storms into the office of the head of payroll.

“What in the fuck do you think you’re doing?” The door slams against the wall as she flings it open, startling the balding man sitting at his desk wearing a suit that is just way too big for his squirrelly stature.

He jumps to his feet. “Ms Grant, how can I help you?”

“Tell me, Mr Johnson, since when is corporate wage theft an acceptable practice?”

“I—I, never Ms Grant, it’s not…um—”

“No, it’s not, and yet here I am being informed that you’re withholding overtime pay from employees unless they put in a dispute. Tell me, how many employees don’t dispute their incorrect wages? How much money are you saving CatCo while ripping off the employees working hard for the company? How much money are you A) saving the company to try and get a bigger bonus, or B) directing into your own pocket directly from the employee’s paycheques, one of those employees being my very own assistant?”

He stutters and a noticeable sheen of sweat is beginning to coat his pale face. He swipes at his forehead with his sleeve. “Ms Grant, I believe there’s been some kind of misunderstanding.”

“I don’t believe so. I’m calling a meeting with HR immediately and if you aren’t there, I can more than assume that the accusations are true.” She turns on her heel and strides across the floor to the head of HR, knocking quickly and entering before she can be invited in. “I need a meeting immediately, make time for it, it starts in ten minutes.” With that, she turns on her heel once more and heads back for her elevator, dragging Kara with her with a soft grip on her wrist.

“Is there anything you need me to do, Ms Grant?” She asks.

“Cancel my meetings for today, I have a feeling that this is going to take a while. “Also, please, get hold of everyone you know to have had the same issue as you and inform them that they may be called into an impromptu meeting today and if they aren’t, the situation is still getting investigated.”

“Of course, Ms Grant.”

“And Kara?”

Kara is alarmed at the use of her actual name, something that really doesn’t happen very often. “Yes, Ms Grant.”

“You did the right thing coming to me with this, I just wish you had done so sooner.”

Kara ducks her head. She should have known Cat would handle it, she might be demanding and rude but she’s always been relatively fair when it comes to keeping her employees happy. “Sorry, I took so long, I thought I could handle it myself. It took me a while to realize it was becoming a pattern.”

Cat looks up at her, head tilted in confusion. “You’ve always been so good at noticing things, Kara, what’s happening that you’re so distracted?”

Kara sighs. “The meeting is soon, we better get you your coffee and then you can head back down there, I’ll go talk to the others. Maybe we can talk later when there’s more time? It’s a long story.”

“Ok.” Cat accepts her answer, maybe because of the time crunch or maybe because she can sense that Kara needs more time to think before she talks about what’s going on, either way, she dismisses it and instead gets back to focusing on the problem at hand, the weasel stealing money from employees.

Kara’s grateful that she doesn’t push. She doesn’t actually want to tell Cat anything about her personal life, especially not what she’s been going through the past few months, not the money issues, not Mike’s death, not Alex’s injuries and not about suddenly being a single mom. Cat already knows about Lori. Well, she knows she exists but that’s about it really, that’s all she needed to know. She’s only ever seen one picture of her, the one on Kara’s desk.

Kara’s not going to be able to avoid the conversation forever though, she’s going to have to come clean about her personal life and about the struggles she’s gone through, she just doesn’t want pity or guilt to change anything in her professional life, there have already been enough changes in her personal life and she would much prefer to have no sympathy and keep the consistency of her work life the same.

Cat breaks off to go and get her coffee while Kara sets off around the bullpen to find the other few people she knows have had their paycheques messed with and asks them to spread the word to anyone else that has had the same issues as them so they can be prepared and also makes a list of the names of the people she finds in case Ms Grant needs it.

It takes her a little while to do that, reschedule Ms Grant’s day and to also gossip with Winn about what’s going on because he’s nosy and with everything, he does for her to help out with Lori, what’s a little office gossip between friends?

She knocks on the door to the HR meeting room, tablet in hand and her list of names atop of it. Every head in the room turns to look at her but she pays them no mind, so forces herself not to, she just walks over to the head of the table where Cat has settled and pulls up a chair nearby, not at the table, just against the wall behind her, dropping the list of names on the table just to Ms Grant’s left before taking a seat, looking out at the table.

The head of HR stands just as she sits. “Ms Grant, this is a private matter, I don’t believe we should have your assistant in the—”

“Ms Danvers is welcome to stay, this may be a private matter but she’s directly involved and has basically all of the knowledge of the situation. That and I want her here so if you try and screw over the employees that were victims of Mr Johnson’s scheming and your either inadequacy or your partnership with him, I’m as of yet unsure of which it is, you will have to do it to the face of a woman who has suffered at your hands.” Ms Grant speaks up.

The head of HR, an older woman with a short grey bob that makes her look like she should be working in a library, and if she was a book, would be a leatherbound journal pulled from the depths of a pirate’s shipwreck, soggy and unreadable but was once probably quite beautiful, sits back down without a word.

“Now, we are going to go over a list of the known victims we have, but keep in mind, there’s probably a lot more here. It appears that we should also thank Ms Danvers for noting the positions of each of these people, people who all hold what can be viewed as no power in the company, easy victims.” Ms Grant goes on to read out the entire list, around thirty people when all is said and done.

Even Kara wasn’t aware that there were that many people that were preyed upon in the same way she was, as she was asking around she was having more and more people pointed out to her, people that had spoken to others that knew someone. In the end, she had to make sure to tell everyone to get the word out that people are to let her know if they have had issues so she can add to the list as the word spreads.

It's probably not great for the company that it’s spreading around the office like wildfire but this is a situation where the victims need to be helped and well, nobody specifically told Kara that she had to keep it a secret so she just…didn’t.”

She doesn’t regret it either.

-

The day is long, longer than any has felt in a while but it’s worth it when at the end of the day she gets to text Lena and thank her for the confidence boost she needed to bring her issues up to Ms Grant.

She sends a brief message explaining that she told Ms Grant this morning and is shocked when not five minutes later, she gets an incoming call.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Kara. I just saw your message, I’m so glad you went ahead and brought it up, I take it that the conversation went well?”

“You could say that.” Kara smiles into her phone as she makes her way to the bus stop on her way home. “I told her first thing this morning and we have spent all day with HR and the guy in charge of payroll trying to figure out what’s been going on. We ended up finding out the head of payroll and the head of HR are sleeping together and worked together to steal money from any employees that didn’t dispute their paycheques to pay for their divorce lawyers so they can divorce their spouses and be together.”

There’s a silence on the other end of the phone for a second before a disbelieving laugh rings clear as day down the line. “Are you being serious?”

“Yes, and that’s not even the best part. The dude in charge of payroll has just turned thirty-two and the head of HR is fifty-seven, that is, my friend, a twenty-five-year age gap.”

“Oh my god! And everyone involved is getting their money back?”

Kara nods despite being on the phone and gets a weird look as she waits for the bus to pull up, climbing on as soon as the doors open and showing her bus pass. “Yep, everyone will but they are doing an investigation first, one that will take a few weeks because they want to be thorough. Anyway, none of it would have happened if you hadn’t convinced me to talk to Ms Grant so thank you, Lena.”

“Not at all, I’m just glad it worked out for you. I have to get back to work but if I get a chance later I will text you and maybe you can fill me in on the details?”

“Sounds good.” Kara smiles. “Talk to you later.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”  Kara ends the call, a smile on her face as she does so and looks forward to getting home so she can hug her daughter and fill Alex in on her day, not forgetting that she also has to catch her up on her night with Lena too. They are going to have a good gossip session tonight and then tomorrow, she gets to go back to work while being in Ms Grant’s good graces for bringing the payroll issue to her attention.

There’s only one thing she’s got to deal with. She might have got away without telling Cat about her personal problems today but she’s not likely to avoid it tomorrow, she’s only got one night to figure out what she’s going to say to her.  

Read the next 3 chapters ahead of the curve on Patreon here!

[themarvelhorse]

2022 Year in Review

How should I look at the stars tonight?

The Weather Station’s song (above) gave me something to think about for the New Year. A celebration justifiably, or is it really something to mourn, given how we treat how the past year has gone, and we always hope the next year will be kinder?

I’m going to do a relatively short review, a summary, in the hopes that I can try to settle on what I’ve done, what’s happened, and what needs to be done. Also try to work on my ability to not ramble.

This year I:

Held a constituency meeting with my MP about divesting from fossil fuels

Went to more local climate group meetings

Helped my mom move into her new apartment and as well as help with some health issues

Got got a contract in my field for the longest period of time I’ve had a job at a single place

Did some outreach and engagement for my local democracy group as a founding member

Had a presentation for some kids at a local school about environment and the election

Came up with so many new ideas for future projects I’d like to see done

Spent time in downtown Toronto to get a taste of true city life

Completed another school (micro)-certificate

Helped coordinate a couple climate events

Sewed some small holes in some shirts

Maintained enough of an exercise routine that I haven’t lost significant progress on (as I have in the past)

Realized I have a mild case of ADD

Tried keeping in contact with friends and family

And what has that resulted in?

The constituency meeting wasn’t a directly personal win, but 8 months later there was another push to divest away from international fossil fuel projects. 3 months later, Canada made that commitment advocates asked for

Tried to help get signatures for community support for climate action locally but well... we barely made progress on our goals. It did highlight an issue we’re asking another local institution for help on though

Municipal outreach helped fill a gap and people really appreciated what we were trying to do, but its hard to tell if we made a dent in engagement. It didn’t matter much either way, since failing the provincial election led to the current provincial government eroding democratic processes at the provincial and municipal level alike.

Provincial democratic outreach came out to a loss - provincially, only 17% of eligible voters voted for the party in power. Which has led to so many more problems. I went to two different ridings for voter engagement one turned out fine but the other, not so much

The job was good! Learned a whole lot, and my co-workers assured me that everyone who does this job goes on to do great things. It just ended the other day, so onto new paths ahead.

Was inspired by the micro-certificate and how to help change at the grassroots level

I’m picking up more on repairing, sharing, and reusing old things, and trying to do that more and more. Small steps in living a more sustainable life

I’m doing better at understanding myself, where my problems are that need improvement and how I can address them

I got more time with my family at least, even if some of my closest family  seem to be declining in health overall.

Unfortunately, a lot of those things that could facilitate me doing better are the things I do not have access to. I realize the good causes, the struggle, it connects back to this, but the great catch is that both can worsen health.

I talked to my doctor. She told me she would not be retiring for at least another year. She’s already delayed her retirement by a year. She told me there’s too many people who need help. I think she's one of those people, and she was going to retire because of the toll it took on her health. I talked to another doctor about my mom’s health. He told me that while we both tried our best, there wasn’t really much hope because there was no one else out there in the province to provide the medical help she needs. (She’s alive and high functioning right now). You're screwed if you try to look for a new G.P. The hospitals are screwed. There’s very little out there to support anyone getting better in this province. All because Premier Doug Ford decided to screw everyone else over (not only in health, but in so many more sectors essential to human life)

I swear to god, this world will break my heart~

I swear, it already has.

But what has been planted? And what has sprouted?

A guidance doc that was used exclusively for years that I led has now been publicly released and my name is among the list of authors

Youth I’ve spoken to might just believe in their future now (I've planted a seed that would not have been planted otherwise)

Our local democracy group has people wanting more of it! People want things like this!

Ford’s fucked up and corrupt and people know this, people have mobilized to stop him. Some of it has worked, some may take more time.

It’s not obvious, but talking with your elected reps and advocacy works

Knowledge - I’m more knowledgeable about my field and the work, and the conditions of my family members than I was before. Could I do it better if I was given a second chance? I certainly hope so. I think there will be a second chance.

But how many second chances can we get before the damage is too great? If we plant seeds and they sprout, only to have a big bully come in and trample it, dig it up and toss it in the trash, and plow the ground with salt?

So, how should I look at the stars tonight?

I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter. People come to me for help or advice for some reason, that's not just something, that's a lot. I hope I can guide them to what they need.

And even if they don't, I'll still do what I can, where I can. I’ll still draw inspiration from those who are fighting harder than me, and others who light up life with their goodness, simply by being who they are. For those kids that ask me what they can do, if we can actually survive what’s coming. I always tell them what I believe in my heart to be true. We can do it. We just need to have the will. Its very hard to have any will to do even the bare minimum we need to do to survive in this world though, I know.

This year has shown me that there's a lot we don't see, we don't know, we may never know. Its hard to know or believe our vote will count, if our protests make change, if a single act of kindness is even appreciated by a stranger. But it's worth trying. Nothing to really be proud of except that you tried. Even if all you try to do is make it another day. Speaking as someone who's been shown kindness and has tried to spread that kindness and give hope, you never know who your kindness might reach, and what wonderful things that person might do.

So I will continue on as I always do, with spite and hope - one in each hand. One for defiance and one for love.

Or what your evilness and corruption might do. Who it might harm. I will not go gentle into that good night.

All the best to you good people this New Year.

[boltedfruit]

So you don't think Joel is a bad person for being selfish? Like is choosing person you love more than the world bad?

I don't think he's a bad person. He's a father who feels immense guilt for not being able to keep his daughter safe, then spent the next two decades keeping his brother and Tess safe, two areas he believes (and did) fail at again. He believes he is a bad person. And from the perspective in the game/show, he's justified. But if we followed Kathleen, we'd of course feel sympathy for her despite the terrible things she's done. He's capable of, and used to, inflicting brutality on others to get the job done, and it's been eating at him for years. He's not the patriot his brother is, and he doesn't trust the Fireflies. He doesn't believe the world is worth saving, it's just something to survive. But then Ellie is put into his care and he's forced to face all he's done, something he probably hasn't done since he and his brother split up in any thorough or meaningful way. Ellie brings out the good in him. She becomes his child and that fear he's been trying so hard to bury and not feel for so long is at the forefront. It's a world filled with death, corruption, and greed, and he's been a part of some of it, but not the worst of it (FEDRA, the Fireflies). He's tortured and murdered and raided but he's no David. And in the show I think it's important we see him take over for a woman when she can't dispose of the infected child’s body because he can and will do the hard things because he can, and to spare others (even if he's not even aware he's doing it). He protected that woman the same way he protected Tess by going with her to meet Bill and Frank (because she wanted a contact sure, but she wanted friends too), the same way he protected Sam and Henry despite his hate and distrust for FEDRA collaborators. The show does a fantastic job of expanding what he know about Joel and others’ lives, namely changing Bill and Frank to give them a MUCH happier ending than the game, without compromising what makes each character themselves. Joel believes he's a monster but he believes he can protect Ellie from monsters. That includes keeping from her the fact he essentially robbed the world of a potential cure, what she believes is her only purpose for being alive and having to suffer through losing Riley, surviving David, and having to kill. He's protecting her from the world, and from the truth of himself, while staying with her like she pleaded with him to.

Now the end of the game/show. He and Marlene are very similar. But where Marlene gave him the freedom to leave with his life and leave Ellie behind, I'm sure if he was in her place he would have killed her to ensure the surgery would never be compromised. My one issue with the entire story is that the Fireflies thought (desperation to save the world aside) that a vaccine could be made just like that. You need to prove immunity, which they did. You need to take samples (not just dissect the brain first thing), but phlebotomy and bone marrow samples aren't very cinematic. You need to test on animals, which they of course didn't have readily available, so they would have to test on humans. They would have to prove it works, otherwise why would Marlene feel confident in distributing it to anyone else? ALSO while FEDRA is almost totally nationally hated and mistrusted, for good reason, the Fireflies are largely seen as a terrorist group. Both sides have supporters and dissenters, but with FEDRA’s resources against the incredibly spread thin Marlene’s, who has a habit of being easily and critically injured, and historically makes bad deals and hires essentially mercenaries like Tess and Joel to ferry her priority asset cross country, how would she realistically safely manufacture and distribute enough vaccine to quell the infection? Even if she has a few people in every FEDRA zone armed with a blowdart and a syringe to administer it to random people, I don't see how a majority would accept a believed terrorist organization to come with open arms offering the cure for what destroyed the world. We've already seen it's on sight for known Fireflies. They're executed in public. Those executioners are not going to readily clasp arms with those they execute. Did Ellie need to die to create a vaccine? Maybe. But did she need to die to gain a single sample? No.

Was Joel thinking about any of that when he realized Ellie was going to die any minute? No. He just knew he had to save her, because he loves her and he knows she needs him (likely less than he needs her).

So I believe Joel is selfish, but not an inherently bad person. Using that logic, you could say Ellie is bad for cleaving David into mush and leaving Sam to turn, or that she's selfish for asking Joel to take her to the university instead of Tommy, because she loves and trusts Joel. They are deeply flawed but not evil.

Would Ellie have gone along with Marlene if Marlene was honest about what they were doing and what that meant for Ellie’s life? I think so. Is it bioethically moral to lie to a child about what creating a miracle vaccine meant? No.

And I think it's important they don't ignore the cycle of vengeance and its pitfalls. Someone hurts Kathleen’s people, she hunts them down and destroys them until she is destroyed. Someone hurts Joel’s people, he hurts them. And then you get the second game.

I don't think he's bad, but choices have consequences. I think he's doing what anyone does in a survival situation, you hold onto and protect who you love with everything you have. His world is Ellie.

[scatcrccio]

WHERE TO EVEN FUCKING BEGIN, BECOMES THE PRIMARY BASIS of her overwhelming psyche. She's had a long time to prepare and yet, here she is, standing in the middle of a dilemma she herself doesn't quite know how to fully process or work through because she's spent the last year ignoring all of the underlining factors that made it all too real. Facing Van now, shit… it was hard, because she knows the redhead before her has every right to be more pissed than they're even letting on, but it still leaves Natalie flinching at every minor move. Everything she says doesn't seem to help and why would it?

There was literally nothing she could say in this moment that would make any of this okay and she knows that to be true. Guilt, shame and a slight hinge of regret become prominent. But that regret isn't for what she's done, necessarily. She doesn't regret that in full, because it's what kept her alive and yeah, it was ironic considering the fact that she had wanted to die initially. Her mouth once again forms into a thin line, scrunching between her teeth as she glances down towards the floor for a brief moment and her entire body tenses. Natalie Scatorccio was supposed to remain dead and never come back, this whole scenario had never been part of the plan in fact, Misty was very much against the idea when Nat initially suggested it.

Why risk everything [ they've ] worked so hard to achieve?! She had asked and to this day, Nat doesn't have a prominent answer. She just knows, it wasn't right to keep lying about it and of course, there's more to the story than just that alone. ❝ If all of you knew the truth then the overall goal wouldn't have been sufficient. ❞ So many words played at the tip of her tongue, but as she thinks of them, she again realizes they probably won't be justifiable enough which only makes this harder. Because no, she can't really justify it in full for it to really make sense. It seemed like a good idea at the time and they were all still alive in the end, right?

So, that was the most important thing. Consequences had to be made and she's not proud of what she had to do to make that happen. When Van does finally move to lock the doors and adhere to Nat's request of closing shop early, Nat keeps her head down before following the other towards the narrowed stairway. For once, she's being obedient without conflict or a want for confrontation. The last thing she ever wanted with Van while also expecting it to some degree and she does take note in the fact that Van isn't looking at her either during the entire process. Once they do reach the upstairs area, Nat glances around and places her hands back within the confines of her leather jacket pockets as a safety net.

❝ Look, I get that you're angry, okay? I do. You have every right to be confused and upset, understandably. But I need you to hear me out and I realize I'm asking a lot of you right now even just by showing up out of the blue like this. Misty and I, we… we had to work fast. Lottie was out of her fucking mind, thinking that a sacrifice needed to be made and she wasn't going to stop. Maybe it was fucking stupid, but you can't deny that it worked, right? I mean… your store is still going, you're all still alive. We all fucked up in more ways than one that night. ❞

van is well-acquainted with death, or almost death, or whatever fucking sequel of events she's endured in her life that made it feel like she wasn't exactly meant to live through them. it's the punch line to a poorly written joke they know all too well. the crowd falls silent, unsure if they should laugh. the ba dum tsh of the you were supposed to die but you didn't. she's seen it on a plane filling with flames and in the bloody maw of a wolf and the all saviour push from a girl who once left her to die. nevermind the slow and steady speech of a doctor. just when van thinks they've finally seen it all—— death opens its hollow labyrinthine of a mouth and laughs: have you seen this version of me before? 92's cult classic death becomes her has nothing on this macabre satire.

❝   make it believable?   ❞ they repeat the words back at her, scrunching their nose and throwing their hands around in the ultimate form of perplexity. ❝   what the hell does that even mean?   ❞ so many questions live and die on their tongue that van can't even keep track of them. she aimlessly tries to collect them as more pile in and suddenly she's laughing with absolutely nothing to be laughing about. van presses her palms flat against the tapes. they should throw something. it wouldn't be the most absurd thing happening in this room right now. ❝   yeah, wouldn't want anyone to walk in on the ghost of natalie scatorrcio.   ❞

and yet, van doesn't do either of those things; not throwing the vhs tapes or making a move towards the door where nat is still lingering. they merely stare at her like they've been punched in the gut. she wants answers. (fucking right i want answers) she craves some sort of explanation that could make a fuckery like this make sense, but hell .. the last time van allowed themself to give in to that little creature habit of needing to find the purpose for something it ended up with this very woman's body falling to the ground and a whole lot more trauma to shove alongside the undigested pieces of what they all had. so really, what damn explanation would be good enough?

❝   okay.   ❞ van concedes, a confirmation of terms they're not even really sure they're agreeing to in the name of anything except trust and trust is a fickle thing they've struggled with for a majority of their life. finally finding the courage, they cross the otherwise empty shop. the sound of the lock echoes against the backdrop of ironic by alanis morissette. ❝   guessing this is more of a sit down thing. come on.   ❞ it isn't a question. van doesn't look at natalie while they're this close, and instead nods their head for her to follow, leading nat upstairs.

[mishasminions]

Here’s why the Supernatural Series Finale Sucked

(AND IT REALLY ISN’T JUST BECAUSE CAS/MISHA WASN’T IN IT)

First of all, I’d like to state, that this perspective is coming from someone who has watched, invested in, and dissected this show for 15 years. I’ve tried to rationalize and justify every single decision each of the main characters made throughout the years, and I’ve always tried to make sense of each of their story arcs from a “bigger picture” standpoint as each season progressed.

Anyway, before I can properly explain why the finale sucked, let me quickly take you through 15 seasons by segregating them into 3 eras, because you can’t really comprehend what Supernatural is about and what it’s become without going through how it tried to expand its universe.

SEASONS 1-5: THE KRIPKE ERA

Now, we all know that Kripke was always set in wrapping up Sam and Dean’s story in 5 seasons, and he did just that.

So, in this era, Supernatural is about two brothers who set out on a journey to fulfill “the family business”. They hunt mythical monsters that terrorize the world, while battling the monsters within themselves. Their ultimate “big bad” is an apocalypse.

Towards the end of this era, we find out that Sam and Dean are actually a parallel to Biblical characters who are brothers turned rivals. And that Sam and Dean’s destiny is to go up against each other.

However, as a dynamic, they have always been about making their own choices, choosing free will, and having a brotherly bond that can power through against any obstacle at any given day.

So, this era is neatly wrapped up with its finale. The characters grow, and get justified endings.

Dean, a man who thinks of himself as two things: 1. Sam’s older brother and protector; and 2. Daddy’s blunt little instrument.

He’s spent his whole life believing that that was his only purpose, and he knew that the only ending he’ll get would either be a bloody death fulfilling his duty to the family business; or laying his life on the line to save his brother.

Dean gets the ending he thought was never possible for him, something he thought he could never deserve. After years of living and dying for his family, he gets a shot at having an apple pie life--to settle down with a nice girl, raise a kid in a house with a white picket fence. With Sam gone, Dean’s responsibility now is to himself.

Sam, on the other hand, never wanted any part of it, because he wasn’t groomed the way Dean was, and because thanks to Dean, Sam wasn’t traumatized or forced into growing up too quickly the way Dean was.

So Sam aspires for a normal life, and works the cases with Dean so he can maybe get some semblance of it, when everything they set out to kill are laid to rest.

Ultimately, Sam performs a selfless act for his brother, who has given up everything for him, and for their cause--to save the world.

The journey is this: Dean sacrifices everything to save Sam, and Sam sacrifices himself so Dean could live.

Apart from being Dean’s “savior” and guardian angel, Castiel’s role in this era is to serve as a mirror to Dean’s journey. Castiel goes from being heaven’s foot soldier, following “God’s orders”; to an angel who learns to choose and feel for the first time in his existence.

After they realize that they’re both daddy’s blunt instruments, Dean starts choosing his own path for himself, and convinces Castiel to join him. Castiel stops following heaven, and starts following Dean.

In the end, with his newfound understanding of the world thanks to Dean, Castiel goes back to heaven to reform it.

We’ve resolved the biblical arc, and the character journeys.

SEASONS 6-10: THE SPIN-OFF ERA

So this is where the show realizes how vast its universe can be, so it tries to expand it by tapping into uncharted lands and experimenting with it.

They take on heaven, reform hell, explore purgatory, have the angels fall, turn Dean into a demon, and kill Death.

Dean and Sam recognize their codependency, and try to rise above it.

They go back and forth between which brother will risk it all for the greater good every other season.

Dean and Cas strengthen their relationship by recognizing the impact they have on each other’s lives.

Cas structures his life and decisions around Dean (Seasons 6-7), and Dean learns to trust and fight for Cas (Seasons 8-9).

Sam and Cas bond (mostly over Dean) because of their shared rationales in decision-making.

Dean, Sam, and even Cas also forge relationships with the people they work with. The concept of “found family” is introduced here.

This era was heavy on the plot while establishing, reinforcing, and solidifying relationships and dynamics.

At this point, it wasn’t just about the brothers anymore.

If Supernatural had ended in Season 10, the logical finale would’ve been Team Free Will, along with the family that they’ve found, going up against the latest big bad (Death or whoever). Maybe they lose them along the way, maybe they all make it out alive, or maybe they go down swinging, but at least the show recognizes and supports the message they keep saying, “Family don’t end with blood”

SEASONS 11-15: THE REWRITE ERA

This is where the show runs out of ideas and decides to invalidate the seasons that came before it.

From bringing Mary back (basically rendering their whole journey pointless because they’ve literally started hunting because of her death), to changing the stipulations in being Michael and Lucifer’s vessels (another character struggle rendered useless), to God himself breaking the fourth wall by saying that the Winchesters get away with everything because “they’re the main characters in his story and everything they’ve been through was just part of a badly written narrative”.

But what we’re getting from this era is that Sam and Dean, along with Cas (who has also deviated from the story) ARE trying to escape a badly written narrative.

That’s the “big bad” in this era. The writer.

At this point, the characters have picked up so many strays (including those from alternate universes), and have settled into their roles in their “found family”. Dean, Sam, and Cas all become surrogate dads and uncles.

They’ve also graduated from the whole “we’re on different sides” and “going behind each other’s backs” drama. And they just want the whole family together.

They’ve all resigned themselves to the cause, but they’re also tired. Dean allows himself to contemplate about wanting more out of life or at least getting a vacation. Sam, on the other hand, realizes his capabilities as an effective leader. Castiel learns to love another being that isn’t Dean (spoiler: it’s Jack).

However, they also realize that they’ve just been puppets on a string all this time.

So what they want now, is to write their own story, and make their own choices knowing that God/the writer isn’t the one fueling their narrative.

So here’s why the finale sucks:

Andrew Dabb, the current showrunner, said that there would be two finales.

15x19 - The finale to wrap up Season 15, and 15x20 - The finale to wrap up the series by “resolving the characters’ journey”

In 15x19 the boys find a way to de-power God/the writer. For the first time in their whole lives, they are free from the story. Their lives are completely theirs now. They can make their own decisions. There are no more “big bads” to fight

And here’s what happens in 15x20:

Immediately after being freed from their story arc, Dean and Sam go back to hunting the monster of the week.

Dean eats pie, gets nailed (literally), makes a 10-minute speech to Sam because he knows he’s dying, then he goes to heaven.

Dean is greeted by Bobby, his surrogate Dad who he hasn’t seen (fully alive) since Season 7. Bobby’s expository dialogue comprises of him explaining that he got out of heaven’s jail, that John and Mary are next door, and that Jack and Cas fixed the dynamics of heaven off-screen.

The first thing Dean decides to do is go for a long drive in his Impala (as if he hasn’t done enough of that already).

Meanwhile, Sam decides to stop hunting after Dean dies, he gets the apple pie life he hadn’t wanted since Season 8 (while Dean was in Purgatory), and names his kid “Dean” for effect. He grows old and dies.

Dean drove around in heaven for so long that Sam catches up to him.

They hug. The end.

Great, right?

After 15 years of struggling to battle their own respective destinies, going up against big bads and even bigger bads, then finally being able to take charge of their own stories, Dean and Sam regress to hunting the monster of the week, and get killed off by a nail and old age. Okay.

Sam gets to retire and have a family, sure, but they still focus on him and the kid he named after his dead brother. Still just “Sam and Dean” through and through. Nothing to do with found family. Just lineage. Just blood. And it ends there.

See, the problem here is that this ending would’ve been passable in The Kripke Era. But we’re 10 years down the road since, and while Sam and Dean are the original main characters, the show isn’t just about them and their codependent relationship anymore.

So you see, even if you take out the whole “Castiel deserves to be in the finale because he’s also a main character with an unfinished story arc” argument, the finale still does no justice to the series it tried to “wrap up”.

But anyway, now I’ll make the case for the problem with Castiel not being in the finale:

In 15x18, we get a 5-minute rushed confession from Castiel to Dean. The context of which are as follows:

1. Earlier in the episode, Dean had wounded Death with her scythe. We later find out that this wound is fatal.

2. Their friends start to “blip out” in a Thanos-like snap, and Dean thinks that Death is causing it, so Dean seeks her out, and Cas goes with him.

3. Dean and Cas anger Death, apparently for no reason because she didn’t even do the thing they thought she did. She chases them to try to kill them

4. Dean and Cas lock themselves in a room. Dean starts a pity party.

5. As Dean goes through hating himself out loud, Cas decides to inform Dean of the deal he made with The Empty. He then proceeds to explain the stipulation of the deal (that he would get taken once he experiences a moment of true happiness), then discusses his newfound happiness philosophy. Dean is getting whiplash.

6. Cas goes on to imply that the one thing that he wanted that he knew he couldn’t have is Dean Winchester reciprocating his romantic feelings for him. (Don’t even try to fight me on this because Cas already has Dean’s platonic love, and he knows that Dean thinks of him as a brother, so if he really meant this in a “familial” way, then why would he think that he couldn’t have the thing that would make him happy?) So Cas’ realization is that telling Dean about his feelings is enough to make him happy.

7. Cas tells Dean all the reasons why he loves him (thereby combating Dean’s self-deprecation tirade), and all the reasons why he’s worthy of his love. Meanwhile, Dean is still winded from the fact that Cas is about to sacrifice himself for him again.

8. Dean never gets to process anything, because Cas is shoving him out of the way, as he and Death (who busts through the door) get taken by The Empty.

After this episode, Dean never speaks of it. Misha Collins supposes that Dean doesn’t reciprocate. Jensen Ackles says that Dean didn’t really get to process it because it was too much, too fast, and that Dean, still dense as ever, thinks that Cas, a celestial being, doesn’t interpret human feelings the same way.

So what was the point of this confession?

Politics and sensitivities of a 2005 network television aside, what does this do for the story?

Cas proclaims his romantic feelings to Dean, but Dean never acknowledges it, doesn’t even give it a passing thought afterwards. So Cas’ big declaration goes unheard.

Cas cashes in on his Empty deal to kill Death (who was dying anyway), in order to save Dean who dies two episodes after.

Dean makes no effort to save Cas (despite being really broken up about his previous deaths, or even spending a whole year in Purgatory looking for him), even after they’ve beaten God, not even asking Jack (who has all the power in the universe) to bring him back (when Jack has already done it before, with less mojo).

Dean moves on to fight the monster of the week. Somewhere off-screen, Jack rescues Cas from The Empty, but Cas uncharacteristically doesn’t even bother to go to Dean? (Every single time he comes back, Dean’s always the first person he goes to)

And Cas, who apparently helped craft and reform the new heaven, isn’t the one who welcomes Dean and explains the new dynamics of it?

Sure, Jan.

Supernatural, you’ve created a finale that only your casual viewers and people who dipped out after Season 5 can appreciate.

Just goes to show how much you actually valued the people who actually invested in your story and characters, and consistently helped keep your show on the air.

[RT this on Twitter]

[imagines-hoarder]

House Warming - Bucky Barnes

Summary: Hopping through some standout moments in making Bucky's apartment a place worth coming home to. (This definitely could have been a headcanon but I refuse to do headcanons at this time.)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 2.6 k

Warnings: fluff with a lil angst

A/N: I have finished all the assignments left for my degree and decided to sit down and write today. This is probably trash but idc because it has been written and therefore I may as well release it. It's been a while since I've written and years since I've truly tried dipping my foot into a different fandom, but I figured I'd give it ago. Please don't forget to leave comments, I love interacting with y'all. Thank you @bwbatta​ for the dividers! xoxox

Masterlist

It all started with a damn candle. A ‘sandalwood & vanilla orchid’ candle tucked away in a reused cyan jar.

“I found it at the art market down the street last weekend,” you said as you placed it in the corner of the living room window. “You know we have to support local business.”

“And I shouldn’t assume this is your way of telling me my place smells, right?” Bucky quipped from the kitchen island, a cup of coffee in his hand and a lazy smile on his face. He’d just gotten back from a 12-day mission with Sam, and the last thing he had on his to-do list was to buy candles.

The smile grew firmer as you put yourself into his arms. “Complete opposite, actually. I bought it cause I thought it smelled just like you.” You hid your face within his chest, and he thanked the stars that you couldn’t see the warmth rising in his cheeks. His barren apartment felt a little bigger with a candle in the windowsill.

From there it became decorative pillows… and a couch to hold them. The small living room had quickly become a mess by the time you both had brought it up to his fourth-floor apartment, furniture wrap and packing peanuts strewn everywhere.

“I still don’t know why you needed to buy a sofa this big,” Bucky grumbled as he leaned over the back of the beige three-seater, looking down at your splayed out across its cushions.

“Don’t get me wrong, babe. I love the transient bachelor look you’ve got going on here, but you need more furniture than an armchair,” you mumbled between heavy breaths as you tried to regain control from maneuvering the couch into the apartment.

“And the pillows?” A laugh fell from your lips as you watched him look at the indigo cushions with a remarkable amount of disdain. Who buys pillows made just to look nice on a couch?

“They add character.”

“I didn’t think character was an area we were lacking in. Transient bachelor, remember?” He walked around the couch and shifted you over so he could lay beside you. You instinctively curled into him as you both closed your eyes. For a second the place felt like home. “I also don't know how you plan for us both to fit on this couch every day along with the pillows.”

“Don’t worry about it,” You looked up from his chest with a mischievous glint that made his heart skip. “It’s a pullout bed too. I’m sure it’ll be firm enough even for you.”

The home improvements didn’t stop there, but Bucky refused to admit how much he enjoyed them.

He liked having a place and person to come home to. After you had bought neutral bedding for his room, you’d spent an evening putting together ‘his and hers’ trestle bookcases for either side of the bed. He’d try to keep up his crabbish demeanor as you argued that ‘you needed a place to set your books for when you slept over,’ and a side table could no longer contain the small collection you had spilling over. Even still, he couldn’t find it in himself to banter much about the minor changes you made to make the place feel lived in.

And God, did he love living with you around. Between missions, his continued therapy, and trying to find his place in a world that had tripled in opportunity since his youth, he knew that he never had to question who he was and where he fit in when he walked through that door. You still occasionally slept at your own apartment when he was away, but he could always count on you being asleep in his bed by the time he came home.

One toothbrush in a glass became two, and from there, hand creams, face masks, and cotton pads cluttered the bathroom counter, packed away in their clear containers. You had made sure to keep lavender bath salts on hand for the late-night baths you took together when he woke up in a panic, unable to close his eyes again for fear of falling back into a nightmare.

It took time and working through plenty of hesitation before Bucky could progress from sleeping on the pull-out sofa to the bed, but ever since, you found your nights attended by restlessness whenever you weren’t wrapped in his arms.

Once your lease was up and you had a lengthy conversation about your inability to rest without him, you quickly filled the apartment with brown boxes. Bucky had been no less than astounded by how much you fit into them. From then on, no nook or cranny was without a vase or shelf.

“How many mugs does one house need,” Bucky asked skeptically while he continued to carefully pull them from their paper wrappings.

“Oh, come on! They’re fun!” You exclaimed, wrapping an arm around his waist as you took the Charlie Brown mug from his metal palm. “Plus, we go through enough coffee around here to justify some extra mugs.”

After you put the mug into the lowest shelf of the cabinet, you busied yourself with filing away the spices one cabinet over. No matter how much he tried, Bucky couldn’t pull his eyes away from you, lost in your own world as you chipped away at unpacking your belongings, making yours his, and vice versa. The domesticity in the little things you did was something he could get used to, and he wanted to return the feeling of normalcy as much as he could. He was far from the average boyfriend, but you remind him that could be a good thing. You never wanted to be average, but in these small moments, as you both did what normal couples do, he felt that he could create a new normal with you.

“So your Christmas gift came in already, and it’s too big to hide.” Your awkward tone carried over the phone as he exited a station ten minutes away from the apartment. Even though his neck ached and the cold nipped at the top of his ears, he couldn’t stop himself from releasing a breathy laugh.

“I thought you said you were good at this gift-giving thing, doll,” he teased you as he maneuvered his way to your shared apartment.

“Oh, don’t you fret, baby. I am the best gift-giver in all of New York City. I just slightly miscalculated how big this thing was and have realized it won’t fit into our closet.”

He tsked with a smirk on his face. “If you say so.”

“Hey, you gave me my Christmas gift a week ago.”

“Yeah, that’s because I didn’t know if I’d be back before Christmas.”

“Well, you will be, and I’m glad you are,” your voice softened lovingly as he pulled out his keys to the front of the building.

Bucky had gotten used to your love, but he’d vow to never take it for granted. All the pain he’d endured had somehow led him to you, the person who didn’t see his broken pieces as a burden or a project but as a potential to be whatever he desired.

When he hung up the call and unlocked the apartment, his brows furrowed into one; the apartment was pitch black. It was only when he heard your soft footstep walking towards the entrance that his face relaxed.

Before he could even kiss you, you had your palms firmly placed over his eyes. “No peeking; your gift is in the living room.”

The uncertainty in what you could have got him made his stomach clench. “Is it an animal?”

You slowly dragged him through the front hallway, making sure to avoid crashing into the entryway storage table. “I’m sorry to say it’s not alive.”

“Is it a nice welcome-home spread with candles, fruit, and the pullout bed all set up?”

He could feel your eyes roll to completion. “Easy there, sergeant. That’s for later.” You pulled him down to sit on the couch, and he kept his eyes closed as you pulled your palms away, moving to turn on a lamp. “Okay, Buck. open up.”

When he opened his eyes, it took him a moment to understand what he was seeing nestled against the wall; when he did recognize it, he could only form two words “Holy shit.”

“Holy shit indeed.”

He was quick to stand up and cross the room, eager to get a good look at the walnut centerpiece. “Does it work?”

You scoffed as you moved to kiss his cheek. “What kind of girlfriend would get her ancient boyfriend a broken phonograph console?”

He didn’t even attempt to answer as he bent down to wrap his arms around you, his lips eager to find yours. “A fucking Magnavox radio and phonograph,” he mumbled against your lips.

“A working Magnavox radio and phonograph, you mean.” When you pulled away and saw that his face held a glow reserved only for special occasions, you knew you had made the right choice. “I’ve got some records wrapped up if you want to open those now too.”

You yelped in surprise as he picked you up and made his way towards your bedroom. “I’ve got something else I’d like to unwrap first.”

Bucky Barnes had grown up in a period when the average family could seldom afford nice things or much of anything at all. The Great Depression has resulted in the slogan ‘Make it do or Do without,” being ingrained into what memories he still had, and 'doing without' had become commonplace for the Barnes household.

That’s why every gadget and gizmo you added to your household left him in awe. For much of his life, including the decades he spent as a weapon for Hydra, he hadn’t been allowed to call anything his own; he was still getting used to living so plentifully, both in love and in life. But now, he could barely move and he thought it had all been taken away from him.

The attack was supposed to have been contained, at least three miles away from the apartment. Anything less, and he would have made you visit your family upstate instead of just suggesting it. By the time Sam had told him that there’d been some confirmed damage within a block of the apartment, Bucky was already on his way home. He couldn’t think of anything but the worse: you trapped in a collapsing apartment building or pulling up to find no building there at all.

He felt his lungs fill with air again as he pulled up to your building, completely intact regardless of the severe damage less than a five-minute walk away. It felt like both seconds and hours between when he parked his outside and unlocked the front door.

“He doesn’t have his phone on him, mom. How am I supposed to…” you trailed off from your call as he walked into the living room, turning your head away from the Breaking News report you’d been glued to for the last hour. “Wait, I’ll call you back. Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll call you back.” Your eyes never left his as he walked over to you, hanging up the phone with worry in your eyes. “Buck, are you oka-”

You couldn’t even finish your sentence before he pulled you off of the couch and into his arms. His grip was less reserved than he usually kept, but he made sure not to hurt you, eager to keep you in his arms, where he knew you were safe. A single tear fell from the corner of his eyes as he realized the real possibility that he could have lost you if you lived even 5 minutes closer to the attack. You stayed like that for a while, gathered tightly in his arms as you both settled onto the floor You didn’t push him to verbalize his fear; you already understood it. And it took this occurrence for him to realize he never wanted to experience this feeling again.

Bucky was quiet for the rest of the evening, and while it worried you, his fear had been evident enough not to require questioning. The city-wide cleanup had lasted all hours of the night; for the first time in all the years you had lived in the city, the sounds of the whirring of vehicles clearing debris off the street had been too close to ignore. The sun was rising before a single word was said between you and Bucky, tangled together on the sofa as the first ray of light made itself known.

“You’ve spent so much time piecing this place together, doll.” His voice was raspy. You know he hates when you see him cry, but his pain was always evident in his voice. “And it could have been all wiped away in seconds.” You let a heavy silence settle between you as you traced a pattern into his shoulder. He couldn’t bear to say it, but you knew what he meant: You could have been gone within seconds. “I just… I don’t ever want to feel like this again.”

You’d both gone through so much to make your relationship work. Nearly normal was as close as you would ever attain to being an average couple. The distance, the days without contact, and the ever-present fear that anything could pull you away from one another was something that had taken time to work through.

You looked around the living room and saw the place you had built together. There were photos and books scattered on any flat surface, a leftover mug half-filled with cold tea, and a record left out on the phonograph. The apartment looked like what love felt like; a messy combination of everything you and Bucky. But this apartment could not contain everything that ‘home’ was; only Bucky could do that.

The words fell from your mouth before you could restrain them. “Maybe we should move.”

Your eyes found each other, and you both sat in silence, though it felt lighter, invigorated with the new proposition.

Before he even responded, you could see tension dissolve from his shoulders. “Where do you want to move?”

You hadn’t thought that far ahead, only being able to provide him with a shrug. “I don’t know… maybe upstate, maybe somewhere else.”

“Your mom would like you being Upstate.”

“My mom would love us living next door too, but I don’t see that in the cards anytime soon.” You got a ghost of a smile for that.

“We could probably afford a house if we moved out there,” he said as he moved his lips to meet your forehead.

“Buck, I’d move anywhere with you. As long as we have each other, then we have all we need to rebuild this place.”

He pressed soft kisses to the crown of your head, and you swore you felt his chest flutter. “Tomorrow, I’m gonna look for some places, bigger ones too.” He tilted your head up to find your eyes, and you were sure that all of the love you carried for each other was incredibly visible at that moment. “You have made this apartment something worth coming home to. Now let me give you a house to make a home.” Your skin tingled with adoration as you pulled him as close as possible, burying your face into his neck.

You didn’t want to let go. You wanted to lay in this room, in this bed, and in this moment until the end of time, but you knew that something bigger and better was on the horizon for you and Bucky.

“All I heard is that you’re buying me a house.” His laugh was music to your ears.

[sorryforbeingcrazy]

Buffy and Spike deserved more...talking.

I´ve been marinating this in my brain for a couple of days, so here I go.

I really liked the relationship between Buffy and Spike. And I´m not only focusing on the “romance” part, but in general. I loved their transition from enemies to allies to....friends? I just enjoyed how when it came to serious threats, they always looked  and relied on one another for help.

That´s why one of the things that disappointed me the most about the last season was the fact that they never really talked about how wrong they did to each other on season 6.

Season 6 is a very very dark season, for all of the characters: Willow´s addiction to magic and the effects it has on Tara, Xander´s fears that end up leaving Anya on the altar, Giles feeling that he is useless...But who really takes the trophy home in this one, is Buffy. I don´t even know how to start.

From the moment she is brought back to life, she suffers. We were expecting her comeback to be a happy moment, filled with tears of joy, laughter and hugs. Instead, she wakes up in her grave, has to dig herself out and then she walks around a Sunnydale on fire and full of demons. Can you imagine the shock? Only the crawling up from the grave should be enough to send someone to therapy for the rest of their lives. The mere thought of waking up in a coffin, six-feet undergroundnd makes me anxious...But let´s keep going.

She is back. She is traumatized and shocked beyond belief and at home with Dawn (after reliving everything that happened before she died). She is quiet, trying to process everything while Dawn is constantly talking to her about how things are and asking if she is ok. Her hands still wrecked from the diggin. And suddenly, she is face to face with Spike. (This is a sidenote related to the actors. I cannot give enough credit to James Marsters portrayal of Spike in general. But in this scene...man, 12/10, flawless). He looks at her in disbelief. And despite the fact that he was happier than ever that she was alive again, he does not try to touch her or approach her, and the moment he sees her hands he acknowledges what she has been through. So he just tell her that they are going to take care of her, and sends Dawn away to fetch stuff to clean her wounds. And they are alone in the living room. He does not overwhelm her with questions or hugs or anything. He just stares at her, giving her time to put her thoughts in order.

It may look like a trivial scene but I´m not kidding when I tell you that, for me, this is the most important scene of the whole season. And it is because it defines how the dynamic between Buffy and Spike, and Buffy and her friends is going to be.

When Spike is holding her wounded hands, letting her ask questions, just staring at each other, there´s silence. Peace. Calm. It´s the first moment since she is back that she is at ease. But the moment her friends burst through the door, is chaos. Noise, questions, worry, light, people...And this is why this scene is so important. During the rest of the season, the reason why Buffy goes away looking for Spike is because she wants that peace and quiet. She wants the calmness she gets around him, when she does not have to worry about being fine and happy in front of her friends. She can take her mask off when she is in front of Spike. That´s why she tells him that she was in a good place. That´s why he turns into her confident.

And for sometime, it works. Whenever she feels like she can´t take it anymore she goes to spend sometime with Spike. The problem is that her life gets harder and harder: financial problems, Giles leaves, Willow´s addiction, her relationship with Dawn. Her struggle becomes unbearable to the point were Spike is the only safe constant in her life. The only person she can rely on. And of course, mixing this with Spike´s feelings and their “tension”, their relationship turns physical. Very physical. And here is when Buffy starts using, quite wrongly, Spike.

The first time could be a slip, but not the rest. She may not have been aware at the beginning, but deep inside she knew what she was doing. She knew that Spike had strong feelings for her. She knew that he would never deny her and even if he did (that he actually does a couple of times) he wouldn´t last long. So she takes advantage of him and his feelings.

Someone, blind as a fucking bat, could say “Spike wasn´t minding it. He was enjoying the sex with Buffy. It´s what he wanted.” Fuck, no. He spents the whole season wanting to talk to her about their relationship. To discuss what is going on between them. If you are in it just for the sex, you don´t care to ask questions. You just don´t care. You just take what you came for and then you leave. The way Buffy does. And this bothers him. It bothers him that the moment they are finished she runs away. It hurts him. More than once he calls her out by the fact that whenever they are not “in bed”, she is constantly yelling at him and insulting him and his feelings, and yet, she always comes back to him.

Now, for those who think that Spike was fine with this I want you to imagine for a second, that you are in his shoes. As a human being, and not caring about genders. Imagine you loved someone, beyond reason (i´m not even going to throw in the fact that he saw her die even though i could). And because you care about this person, you spent time with them because they are in a bad place mentally. And that person enjoys your company. And starts spending more time with you. And one day, you kiss. Once. Twice. Then, you sleep together. Once. Twice. And god knows how many more times. You could think “If they like to spend time with me, tell me things they do not to their friends, kiss me and even sleep with me, they must feel something, right?” It´s a fair assumption. But instead, this person is constantly telling you how disgusted they feel with themselves for being with you physically, to the point were they keep what you have in absolute secret from their friends, and they run from you everytime you sleep together.

Fucking. Imagine.

Evil or not. Souless or not. That fucks you up my friends.

What leads us to the horrifying events of Seeing Red. You won´t see me coming any close to justify what Spike tries to do to Buffy. There´s no excuse in the world that clears you from that one. But I do see where it comes from. And it´s not just because Spike is evil. That´s a lame excuse of an argument. That scene, is the representation of Spike hitting rock bottom. He wants what he had with Buffy back. Even if it was only physical, it was at least something. And so, he is desperate...and well....we all know what happens. I swear to you, that scene creeped me out so fucking much.

That´s why it angers me how they did not approach these subjects on season 7. They both did terrible things to each other. They should have talked about it in depth. And even though I´m quite satisfied how they ended up acknowledging each other in ways any of the other characters do, I cannot hide my displeasure about that missing conversation. They needed more closure for what happened on season 6.

Good lord. This really turned out long.

Anyway, thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.

[theoakleafpancake]

The Dragon Prince Season 4 Spoilers

(FYI this is long)

Okay, so maybe I’ve been thinking about this far too much—probably because I’m seeing it so much on TikTok—but there are so many people saying that S4 Rayllum wasn’t good/it was terrible, and all sorts of other stuff. And honestly? I strongly disagree, even with the provided reasonings they give (disclaimer, I’ve reworded these but they’re literally the same comments I’ve seen):

“They didn’t even kiss!”

“They lost their spark and I’m so annoyed!/S4 Rayllum was disappointing”

“They should’ve got back together.”

“Callum was so annoying towards her” (this one really makes me mad sooo yeah)

Now. We waited three seasons for them to get together. Is it understandable that some fans would be disappointed that their favorite/one of their favorite ships fell apart? Yes, of course. That had been built up since the beginning, and then having them not have that “spark” is very sad. BUT, if we’re looking at this from a realistic perspective, their dynamic this season makes perfect sense.

Don’t get me wrong, I love Rayla, she’s one of my favorite characters. And yes, she left him because she was afraid of losing him and she wanted to keep him safe. But it’s been two years since he’s seen her. It was his fifteenth birthday. His birthday, when she disappeared. “I don’t even know if she’s alive” (Episode 1). He’s spent the better part of two years without knowing where she is, and somewhere along the way, whatever hope he had probably went away at some point, because clinging to something that painful is definitely not healthy. He’s got his new duties as the High Mage, and he’s worried about her, and he wonders if Viren really is alive, and there’s so much more stuff going on. Like rebuilding an entire kingdom and giving his brother whatever support he can.

And then suddenly, she comes back. After two years. Not days. Not weeks. Not months, but years. He’s been hurting all this time, and then she just waltzes into his room like nothing happened. “I was so happy, but so mad” (sry I don’t remember the episode number). That comment about how annoying he was towards her? He was angry, and he had every right to be. If someone had done that to me, I wouldn’t have swept it all under the rug. Remember how he got upset with her at the Storm Spire because she basically told him she wanted to sacrifice herself while the others escaped? Yeah. But this is worse. She promised him that they would go together, and that promise was broken. She lied to him. She broke his heart. But she also had her reasons for doing it, and in her mind, it was her only chance to keep him alive and safe. To her, it was the best solution. Rayla would much rather him be mad at her than losing him.

But remember the third episode? She admits that she was so obsessed with revenge that she had risked losing him. So she, too, acknowledges that she was partly in the wrong, but she also knows that she would have made the same choice again. Given their two differing views, at the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter who’s right and who’s wrong if they can’t agree on that. They’re currently in the middle of another fight that could turn out to be something so much worse, and they’re being forced to work together again. If they had more time, maybe things could have wrapped up a bit quicker, but the thing is, they don’t. They barely had a chance to fully talk. If my memory’s right, they actually had a “real” talk twice. Once when she first appeared, and they were both too high-strung and keyed up for an actual conversation. The second time was at the Storm Spire when he started crying. They almost had a full-on conversation when Soren interrupted them (Soren, you’re a great person now, but please never do that again). And that’s where I want to add in the fact that the lack of any “kiss” makes so much more sense, because it’s kind of hard to be intimate with each other when one’s stubbornly angry and the other is stubbornly justifying her actions.

This whole season, they’ve been rebuilding what they had. I was lowkey worried that the writers would rush their reunion and sweep it under the rug, and if they’d done that, I probably wouldn’t have liked it all that much. But you can see their growth throughout the season. They argue, and they bicker, but they also are much more cordial towards each other. In the third episode, Callum doesn’t even want to talk to her, and in the episode where they’re confronting Igneous Rex, he reaches out first and comforts her when she gives up her swords—swords that he knows are important to her. And when they escape Umber Toh, he knows she can’t let Viren go, and he doesn’t fight her on it because he trusts her a little bit more. And that hug at the last scene of them was pure perfection. It wasn’t a kiss, but it was a step forward, a very important step forward that lets Rayla know that Callum can forgive her, that they need more time to talk, to be around each other, to trust each other. Two years is a long time for that sort of trust to fade.

Rayla never stopped loving Callum. And deep down, Callum never stopped loving Rayla. But they’ve both been hurt by past events that caused this rift in the first place, and communication is key, right? This is just my personal opinion on why I loved S4 Rayllum, but, yes, people have different opinions. This is just mine.

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Coming Down (Ethan x MC)

Summary: They break up. Dassit

A/N: I’ve been tired of this imposter Ethan, and the back of forth nature of his romance route for the entirety of book 3, so I wrote this.

Warnings: None

Title Inspo

~v~

Naomi’s fingernails tap impatiently against her leg as the shrill ring of her cell phone rings at her ear. It rings 5 long times before she’s sent to voicemail.

“Hello, you’ve reached Dr. Ethan Ramsey. I’m sorry for not answering your phone call, but leave a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thank you.”

“Ethan, it’s me...again. I haven’t heard from you in,” lifting her wrist, Naomi checks the time on her watch, “wow, in over 24 hours. I’ve been calling and calling, to no avail, and you just aren’t responding.”

The news of Ethan getting hit with a malpractice lawsuit hit her like a freight train. As soon as things started to feel good again, as soon as the diagnostics team started to find its rhythm with two new physicians, this torpedoes any chance of normalcy she could ever experience.

“If you could give me a call back and let me hear the sound of your voice, that’d be great. Bye.”

There’s a lot more that she wants to say, but she’s been given a limited window of time so Naomi hangs up.

Switching tactics, Naomi opens up her messages, and scrolls to her thread with Ethan.

Naomi: Hi

Naomi: Are you okay? I haven’t heard from you in a while.

Naomi: Can you at least reply, telling me to leave you alone?

Naomi: At this point, I’d settle for at least knowing if you’re alive.

She waits a few minutes, and when she gets no response, she shoves her phone into the pocket of her white coat. Anxiousness and worry pools in the pit of her stomach, and the only thing she can think about is Ethan’s well being. And this situation doesn’t bode well because Naomi is still in the middle of her shift.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of quiet chatter as the door to the diagnostics team’s office opens and in walks Tobias and Harper. Their conversation is cut short once they notice the youngest member of the team.

“Hi, Naomi,” Tobias greets, an easygoing smile adorning his face. “What’s up?”

She wishes she could feel as casual as he looks, because every part of her body is twisted inside out and turned upside down.

“Have either of you talked to Ethan today?” Naomi asks, skipping the pleasantries.

“I spoke to him yesterday just to gauge how he was handling the malpractice suit,” Tobias answers. “Obviously, the conversation didn’t last long because he and I rarely interact outside of these four walls, but he seems…” he trails off when he notices Naomi’s face fall. “What’s wrong? Is everything alright?”

Any other time, Naomi would be ecstatic to hear about Tobias extending an olive branch, and Ethan actually accepting the support, but today isn’t that day. She’s been trying to get in touch with him all day with no success, but he answers a phone call from his sworn enemy?

“I haven’t heard from Ethan today, so I’m at least glad to know he’s breathing,” Naomi says, her voice tight.

Too caught up in her own pity party, Naomi misses the way Tobias and Harper exchange worried glances. The team has been through enough the past few months, the last thing they need is romantic friction between Ethan and Naomi seeping into the office.

“Maybe he’s turned his phone off since then?” Tobias suggests. “Times like this can force you into an introspective mood, and he’s probably going technology free.”

Naomi chuckles humorlessly. She appreciates Tobias’s effort to satiate her foul mood, but she can’t think of a single excuse short of death that could justify Ethan’s behavior.

She stands, dusting off her coat and straightening it out. “Thanks. I’m going to get some lab work done on our patient, page me if you need anything.”

“Will do.”

Without another word, Naomi exits the office.

Working helps slightly. For an hour or so, Naomi is successful in turning off her brain and focusing diligently on work. She manages to not think about Ethan at all.

Until she hears his name brought up in conversation. She’s strolling towards the nurse's station when she sees Sarah and another nurse, Ronnie huddled in a corner.

“Sounds like Dr. Ramsey’s not as perfect as everyone thinks, huh?”

“Screwing up a standard tracheotomy that way? Frankly, I’m just surprised it took the patient this long to sue!”

Naomi slows her steps before she stops walking all together. The nurses are so engrossed in their conversation, they don’t even notice her.

“I heard from Marlene that the patient wouldn’t have even needed a trach if they hadn’t dosed her wrong in the first place,” Sarah adds in an excited whisper.

“Seriously? That’s next level…”

Her first instinct is to stop this, to tell them to stop talking, the urge to protect Ethan still as strong as it’s always been.

But she stops herself from doing that. Because why should she? Why should she put forth the effort to defend the honor and reputation of a man that doesn’t even have the decency to answer her phone calls?

And just like that, she’s plunged back into her flurry of conflicting emotions: worry, fear, annoyance, and most of all, anger. The emotions war inside her, all fighting for dominance, and she hasn’t felt like this since her intern year when he left to go to South America without any sort of goodbye or correspondence.

That wasn’t a good period in her life. Naomi can still feel the cold grip of anxiety that plagued her chest when she came into work one day and he was nowhere to be seen. She heard through a LVN that he left before confirming it with Naveen. She can still taste the saltiness of the tears she shed after leaving her 5th unanswered voicemail. Experiencing such a high of beating her ethics trial and getting picked for the diagnostic team,  and the low of him leaving in that short amount of time left her spiraling and isolated, and it took entirely too much time clawing herself out of that dark place.

Turning on her heel, Naomi speed walks in the other direction, her original plan long forgotten. The hospital passes her by in a blur as her legs move, the rest of her body and brain moving on autopilot.

She doesn’t stop moving until she’s in front of the residents’ lounge. She spots Aurora, Bryce, and Sienna sitting at a table.

“Naomi, come join us!” Sienna exclaims. “We’re going to make cappuccinos with this fancy machine.”

“I’ll have to take a raincheck on that,” Naomi says. She turns to Bryce. “Can I borrow your car keys please?”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just have a couple errands to run and I don’t feel like taking the train. I’ll bring it back with a full tank of gas and everything.”

“I’m not gonna nitpick you about gas, Omi.” Bryce’s warm gaze sweeps across Naomi’s face, studying her. If he notices anything wrong with her, which he probably does because Bryce is a lot more perceptive than he gives himself credit for, he thankfully doesn’t mention it. He reaches into the pocket of his mint green scrub pants and pulls out his keys. He tosses the keys to Naomi with a wink, and she catches them mid air.

“I keep a shovel in the trunk in case you need to bury a body.”

Whether he realizes what is going on with her, or if he just cracked a joke to lighten the mood, Naomi is grateful either way.

~v~

Naomi spends an hour driving around Boston, people watching and attempting to collect her thoughts before she ends up in Back Bay at Ethan’s apartment complex. She didn’t want to go to his house in her previous state, guns blazing and emotions all over her place.

Even on the ride on the elevator up to his unit, her stomach is in knots and her heart beats faster than normal. She hasn’t been this nervous about seeing Ethan in a long time, and it dawns on her just how fucked this entire situation is. Why should she be nervous to talk to the man who claims to want to be with her?

Steeling her nerves, Naomi issues three sharp knocks to Ethan’s front door. Approximately 45 seconds pass before the door opens.

“Naomi!” Ethan’s eyes widen when he sees her standing there. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you going to let me in, or should we have this conversation in the hallway?” Naomi asks. Ethan steps aside, widening the door so Naomi can enter. “Thank you.”

The apartment is stale, like Ethan hasn’t opened the windows in a few days. He looks disheveled, the bags under his eyes are extremely pronounced like he hasn’t gotten a wink of sleep.

For lack of a better word, Ethan is a mess. And she wants nothing more than to just...wrap her arms around him and make everything better. But she doesn’t. She keeps her distance.

Ethan shuts the door before turning back to her. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“No.”

“Well let’s sit down.”

“No, I think I’d rather stand because I don’t plan on being here long.”

The coldness stuns Ethan. Naomi almost seems indifferent towards him, something he’s never experienced before. It doesn’t go unnoticed that she didn’t bother greeting him warmly, no hug or kiss, no excitement in her voice, nothing.

“I needed to see with my own two eyes that you were alive and well,” Naomi starts. “Because you’ve gone radio silent on me. I know you’ve seen me calling and texting. Your phone works just fine because you picked up a call from Tobias of all people.”

He averts his gaze, ashamed of himself. “I’m sorry, I–”

She holds up a hand, stopping him mid-sentence. Naomi doesn’t believe for one second that he’s apologizing due to actual remorse. “I have spent the entire day wracked with intense worry. I feel like I’ve been turned upside down, and I could barely focus on work. Every time I thought I could be productive, something or someone was there to remind me of you. And then I’d spend more time ruminating over you and your situation, and the fact that you’re ignoring me, and then I’d feel like absolute shit. And earlier today, as I listened to the nurses gossip about you, I realized that this feels so much like your two month sabbatical to the Amazon, and our relationship hasn’t changed at all since then.”

“That’s not true,” Ethan argues.

“It is,” Naomi insists. “One step forward doesn’t mean anything if we end up taking two steps back immediately afterwards. A year and a half later, you’re still holding me at arms length, keeping yourself closed off, ignoring my calls.”

“I don’t mean to do this, to be this way.”

“But you continue to do it, so at this point you have to see it’s a pattern. You won’t even open up and talk to me about this lawsuit that’s being waged against you.”

“I just don’t want you getting needlessly involved.”

“While it’s a noble excuse, it’s complete and utter bullshit. If you think you’re doing something to save my reputation, remember nothing you do will ever top me almost losing my medical license my intern year, and then having a resident face a malpractice lawsuit a few months later. So come on, give me another excuse.”

“I’m doing this for you!”

“How? How could this possibly be for me?”

“Everything I touch becomes tainted!” Ethan snaps. “Because there is something wrong, in which everyone arounds me leaves or dies, or everything falls apart. I don’t have control or autonomy over anything, so yes, the one precious thing in my life, I’m too scared to touch.”

“But I have been right here with you! I was right here in this exact same spot when we worked on Naveen’s case. I sat by your side while we watched over Dolores’s son. I was there when they wheeled your mother into the hospital, and when you took her to rehab. Time and time again, I’ve proven to you that my loyalty is steadfast, and not once have I ever wavered, so you don’t get to stand here and punish me for some unrealized fear. You don’t get to treat me like I’m a passenger in this relationship, if you can even call it that.”

That’s what gives him pause. “Of course this is a relationship.”

“This isn’t a relationship, I am just a woman you sleep with. Occasionally you open up to me, we share a cute moment and promises, and then you clam up and up goes the barriers, and it starts all over again. And every single time, we’re a little bit deeper into this thing we’re in. I’ve shared more, I’ve let myself be more vulnerable with you, emotionally and physically, I’ve deluded myself into thinking ‘This time it’s the real thing,’. And I’m afraid that this is going to be our reality. One day I wake up, 3 years in, tentatively living with you, trying to settle into the pieces of a life I’ve scrounged up with you, and you do this again.”

“I don’t speak on it, and I don’t like to because I try to keep it all together, but you don’t understand the toll it takes on me every time we do this back and forth. I was a train wreck when you quit. I had the trial looming over my head, Landry, a guy I considered one of my closest friends betrayed me in the worst possible way, you weren’t the only person scared of losing Naveen, and I couldn’t even verbalize any of it to you because you slammed a door in my face when I tried to bring it up, and then you left me. And then you did it again, and I spent two months worried that you might not even come home because you could contract the deadly disease you were off fighting. And then you go on national television declaring your relationship status, and you made promises to me on my deathbed that led nowhere, and then finally we make some headway in Hawaii and establish what we have going on, and then I come home to this. So while you say one thing to me, time and time again, your actions say otherwise. It’s clear I’m not a priority.” 

This conversation triggers Ethan’s fight or flight response. He doesn’t know where this conversation is headed, but he’s smart enough to know it’s nowhere good.

“Naomi, what are you saying? Spell it out to me like I’m a preschooler.”

“I think we need a break,” Naomi says in one breath, afraid she’ll break if she prolongs this any further. The six words leave a sour taste in her mouth that she has to choke back.

“No,” Ethan’s tone is gruff, and the seriousness almost startled Naomi. “No, we’re not breaking up.”

“From where I’m standing, we already have,” Naomi retorts. “I’m just confirming it.”

Ethan takes one long stride towards Naomi, but she takes a step back. “Look, I am a daft asshole to put it mildly, and I know I have a lot of work to do, but this is by no means a reason for us to break up.” He takes another step forward, and now Naomi is backed up against the door. He tugs her forward, wrapping his arms around her. “I am sorry. I know the words probably sound hollow, but trust me when I say I mean it. I’ll fix this, I’ll do whatever it takes. You’re the only person I want, the only one I’ll ever want, and I’m not losing you. Not now, not ever.”

Through this right embrace, Naomi can feel just how rapidly his heart is beating. He’s scared.

A tear slips from the corner of her eye, and she’s too drained to even wipe it away. “This is reactionary. You’re saying all of this because you’re panicked, but if you meant any of what you just said, it wouldn’t take the threat of a breakup in order to want to change things.”

“It shouldn’t have taken me this long to realize what a fool I’ve been,” Ethan says. He refuses to let go of her, his arms still wrapped so tightly around her petite frame, he almost worries about crushing her.

“I agree.” What does that even mean? She gives him nothing more than that, and Ethan is left to stew in his own doubt and worry. Naomi breaks free of his embrace and presses a palm to his chest, signaling him to give her some space. “But I still think we need some space.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Trust me, I do.”

It becomes hard to breathe. When Ethan woke up this morning, the last thing he expected was Naomi to dump him. “What can I do? Tell me how to fix this. Do you want consistency? Done, I’ll talk to you every single day, multiple times a day. Transparency? Sit down right now, and I’ll explain this entire lawsuit top to bottom. You want proof that I’m never going to up and leave again, you can take my fucking passport. Naomi, I don’t care what I have to do, I will do it, but I will not accept you walking out of that door.”

Naomi inhales deeply, trying to stop a full son from bursting out of her chest. He’s saying all the right things, but at the wrong time. It’s too late now. “I’ve warred with myself all day about this decision. You’re clearly not in the right space to sustain a healthy relationship, and that’s fine. I just need to remove myself from the situation, for my own health and well-being. And I think you need to do the same.”

“So...what? This is it? It’s over?”

“Let’s be honest Ethan, you never gave us the opportunity to begin.” She wants to touch him so badly, reach out a run her hand through his hair or stroke his beard one more time. It takes everything in her to not. “You’re a great doctor, one of the best ones I know, so I really hope you beat this entire lawsuit and I get to see you back at Edenbrook. Take care of yourself, Ethan.

Ethan shakes his head in denial. He refuses to let things end like this, and for her to give him the same cool professionalism she extends to every other coworker.

“Naomi, wait–”

She’s out of his apartment before he can convince her to stay. It doesn’t register until he hears the soft click of her door shutting that she’s actually gone. And another minute passes before the gravity of the situation finally dawns on him.

For the first time in a long time, he’s truly alone.

~v~

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[soulmate-game]

I was feeling angsty. Read at your own risk, there is very little comfort in this and a whole shit ton of hurt. Probably a bunch of emotional triggers, so seriously be careful guys.

—*—*—*—*—*

Liquid pain ran down her arm like poison, the slash in it burning hot and spreading it’s agony like an invisible waterfall inside her flesh. But she did not grip her bicep where the wound had been inflicted, her gaze blank as she forced herself to hide her turmoil behind glass eyes. Her brother’s snarling face was only inches in front of her own, his katana moving from her arm to her throat.

“Useless! To think we share any blood relation is humiliating!” He growled at her. She did not move, did not emote. Her blades fans, the weapon she was loved most, lay half-opened on the ground beside her. Abandoned. But she knew Damian’s sword would not kill her. Blood family was a bond that was not to be severed by murder unless ordered by Ra’s or justified by the murdered family member in question betraying the League. She had done nothing to betray the Shadows, and Ra’s would not waste time and energy, or the breath it would require, to order her death. Just as he would not waste the precious waters of the Pit to bring her back again. She would not die today, and she knew it.

Sure enough, it was only a few more insults in various languages before Damian Al-Ghul stepped back and scowled down at the blood on his blade. Her blood. “If you don’t even have the stomach for real combat, you do not belong here,” he spat.

“That is where we agree, Grandson,” Ra’s sharp voice echoed through the room, his beady eyes never once bothering to glance at his granddaughter. “Maria, you are hereby stripped of the name Al-Ghul. Banishment from the League is the only mercy you shall be granted for your dishonor on our blood. Be useful and use whatever is left of your mistake of a life to stay out of the League’s way. Shall I, Damian, or your mother ever see your face again, your burial will follow shortly after. Am I understood?”

“Yes Gr— yes, Ra’s Al-Ghul.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Maria Al-Ghul was seven years old when she was disowned and sent away from the League of Shadows without so much as a penny to her name. She was only allowed to take the change of clothes she carried, and one small backpack’s worth of items. Her mother— Talia— had watched vigilantly as she packed those items, assuring that Maria did not take anything of worth.

The girl traveled by foot, too small to get away with driving a vehicle. Unless she could manage to steal a motorbike— she knew how to adjust the seats and pedals on most models to accommodate her size. But she was far too far away from civilization for that.

She knew that most of the League expected her to die in the jungles that surrounded the temple. After all, there were ninjas scattered throughout it with strict orders to kill anyone who was not one of them. And Maria now fit that description.

But if there was one thing Maria knew better than anything else, it was how to hide. How to hide feelings, intentions, involuntary movements, or her whole body in almost any setting. She covered herself in mud, matted her hair with dirt and took off her shoes. Barefoot was always quieter, and her feet would be more sensitive to any change in terrain. She would have to move more slowly and be on the lookout for traps, ground litter that could harm her, or dangerous wildlife, but she would be much harder to track.

It took her a month, but she made it to her first Tibetan city alive and decently healthy. She begged for food for a day before snatching a child’s outfit off of some hanging laundry lines and stealing the first decent vehicle she found. It was an old moped, but it beat walking and was already built small. She made it work.

That was how she spent the majority of the next year. She traveled from town to town, stealing what she needed until she could earn money normally. She used that money to buy herself a fake identity, even if she had to use the skills she had hoped to never need again in order to afford it.

Marinette Shiwang was born when she was already eight years old.

It was only a year after her new identity was created when she bumped into a woman in a street market. That was nothing new, those places could get crowded. But when Marinette looked up and saw valuable bracelets and necklaces of gold and jade, she knew she needed at least one. The money she would get for it would have her living comfortably for a short while. So Marinette’s theft-experienced fingers darted out and unclasped one bracelet in a fluid movement. It took less than a second. She barely had the piece of jewelry in her hand before she started to take off, hoping to lose herself in the crowd.

But a small hand clamped around her shoulder, a sturdy thumb pressing against a very vulnerable spot right at the back of Marinette’s neck, at the base of her skull. A clear threat from somebody with experience.

The sweet voice that followed didn’t match the gesture at all.

“Oh, I need that back dear. It was a gift from my husband, you understand.”

Marinette did. She cared about survival more. The small girl twisted, knocking the hand away from her before it could do damage and darting down a side street. The woman followed. It took three hours, but Marinette decided she had finally lost her pursuer before slumping down in the tiny, closet-sized bedroom of her cheap apartment. Her eyes closed for only a second before the window opened, and the smell of newly-baked sesame buns filtered through.

It was the woman and a much taller, much more masculine man. He was practically a giant, reminding Marinette of a certain member of the League that she used to know. They were both smiling.

“My wife figured you would be more open to an exchange than just giving up the bracelet for free,” the man’s voice was deep and inviting. “You can eat as many buns as your stomach can handle, if you give it back.”

Marinette accepted. Mostly because of her fear for people who could track her to her home so easily, when she had been certain she had not been followed. The League has tuned her senses well, there was no way the couple had been close enough to see her when she made it to her apartment. Yet they were still there somehow. Then, it also had to do with the promise of food, and the heavenly smell of the food itself. And then, lastly, Marinette was tired. She didn’t like stealing, it was just a necessity. She would not hurt these people over a mere bracelet that she wished she didn’t have to take in the first place.

Useless, she thought. So much of a bleeding heart that she just gave up what could have paid for two months rent. Too soft to even protect herself. The Al-Ghuls has been right. She was a waste of space and time.

Marinette was ten years old when she became a Dupain-Cheng. Somehow, that strange, dangerous couple had become her new family. Not even she knew how. But she was grateful— they took her back to Paris with them and she didn’t have to worry about rent, or food, or money anymore.

She vowed, that day that she received her spacious attic bedroom, that she would repay them. She would make herself useful, for the first time in her life. She would stay out of their way, be the perfect most unobtrusive daughter ever. She would help in the bakery, keep a smile on her face so that they never doubted that they were doing a good job. So that they never wasted time worrying about her. She smiled, and laughed, and became successful for them. Competent and reliable even though her memories would sink into her dreams every day and make it near impossible to drag herself out of bed in the mornings.

And then, when Marinette Dupain-Cheng was thirteen, she was given a pair of magical earrings and a tiny fairy-god. And Tikki was thorough, at least. Diligent in her explanation. Marinette listened to every word, dread seeping in as she doubted her ability to carry out such an important task. Save a city? Defeat someone much more experienced and magically powerful than her?

Useless little Maria could never. Slightly less useless Marinette could never.

She was only ever meant to play a support role. Stay on the background and make everyone else shine, without ever succeeding in anything worth noting. That was who she was.

But then Tikki gave her the Warning. The catch that came with the Ladybug abilities, and Marinette felt the long-rusted determination in her begin to fire up again. Maybe she could be Ladybug. Maybe she could be useful, at least this once. At least for just this one scenario. She could fight and win the war against Hawkmoth, and that achievement alone could make her happy. Let her die knowing she did something worthwhile.

—*—*—*—*—*

Damian Wayne was seventeen when he and his family found out about the Paris Situation, and immediately went over to offer help. Damian Wayne was seventeen when he watched Ladybug stumble at the sight of him, and immediately run away. But the two of them were twins, and though twin telepathy might be a myth they always did have a certain instinct when it came to one another.

Damian Wayne was Seventeen when he said, aloud on the top of a random Parisian building and surrounded by his family—

“My sister is Ladybug.”

Damian didn’t wait for their reactions, having entirely forgotten about the existence of his father and brothers, before taking off after his spotted sibling.

—*—*—*—*—*

“I knew you were alive.”

In hindsight, those probably weren’t the best words for him to say when Maria clearly thought he was still an assassin.

Damian watched as Marinette spun to face him, her face so much more expressive than he remembered. He could actually see the resignation in the slump in her shoulders, he could feel the fear in her bluebell eyes. The eyes she was lucky enough to get from their father while he was cursed with their mother’s green irises. He used to envy that about her, especially after joining the BatClan. But now he only felt comfort when he looked into her eyes. Comfort that she was different than him, and always had been. In the best of ways.

He watched as his sister was enveloped by a bright flash of pink light, detransforming right in front of him. And without the mask, it was impossible to ignore the relation between them. She had their father’s eyes and nose where he had their mother’s, but other than that they were almost carbon copies of one another. Her blue-black hair was pulled back into twin braids though, something he noted distantly as oddly fitting. They suited her, he thought.

But all those thoughts instantly turned to dust as she dropped to her knees in front of him, head bowed in complete submission.

“Tom and Sabine are innocent,” she told him. “They adopted me out of nothing but goodwill, and they have been nothing but good to me. I never told them a single word about my origin, I swear it on our blood. They think I am just an orphan that was abandoned in Hong Kong—“

“Maria—“

“—so please, don’t harm them. I’m begging you. And there is no need for you to waste energy killing me. You are welcome to stay in Paris as long as no harm comes to Tom and Sabine, but just wait and watch. I know who Hawkmoth is, and our final plan is almost ready. I’ll have him taken down by next week. Just— wait until then, please. My death will take care of itself afterwards, but Paris deserves to be free, and killing me now will set this entire war against Hawkmoth back by at least a year. And I also need that time to pick my successor—“

“Maria! I am not here to kill you!” Damian had to yell to get her to stop babbling and begging. She froze, but didn’t dare to sit up or even raise her head. So Damian took the initiative and sat down on the ground with her, though he kept his distance so that he didn’t scare her too badly. He couldn’t blame her for her reaction, it had been ten years since they had seen one another and their parting hadn’t exactly been pleasant.

But he had changed a lot since then, matured a lot.

“I am completely disconnected from the League,” he admitted. Of the blurry memories he had of her, he did remember that being blunt was the best way to handle information with her. Beating around the bush had always done nothing but make her exceptionally nervous and jittery. Sure enough, his admission was enough to make her look up at him with disbelieving eyes. He risked a small grin. “I didn’t come in my old uniform, did I?” He gestured to himself in the bright Robin colors. Sure enough, Marinette’s rapid blinking proved his theory that she hadn’t even registered his clothing at all to be true. She had run as soon as she recognized his face.

But Marinette did not speak. She sat up a little, still eyeing him cautiously. But her silence helped him finally realize where they were— where she had led him.

The sounds of traffic and other big city noises were all muted, as if muffled by several layers of cloth. Shadows fell over them abundantly, and they were surrounded by dilapidated concrete walls.

She had brought him to an abandoned area far from any activity, where a body would take ages to find. She had then disarmed herself of her only weapon, her magic suit, and had gotten on the ground in total submission.

She had purposely given him the perfect setting to kill her, where there would be no witnesses and plenty of time before her body would be found for him to escape. That realization hit Damian square the chest, leaving him breathless for a moment.

“I am not here to kill anybody,” he reiterated, his voice noticeably much gentler than before. “Not you, not you adoptive parents, nobody. I left the league when I was eleven. Mother—“ he took a breath, but Maria deserved to know. “— she cloned me. Her clone killed me. He no longer exists, but that is of no consequence. She killed me, she and Grandfather disowned me when I made it clear I was not returning. Father— our father,” he was insistent as he leaned forward, not continuing until she met his gaze. “You remember who our father is, right? Bruce Wayne? Mother had dropped me off to be raised with him when I was ten, but of course it was all just one of her plots. It was her miscalculation though, because I ended up growing close to them. To Father and his adopted children. You would get along with Gra— with Dick, the best I think. Although T— Jason would also be a prime contender as your favorite brother, I think. He shares your love of motor bikes, if that hasn’t changed?” She just stared at him, clearly confused and experiencing a lot of feelings at once. He stayed silent for a moment to allow her to sort through them a little.

“I’m Robin now,” he made his voice quieter, but still easy for her to hear. “I’m a member of the Bats. I’m sure they would all welcome you, if you chose to meet them. Though be warned, they can be quite in—“

“Why are you doing this?” Marinette’s voice was barely above a whisper, Damian almost didn’t hear her. But he did, and fell silent. He watched as his sister licked her lips and tried to find the right words to say. “If what you say is true… you have a perfectly good family. Brothers, Father, a comfortable life. Why follow me then? Why offer me… any of that?”

Damian frowned. He didn’t remember Maria being so gloomy, but then again she had been raised to never show her emotions. Maybe, after years away from the temple like him, her true feelings were just easier for him to see now. Closer to the surface.

“I want to get to know you— to get to know my sister, again,” he told her. “Don’t tell them, but Father and the others have taught me to appreciate family. The way I treated you when we were children was not right, and though it was heavily influenced by Mother and Grandfather, I want to make up for it nonetheless. Maybe we can get to know the new us, together?”

Marinette’s eyes went wide with disbelief, but then she clenched her jaw and shook her head.

“We can’t.”

“... right, I understand if you do not forgive me. I didn’t even consider—“

“It isn’t that,” Marinette was quick to correct him. “When I said that my death will handle itself, I mean it, Damian. The Ladybug… the earrings that give me my powers, come with a price,” she absently ran her fingertips over the unassuming black studs in her ears. “If a Ladybug uses the miraculous for more than three years, the powers of Creation will demand to be balanced. Already, the Miraculous is powering itself on nothing but my life force now. Once I defeat Hawkmoth, there will be no need for Ladybug anymore. The moment I take the earrings off, they will cease keeping me alive.”

Damian’s face fell. No— no, that wasn’t right. He was finally able to find her, finally able to apologize and try to fix his past mistakes. This couldn’t be how the reunion went. This couldn’t—

“Not even the Lazarus Pits can bring me back from a Miraculous death,” Marinette went on. “So you and your family should go. You don’t need to be here when I—“ Marinette paused, gasping. “Damian, why are you crying?! Stop that!” Her voice became desperate, Marinette crawling over to him as quickly as she could and wiping away his tears as if they were something terrifying. Damian wasn’t sobbing or making any noise, it was just a silent stream of tears running down both cheeks as he stared at her wordlessly.

“I…” he finally managed to choke out. “I wanted to make up for everything. I wanted for us to be twins again, together.”

Marinette paused, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “I know a magic user who can erase your memories of me,” she offered. “But you don’t have to feel guilty for anything. You never said anything that wasn’t true.”

Damian’s green eyes widened. He had said nothing but cruel things to her, that last year they spent together as children. Did she really believe all of that? Did he and their childhood really affect her self worth this severely and irreversibly?

“Maria—“

“My name is Marinette, actually,” she corrected him with a small smile. “I’m not Maria Al-Ghul anymore. Marinette Dupain-Cheng is actually useful, Damian. I can actually do things right— I’m doing something right right now. Beating Hawkmoth will be the first worthwhile thing I’ve ever done, don’t you see? Once it’s all over, I will have brought honor back to our blood. I’ll have proved to you that I really am your twin, that I wasn’t a mistake. That I was born for a reason,” Marinette’s eyes got dreamy even as Damian just felt like he was impaled again, this time by a spike of ice rather than a sword. “And I’ll be able to die before I ruin it. It’s a perfect scenario.”

“A perfect scenario implies that nothing important is going to be lost,” Damian breathed. Marinette just blinked.

“Yeah, I know. That’s the plan. Defeat Hawkmoth, save Paris, and nobody dies.”

“But you’re going to die!” He growled. Marinette leaned back, bewildered by his violent reaction.

“Yeah, but it’s not like I actually matter. Nobody needs me. Tom and Sabine might be hurt for a while, but they will recover just fine. And it’s not like I have friends or any—“

“Stop worrying about other people, damnit!” Damian surged forward, grabbing her shoulders hard enough to bruise and shaking her a little. “Even back then! Even when we were seven, you threw down your blades because you were more worried about hurting me than you were about how Grandfather would react, even though you knew he would be tempted to kill you for what he thought was cowardice! You never put yourself first, and it’s finally starting to piss me off!”

“Damian—“

“No, listen to me!” He shook her again, his tear stained cheeks only making his glare all the more potent as he stared right into her eyes. “You are alive, and your life matters! You were never worthless or useless, you just didn’t fit what our abusive situation wanted of you. They wanted a cold hearted killer, a tool they could use, and you were always too warm hearted and clever to fit either of those goals. But I did, I was the killer they were looking for and the pawn they wanted. If anything, that makes you better than I ever was! I was too young and naive to see it back then, but I’m trying to make up for it now. You are my sister, whether you go by Maria or Marinette, Al-Ghul or Wayne or Dupain-Cheng, I don’t give a damn! And so help me, even if I have to surgically attach those earrings to your skin, I am not letting you die before you gain at least a modicum of respect for yourself. Do you understand me?”

A wet sniffle met his ears, and he pulled Marinette in for a hug. She returned it weakly, sniveling and sobbing into his cape.

“D-d-Damian?”

“Yes, Shaqiqa?”

Another sniffle.

“I-is it really o-okay for me to stay with you?”

“Of course.”

“I-is… is it really oka-ay for… for me to live?”

Damian’s arms tightened around her. “Always. Always, always.”

Marinette buried her face into his shoulder, taking a deep shuddering breath.

“Th-then… I wanna try.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Not sorry. Ha 😎

[sekceesimps]

The Dragon’s Requiem (A Zhongli x Reader x Childe oneshot)

Summary:  Zhongli reflects on his past with the reader as he watches her move on with someone new. 

angst with fluff and maybe a lil nsfw?

Pairing:   (past) Zhongli x Reader. Childe x Reader  

a/n  NOT THE GENSHIN HCs GETTING 600 NOTES WHAT THE HECK THANKS EVERYONE! That was such a great present to wake up to (who needs a S/O? smh I have my 200+ tumblr followers). 

I tried writing the reader as gender neutral, but since I’m a female it might not have come across as that, so I’m sorry ahead of time. Anyways, I hope everyone enjoys, leave some requests and feedback (it means so much to me)! 

Sincerely Coffee 

Your fingers tangled gently into his dark locks, tugging him closer to you. You smile softly at him as he delicately places light kisses across your face and jawline, slowly inching towards your neck. You bask in his warmth and glowing attention as you arch your back to get even closer to him. In times like this, he couldn’t help but admire everything about you. From how happy you look, to the way you slept so peacefully just moments ago, or the way that you would look in a few minutes with your face flushed and begging for him.  

Zhongli has always been a man who lived in and cherished the past. He could spend hours talking about Liyue’s history or explain the customs and cultures of a time long before. It would bother some people, but never you. He admired you so much. Your patience for him, the openness of your heart to allow him to come into your life, and the unique beauty you had that surpassed anyone else in his eyes.      

He never really cared for humans. Yes, he knew he had a responsibility to them, but he never truly loved them. At least, he never loved any mortal the way that he loves you. He has been alive for thousands of years, but he had never felt this attached to someone, especially not a seemingly simple mortal. It was his strange attachment that made losing you all the more difficult.    

His greatest insecurity had always been his lifespan. If he could give everything up to spend his life with you, then he would have. He knows he has responsibilities as a protector of the nation of Liyue, but the promise of your sweet embrace and a meaningful future with you was too good to pass upon. With you, he wasn’t stuck in the past, but looked towards the future. 

“Childe! You’re such a tease,” your soothing voice sharply breaks him out of his reveries of the past. 

“Well it’s not my fault that you’re too stunning to contain myself around,” the harbinger known as Tartaglia shot back playfully and moved to grab for your hand. You take quick notice of his actions and allow him to wrap his fingers around yours. 

“Can we have dinner there!” you point excitedly at the Liuli Pavilion. 

“Anything for you, love” he grins and pulls you two towards the restaurant. 

The crowds parted at the sight of the young Fatui and his darling Y/N. He was accustomed to showing them off to everyone, proud of being able to pull someone as stunning and kind as them. Zhongli looks down, feeling sick, was that the feeling of seeing his dear Y/N with that man. He didn’t really move on. He stayed in Liyue’s harbors, sometimes you even caught glimpses of the God who stole and broke your heart in a different time. 

“I love you,” Childe grins after pulling away from you. Allowing you to catch your breath following the heated kiss, before you respond, 

“I love you more,” smiling back at your boyfriend before leaning in to steal another kiss. You move your arms to the back of his head, digging your fingers into his hair as he passionately returns your kiss. His own hand traveling low and playfully squeezing your ass. It was a simple show of affection between a young couple in love. A couple that most everyone was familiar with and adored. Of course the two of you thought you were in a secluded area, but there are people who have known this land and it’s hiding spots for years. 

It was a shame, he thinks, as he watches you and the auburn haired man enjoy your day out together. Together. The word really hits him right then and there. You had moved on past your days with the archon.              

He knows it’s selfish to continue to long for you. He left and hurt you so unfairly. You were someone precious to him, and he broke you without a care in the world. 

“Zhongli, are you ok?” you asked meekly as you walked into your shared home. He’s agitated, pacing and scrunching his eyebrows. The normally calm composured man looked flustered and sad in a way. 

“I want to take a break” he pronounced unexpressively. With blank amber eyes he tore your heart out. No, I don’t want this. I want to be with you forever. I don’t want to hurt you, he chides himself internally

Your silent tears hurt him more than any wound he’s received in battle. This is for you though. You don’t deserve this pain, but what you feel now is infinitely better than the suffering he would inflict on you in the future. 

He stops himself from reaching out to you. That would only serve to give you false comfort. He leaves without another word, heart shattering more and more as you finally let out your sobs behind the door. This will be better for you, he justifies to himself, I could never give you what you wanted. 

It was you who changed him. It was you who showed him how to really and truly love someone for the first time in his thousands of years of life. It was you who made him want to be better and grow. 

“Why do you love me,” you asked suddenly, breaking the calm silence between you two. 

“What kind of question is that?” he had questioned in return, slightly tilting his head to face you, truly puzzled as to why you were asking something like that. 

“Well I’m not particularly special. My fighting skills are average. I’m not as attractive as others around here. I guess I’m just wondering why a God like you is interested in someone as average as me. I’m sorry this is probably annoying you” you mutter and turn away from him slightly to hide your face. 

“You’re not average. You’re stunning, brave, true, and compassionate. You are so much more than even that. There has never been any other mortal that has ever captured my attention like you have. I only have my eyes for you so don’t apologize,” he answers honestly, gazing into your eyes, which were now welling with tears. 

“I love you,” you whisper and let him wrap his arms around your body, pulling you close to him and offering a comforting touch. 

“I love you more than you could ever imagine,” he mumbled into your hair and placed a light kiss on your forehead. 

Something inside of Zhongli curls up and dies when he hears your illuminating laughter and head thrown back, as your E/C eyes gleam in the sun’s light. That should be him making you laugh. Him causing your happiness. Him kneeling on one knee. Him devoting his life to you. 

“Yes!” you exclaim in shock at seeing the man you’ve spent the last two years with get down on  one knee in front of you.

“I haven’t even asked anything yet,” he teases as he slides a silver band onto your finger, “but I’m glad you said yes.” you smile back at him and place soft kisses all across his face. 

“Come on, let’s eat some golden shrimp on the roof over there!” he declares as he places another kiss on your cheek right before he takes off towards the roof of a building on the harbor. 

This would be the final time Zhongli swears to himself again as he takes another glance at your grinning form. He knows it’s a useless promise because he knows that he’ll be back soon. 

He thinks it’s ironic that it took leaving you to realize how much he can’t live without you. 

As he turns away from the scene of the grinning couple, his heart crumbles, but it’s the thought that you would finally be happy, keeping him from breaking forever. Yes, he would be at your side for the rest of his days, it may not be in the way that he wanted, but he holds you too dear to leave for good. 

“Goodbye for now my darling Y/N” the archon murmurs. He hopes you hear his requiem for what the two of you had. For what he would still protect and cherish, even as he watches it get replaced by someone you deserved more. 

You hear a familiar voice faintly echo as you cling further into your now asleep fiance's arms and rest your head on his shoulder. As you feel a shadow of a kiss on your forehead you can’t help but think back to those precious times with your geo archon, “Until we meet again Zhongli. Perhaps in a different life I’ll be enough for you,” you whisper into the night.  

The dragon lets out his final song, all the while your own resolve crumbles away, longing for the man you once called home, but accepting this wonderful future with a man you love. 

a/n  Feel free to drop a like or comment, it boosts my fragile ego. In a bit of pain if you couldn’t tell. I’ve also gotten too addicted to this game and it’s sekcee characters, please send help 🤧  

[lokiondisneyplus]

A review of “Journey Into Mystery,” the penultimate Loki Season One episode on Disney+, coming up just as soon as I paper cut a giant cloud to death…

Journey Into Mystery was the title of the first Marvel comic to feature either Thor or Loki. It began as an anthology series featuring monsters and aliens, but Jack Kirby, Stan Lee, and Larry Lieber were so smitten with their adaptation of the characters of Norse myth that the Asgardians gradually took over the whole book, which was renamed after its hammer-wielding hero(*).

(*) The early Journey Into Mystery stories treated Thor’s alter ego, disabled Dr. Donald Blake, as the “real” character, while Thor was just someone Blake could magically transform into, while retaining his memories and personality. It wasn’t even clear whether Asgard itself was meant to exist at first, until Loki turned up on Earth in an early issue, caused trouble, and Blake/Thor somehow knew exactly how to get to Asgard to drop him off. Soon, the lines between Thor and Blake began to blur, and eventually Thor became the real guy, and Blake a fiction invented by Odin to humble his arrogant son. It’s a mark of just how instantly charismatic Loki was that the entire title quickly steered towards him and the other gods.

But once upon a time, anything was possible in Journey Into Mystery, which makes it an apt moniker for an absolutely wonderful episode of Loki where the same holds true. Our title characters are trapped in the Void, a place at the end of time where the TVA’s victims are banished to be devoured by a cloud monster named Alioth. And mostly they are surrounded by the wreckage of many dead timelines. Classic Loki insists that his group’s only goal is survival, and any kind of planning and scheming is doomed to kill the Loki who tries. But this ruined, hopeless world instead feels bursting with imagination and possibility.

There are the many Loki variants we see, with President Loki, among others, joining Classic, Kid, Boastful, and Alligator Loki. There are the metric ton of Easter Eggs just waiting to be screencapped by Marvel obsessives (I discuss a few of them down below), but which still suggest a much larger and weirder MCU even if you don’t immediately scream out “Is that… THROG?!?!?” at the appropriate moment. And all of that stuff is tons of fun, to be sure. But what makes this episode — and, increasingly, this series — feel so special is the way that it explores the untapped potential of Loki himself, in his many, many variations.

This is an episode that owes more than a small stylistic and thematic debt to Lost. It’s not just that Alioth looks and sounds so much like the Smoke Monster(*), that it makes a shared Wizard of Oz reference to “the man behind the curtain” (also the title of one of the very best Lost episodes), or even that the core group of Lokis are hiding in a bunker accessible via a hatch and a ladder that’s filled with recreational equipment (in this case, bowling alley lanes). It’s also that Loki, Sylvie, their counterparts, and Mobius have all been transported to a strange place that has disturbing echoes from their own lives, that operates according to strange new rules they have to learn while fleeing danger, and their presence there allows them to reflect on the many mistakes of their past and consider whether they want to, or can, transcend them.

(*) Yes, Alioth technically predates Smokey by a decade (see the notes below for more), but his look has been tweaked a bit here to seem more like smoke than a cloud, and the sounds he makes when he roars sound a lot like Smokey’s telltale taxi cab meter clicks. Given the other Lost hat tips in the episode, I have to believe Alioth was chosen specifically to evoke Smokey.

Classic Loki is aptly named. He wears the Sixties Jack Kirby costume, and he is a far more powerful magician than either Sylvie or our Loki have allowed themselves to be. He calls our Loki’s knives worthless compared to his sorcery, which feels like the show acknowledging that the movies depowered Loki a fair amount to make him seem cooler. But if Classic Loki can conjure up illusions bigger and more potent than his younger peers, he is a fundamentally weak and defeated man, convinced, like the others, that the only way to win the game into which he was born is not to play. “We cannot change,” he insists. “We’re broken. Every version of ourselves. Forever.” It is not only his sentiment — Kid Loki adds that any Loki who tries to improve inevitably winds up in the Void for their troubles — but it seems to have weighed on him longer and harder than most.

But Classic Loki takes inspiration from Loki and Sylvie to stand and fight rather than turn and run, magicking up a vision of their homeland to distract Alioth at a crucial moment in Sylvie’s plan, and getting eaten for his trouble. He was wrong: Lokis can change. (Though Kid Loki might once again argue that Classic Loki’s death is more evidence that the universe has no interest in any of them doing so.) And both Loki and Sylvie have been changing throughout their time together. Like most Lokis, they seem cursed to a life of loneliness. Sylvie learned as a child that a higher power believed she should not exist, and has spent a lifetime hiding out in places where any friends she might make will soon die in an apocalypse. Our Loki’s past isn’t quite so stark, but the knowledge that his birth father abandoned him, while his adoptive father never much liked him, have left permanent scars that govern a lot of his behavior. The defining element of Classic Loki’s backstory is that he spent a long time alone on a planet, and only got busted by the TVA when he attempted to reconnect with his brother and anyone else he once knew. This is a hard existence, for all of them. And while it does not forgive them their many sins(*), it helps contextualize them, and give them the knowledge to try to be better versions of themselves.

(*) Loki at one point even acknowledges that, for him, it’s probably only been a few days since he led an alien invasion of New York that left many dead, though due to TVA shenanigans, far more time may have passed.

For that matter, Mobius is not the stainless hero he once thought of himself as. While he and Sylvie are tooling around the Void in a pizza delivery car (because of course they are), he admits that he committed a lot of sins by believing that the ends justified the means, and was wrong. He doesn’t know who he is before the TVA stole and factory rebooted him, but he knows that he wants something better for himself and the universe, and takes the stolen TemPad to open up a portal to his own workplace in hopes of tearing down the TVA once and for all. Before he goes, though, he and Loki share a hug that feels a lot more poignant than it should, given that these characters have only spent parts of four episodes of TV together. It’s a testament to Hiddleston, Wilson, Waldron, and company (Tom Kauffman wrote this week’s script) that their friendship felt so alive and important in such a short amount of time.

The same can be said for Loki and Sylvie’s relationship, however we’re choosing to define it. Though they briefly cuddle together under a blanket that Loki conjures, they move no closer to romance than they were already. If anything, Mobius’ accusations of narcissism in last week’s episode seem to have made both of them pull back a bit from where they seemed to be heading back on Lamentis. But the connection between them is real, whatever exactly it is. And their ability to take down Alioth — to tap into the magic that Classic Loki always had, and to fulfill Loki’s belief that “I think we’re stronger than we realize” — by working together is inspiring and joyful. Without all this nuanced and engaging character work, Loki would still be an entertaining ride, but it’s the marriage of wild ideas with the human element that’s made it so great.

Of course, now comes the hard part. Endings have rarely been an MCU strength, give or take something like the climax of Endgame, and the finales of the two previous Disney+ shows were easily their weakest episodes. The strange, glorious, beautiful machine that Waldron and Herron have built doesn’t seem like it’s heading for another generic hero/villain slugfest, but then, neither did WandaVision before we got exactly that. This one feels different so far, though. The command of the story, the characters, and the tone are incredibly strong right now. There is a mystery to be solved about who is in the big castle beyond the Void (another Loki makes the most narrative and thematic sense to me, but we’ll see), and a lot to be resolved about what happens to the TVA and our heroes. And maybe there’s some heavy lifting that has to be done in service to the upcoming Dr. Strange or Ant-Man films.

It’s complicated, but on a show that has handled complexity well. Though even if the finale winds up keeping things simpler, that might work. As Loki notes while discussing his initial plan to take down Alioth, “Just because it’s not complicated doesn’t mean it’s bad.” Though as Kid Loki retorts, “It also doesn’t mean it’s good.”

Please be good, Loki finale. Everything up to this point deserves that.

Some other thoughts:

* Most of this week’s most interesting material happens in the Void. But the scenes back at the TVA clarify a few things. First, Ravonna is not the mastermind of all this, and she was very much suckered in by the Time-Keeper robots. But unlike Mobius or Hunter B-15, she’s so conditioned to the mission that even knowing it’s a lie hasn’t really swayed her from her mission. She has Miss Minutes (who herself is much craftier this week) looking into files about the creation of the TVA, but for the most part comes across as someone very happy with a status quo where she gets to be special and pass judgment on the rest of the multiverse.

* Alioth first appeared in 1993’s Avengers: The Terminatrix Objective, a miniseries (written by Mobius inspiration Mark Gruenwald, and with some extremely kewl Nineties art full of shoulder pads, studded collars, and the like) involving Ravonna, Kang, and the off-brand versions of Captain America, Iron Man, and Thor (aka U.S. Agent, War Machine, and Thunderstrike, the latter of whom has yet to appear in the MCU). It’s a sequel to a Nineties crossover event called Citizen Kang. And no, I still don’t buy that Kang will be the one pulling the strings here, if only because it’s really bad storytelling for the big bad of the season to have never appeared or even been mentioned prior to the finale.

* Rather than try to identify every Easter egg visible in the Void’s terrain, I’ll instead highlight three of the most interesting. Right before the Lokis arrive at the hatch, we see a helicopter with Thanos’ name on it. This is a hat tip to an infamous — and often memed — out-of-continuity story where Thanos flies this chopper while trying to steal the Cosmic Cube (aka the Tesseract) from Hellcat. (A little kid gets his hands on it instead and, of course, uses the Cube to conjure up free ice cream.) James Gunn has been agitating for years for the Thanos Copter to be in the MCU. He finally got his wish.

* The other funny one: When the camera pans down the tunnel into Kid Loki’s headquarters, we see Mjolnir buried in the ground, and right below it is a jar containing a very annoyed frog in a Thor costume. This is either Thor himself — whom Loki cursed into amphibianhood in a memorable Walt Simonson storyline — or another character named Simon Walterston (note the backwards tribute to Walt) who later assumed the tiny mantle.

* Also, in one scene you can spot Yellowjacket’s helmet littering the landscape. This might support the theory that the TVA, the Void, etc., all exist in the Quantum Realm, since that’s where the MCU version of Yellowjacket probably went when his suit shorted out and he was crushed to subatomic size. Or it might be more trolling of the fanbase from the company that had WandaVision fans convinced that Mephisto, the X-Men, and/or Reed Richards would be appearing by the season finale.

* Honestly, I would have watched an entire episode that was just Loki, Mobius, and the others arguing about whether Alligator Loki was actually a Loki, or just a gator who ended up with the crown, presumably after eating a real Loki. The suggestion that the gator might be lying — and that this actually supports, rather than undermines, the case for him being a Loki — was just delightful. And hey, if Throg exists in the MCU now, why not Alligator Loki?

* Finally, the MCU films in general are not exactly known for their visual flair, though a few directors like Taika Waititi and Ryan Coogler have been able to craft distinctive images within the franchise’s usual template. Loki, though, is so often wonderful to look at, and particularly when our heroes are stuck in strange environments like Lamentis or the Void. Director Kate Herron and the VFX team work very well together to create dynamic and weird imagery like Sylvie running from Alioth, or the chaotic Loki battle in the bowling alley. Between this show and WandaVision, it appears the Disney+ corner of the MCU has a bit more room to expand its palette. (Falcon and the Winter Soldier, much less so.)