#and that's not a judgemental statement it's just the truth. so it's cool to see dance being treated as an art in this mv rather than just

[linoguy]

dance as expression ily.................

[cry-stars]

Komaeda and Dementia: Part 1 of 5: Introduction and Overview of FTD

Hi everyone!

I’m an aspiring Komaedologist with an interest in dementia. I often see people doubting Komaeda’s stated diagnosis of frontotemporal dementia, since it presents differently in him than in the common portrayal of dementia in the media. While his portrayal may not be completely accurate, there is a lot of truth to it, and there are many symptoms visible in-game. I wanted to share a few posts about dementia symptoms that we do see canonically in Komaeda’s portrayals in SDR2 and DR:AE, and share some information regarding his specific diagnosis as opposed to Alzheimers, for example.

I work with people living with dementia as a recreation worker. This means that I see them living their daily lives, and know about difficulties they might have with recreational or day to day activities. There are a lot of observations that I might make that can’t be backed up scientifically yet, but do make sense in a practical way. Everyone with dementia is different, and since I work with seniors for the most part, some observations won’t transfer onto Komaeda. However, I’ll do my best to back up whatever I can with sources.

This post is just for fun and to give people ideas. It means a lot to me to see a fascinating and endearing character like Komaeda portrayed with dementia, since it is a sad and terminal disease, and I usually see it end badly in my job, so I hope to give people ideas on how to portray it, or just to notice things in a different way they might not have before!

My main sources for this post and the following ones include “Dementia Diaries,” which is a really cool project where people with dementia talk about their experiences, National Institute on Aging, Alzheimer’s Association, Alzheimer’s Society, and my own work experience. I plan on doing more posts about specific symptoms that we see in Komaeda later, but I would be happy to hear from other people who have dementia knowledge, or to answer any questions that I can.

For the most part, I'm only going to be talking about SDR2 and a little bit of DR:AE. I haven't finished watching the anime yet and have not read any of the manga. If anyone has ideas from any of those sources, I would love to hear about them!

Overview of FTD: Which Variant does Komaeda Have?

There are two major forms of frontotemporal dementia. The first, which Komaeda likely has, is the behavioural variant (BvFTD), which is also the most likely for young people to develop. This variant of FTD mainly affects behaviour, empathy, judgement, and planning.

Komaeda is less likely to have the other variant of FTD, primary progressive aphasia. This form of FTD mainly affects language skills, including speech and comprehension.

Komaeda doesn’t seem to have very much trouble with understanding the concrete content of what people say to him, but he does occasionally seem to have trouble fully comprehending hidden meanings behind statements (for example, taking statements literally rather than as sarcastic). To me though, this is less connected to him not being able to understand the words or content of statements, and more not picking up on the emotions hidden in the statements (which I’ll address more in the behavior post). He does seem to have some trouble with word-finding in the Japanese version of the game, but again, it doesn't inhibit his ability to express himself given enough time to speak.

Another thing to note about FTD is that, in its early stages, it mainly affects behaviour and language processing, as stated above, rather than memory. In later stages, memory does start to be affected as well, but it’s different from Alzheimers (probably the most well-known form of dementia) in that memory loss isn’t the main symptom.

FTD’s prognosis is about 6-8 years. Komaeda states in his fifth free time event that his life expectancy is between half a year and one year. However, he is also referring to his lymphoma diagnosis, meaning he expected to die from a combination of both illnesses within that time frame. In SDR2, Komaeda is probably in the early to middle stages of FTD, since he was diagnosed right before entering Hope’s Peak, and was a Remnant of Despair for some time without treatment, so while we can see evidence of memory issues (which I will address in another post), it’s something he’s able to cope with and isn’t a debilitating symptom yet.

One more observation: while dementia as a whole is usually seen in elderly people, Komaeda’s specific frontotemporal dementia diagnosis has an earlier age of onset, usually between ages 40-65, and is rarely seen in elderly people. Even though being diagnosed in high school seems unlikely, it is not impossible. According to Alzheimer Society Canada, early-onset or young-onset dementia (between ages 18 and 65) accounts for 2-8% of all dementia cases.

Thank you for reading! I plan on making five posts total. The other post topics will be Outward Behaviour, Judgement/Thought Processes, Other Symptoms, and Writing Ideas.

[burnbeforepod]

"Dear Señor Admin" by Christina Kann

Dear Señor Admin:         

i see you standing

in the middle of a high school hallway

looking around at the teenagers

this is it

this is what we're all coming to

the freshmen

up by their lockers

the girls' skirts six inches wide

the guys cussing && hitting on girls

pretending they're so much older than they are

that's the most immature action of all

the stoners by the elevator

baggy pants

tight shirts

hanging off one another

more baby more

more sex

more weed

more everything

it'll never be enough

they'll never be enough

wasting away their minds && their lives

so much they could be brilliant at

down the drain

&& rolled up in a joint

in their respective departments

the band nerds

the artists

the computer geeks

classified

made what they are by the judgements of others

what if they just want to be someone?

make something?

down the hall a bit

are the other kids

scene

emo

whatever they're called now

victims to a ridiculous trend

a trend that started by making depression fashionable

then turned into a revolution         

oh, what a revolution

what a revolution where "emotional" is a fad that comes && goes

where cutting is a fashion statement

where you either ARE

or you AREN'T

&& if you're anywhere in the middle

there's no place for you

&& the preps aren't girls from prep school anymore

preps are girls with low self-esteem

&& guys who know it

kids who don't have a definition

but want one more than anything

they look for thrills

parties

&& relationships

but it's all for nothing

because it can't mean anything to you

when you don't mean anything to yourself

&& on the completely untouched end of the spectrum

are we kids by the wall

you call us your "social outcasts"

we're not good enough for a clique

not good enough for you

what with our non-comformist ways

and our ridiculous obsession with individuality

we're so individual that we manage to think for ourselves

we do what we want

because we want to

not because it's cool

or to fill our meaningless lives

because we know

our lives are the most precious things we have

besides each other

we love each other

we make you nervous with our love

how dare we hug each other in your presence?

how dare we act like we love one another half as much as we actually do?

how dare we have fun?

this is a school

not a dance floor

not a whore house

not a party

not a bedroom

when we're the ones with love minus sex

they're the ones with sex minus love

but the truth is

we're just a bunch of kids

wanting to know what this thing we call "life" is for

so, sorry, señor admin

when we don't follow your "no love" laws

because

you know what?

love

is more important than anything we'll ever learn in school

it's what those fuckups you cherish as your future are lacking

it's what's going to save us

&& yet    

it's the one thing we'll never have enough of

so

señor admin

stop bitching at us for wanting to love and be loved

&& start bitching at them

for not

because

we're the only kids

who actually know what love is

so thank you for your attention

señor admin

[moosahcreates]

I am most pained cause I swear I mean no harm through all this. I’m 100 being truthful. Come on it’s Okufinval. How can he even match up to you??? How?. I’m not fighting you for him, this is just me trying to work around how to not continually have to work around wet shells when a 3rd party well meaning person is involved with us. Fine you’ve said you don’t feel comfortable with them, I could shut them off and never engage them with them BUT where and when will this end cause this was you with almost everyone WE ARE cool with now. So if I have cut them off when you stated you weren’t comfortable with them back then would we have them as friends now?

I’m not fighting you for this boy, I just need you to stop being uncomfortable everyday time there’s a 3rd party it seems I’m engaging with. It’s unfair to make me feel guilty, uncomfortable for doing absolutely nothing. But you don’t want to hear that, you just want to be listened and obeyed to in this case (cut them off) irrespective my assessment or judgement of the person. YOU didn’t disclose much about Kemi to me until minutes to seeing him, I didn’t hold a grudge irrespective how I felt I trusted your word that it’s nothing and let it be. But no, you must have your way as though I don’t feel uncomfortable too but hold your word about those people above how I feel.

I guess cause it works for me doesn’t mean it’ll work for you. Next time I’ll also automatically request you cut them off - SIMI, Ak, Kemi, Seyi, even Ayo, you intentionally left out you REMET on gridr, if the situation was spun you will never accept such a friendship to blossom. How don’t you see that you’re being unfair and selfish with your “I’m not comfortable” statements - you simply play that card to your own advantage whenever you feel like it.

So unfair, hypocritical and mind boggling. Gradually I’m seeing you for a person who plays mind games to puppeteer others to act how you feel.

[kob131]

basing your worldview on whatever group of random superstitions you grew up with is infinitely dumber than realize that supernatural things aren't real and living your life around that obvious assumption.

How do you know those 'superstitions' aren't real? What proof do you have that numerous other people with greater resources and putting in more effort than some nobody on Tumblr haven't found?

Furthermore, I don't think you actually understand the function of religion. Because you seem to believe that all religious people act as by the morals of their religion because of the existence of a deity instead of that being only a subsection of them while many others follow the religion because they believe the ethics it promotes to be right, which also implies that the deity ruling over the ethics is moral because they made those rules. Or it could be they just don't care and they find those rules moral by themselves.

This isn't anywhere near as deep as you can go on religion and its purpose by the way.

are YOU willing to ask yourself "if atheists are right, am i okay with the way i'm acting?" bc right now you've got posts on your blog trying to justify the murder of thousands of innocent people on religious grounds

Of course, everything I said ignores the fact that you are precisely the kind of person Roxy is talking about.

You are so sure of your beliefs, which MUST be beliefs because you CANNOT prove the absence of a deity, that you believe all your actions in the name of those beliefs must be moral and just. You don't consider that, maybe, a terrorist group dedicated to committing GENOCIDE might just use innocent civilians as meat shields while brainwashing them into believing they're dying for a righteous cause. That maybe this situation isn't black and white, that you are not so divinely perfect as to know the complete truth of the situation.

You are acting with the same irrational fervor that Urban II did when he called for the crusades and the return of the Holy Land. You simply worship a different entity.

the implication here is that some people dying justifies military actions to kill more than an order of magnitude more people, most of whom were unrelated to the initial killings.

Cool. This is not unique to religion. This is the basis for numerous wars throughout history.

this is a great example of how religious thinking clouds people's judgement and makes them unable to think or act in even the most basic moral ways, despite their claims.

Nothing about the above statement or anything that Roxy said is inherently religious. If you are reading a religious undertone to it- it's far more likely that you've adopted a radical ideology that can't accept peace or any kind of third option.

Perhaps you should follow your own advice and consider if perhaps the other side has a point.

god isn't real, and you will cease to exist when you die.

And here is where you'll likely be stonewalled and become unable to actually move past me.

This statement means nothing to me. I have long ago stopped caring about what kind of divinity that might exist thinks of me and I do not believe there is an afterlife. (Emphasis on believe).

I hold the same basic view as you. I am speaking as someone who sees things from roughly the same view as you.

Unlike you, I have actually considered that perhaps I might be wrong. That God might actually exist and that there is an afterlife. That I might be wrong. And I have always been open to the idea that if God told me why I was wrong and explained why he was just, I would accept it. Just as you preach, I act out and actually question myself. On just about everything.

It's kind of hellish. But it does help keep myself in check. And I find it better than whatever is going on with you.

why do you think it's acceptable to base your worldview on falsehoods? what's your justification for being religious?

Why do you think you're doing anything else but basing your worldview on falsehoods?

And this has nothing to do with if a giant beard in the sky exists or not, because that's irrelevant to this conversation.

The idea that I have a religion or don't is something you have no information on. It is a theoretical concept, to you unverifyable because you have done pretty much nothing to discern if it's true or not, or even to change your world view based on the evidence or lack thereof you've discovered.

Instead, you took it on faith that I must be, because to your personal dogma, only someone who believes in a god would disagree with how you behave.

I MUST believe in a divine being, or beings, or falafels controlling humanity from a secret moon base. Because otherwise, YOU'RE the asshole here.

[akingdomofswordsandstories]

Unrequited

azriel (acotar) x reader

Summary: takes place during acofas, you and Azriel are mates but he doesn’t know it yet, angst, fluff, and everything in between

*Also this is my first imagine ever so I'm sorry if it sucks lol! There will be a part 2 to this, but I am still working on it!!

word count: 3927

---------------------------------

The winter solstice was in a few days and you weren’t sure what to get some of the inner circle. You walked briskly down the streets of the Rainbow, chilled to the bone due to the wind. You had made the dumb mistake of rushing out of the townhouse - to avoid any questions of where you were going - without taking your scarf. Your current outfit, which was a chunky knit blue sweater with leggings and boots, wasn’t enough to keep the chill away. But the cold wasn’t the most important thing on your mind. You had already bought presents for Rhys, Feyre, Amren, and Elain, but that left Cassian, Mor, and Azriel. Mor and Cass would be pretty easy to buy for, but you put it off knowing they would look through your room trying to find their solstice gift. But Azriel, that would be much harder.

Every waking hour, the shadowsinger haunted your thoughts. Something you had come to conclude was unrequited.

You had realized the mating bond between you two before he did.

It had clicked a few months ago while on a diplomatic mission. The aftermath of Hybern had left things chaotic, and if you were being honest, it still was. Rhys decided to send Cassian, Mor, Azriel, and you to travel to some of the other courts to bring back reports on the recovery after the war. However, traveling did have some dangers. While you were on your way back to Velaris from the Winter Court, your group was ambushed by a group of Hybern soldiers who had been hiding out in the mountains. Had it not been for Azriel’s wings shielding you from the initial arrows, you would’ve surely been dead, and that’s when it clicked for you. But like an idiot, you didn’t say anything.

You had thought if the bond had clicked for you, it would've clicked for Azriel too. You realized your mistake when Azriel hadn’t acknowledged any change between you two. You hoped that he would figure it out in the coming weeks, but he didn’t. You knew the same sort of situation happened with feyre and rhys so you still held out some hope. But as the months went by, and you realized the bond still hadn’t clicked for Azriel and it felt too late to tell him.

At least that was the excuse you made up. Truly, you were also afraid of the rejection that could have followed. You weren’t a fool, you knew him and Elain had some sort of connection, and that shattered your dreams even more. The possibility that he wouldn’t accept the mating bond to be with the fair skinned, doe eyed fae. Everytime Azriel was in the same room as Elain, she was the only thing he would pay attention to. During gatherings, you would plaster on a smile and act as if you were happy, but Cassian and Mor, your best friends, could sense your discomfort. They tried to ask you about it, but seeing as you would shut down anything they said, they decided not to pry too much. Amren ended up figuring out the source of your discomfort had to do with Azriel, but kept your secret until you would be ready to share it.

You came to the conclusion that distancing yourself from him would be the best option, so that's what you did.

You walked down the street till you got to one of the finest seamstresses is Velaris. Since you were an artist like Feyre, you decided to draw out a dress and have it made for Mor. The color was blood red, her signature. It was a silk slip dress that would come down to her mid-lower calf and it would be embroidered with a brilliant gold thread. You drew out a pattern of the sun, stars, and moon, which you hoped she would like. To go along with Mor’s dress, you got a jeweler to make a custom necklace and bracelet set to go with it. You designed more dainty jewelry that had gold stars with diamonds, since she was a dreamer.

You decided to design Cassian’s gift as well, creating a beautiful silver and black dagger with a moonstone on the hilt. It was a beautiful dagger, but you also made sure it was usable, because you would hate for it to go to waste. To add onto the combat theme, you also decided to buy him new fighting leathers with touches of red embroidery to match his siphons. Lastly, you bought Cassian a bottle of fae wine, which definitely wouldn't last long.

The last thing you got for all three of you was a friendship necklace. Although that sounds corny, the two of them had become such a positive force in your life and you couldn’t imagine life without them. Keeping with the celestial theme for the friendship necklaces, you bought a sun, a moon, and a star. The sun for Cassian, the moon for Mor, and the star for you. Although they are opposites in some ways, all three need each other, just like the three of you needed each other.

Now that you had gotten Mor’s and Cassian’s solstice gifts figured out, it was onto Azriel’s gift. You honestly had no clue what to get him. Due to distancing yourself, you weren’t sure if there was something that he wanted. You were positively stumped. Lucky for you though, you ended up spotting Mor in another shop a few stores down from where you were, most likely getting the rest of her solstice gifts. You decided to sneak up on her as a friendly prank. Grabbing her shoulders, you yelled in her ear, making her jump.

“Oh mother above, it’s just you, y/n! You scared the life out of me” Mor said.

“Doing some last minute shopping?” you asked. “I could ask you the same thing”. Giving her a playful smack on the arm, the corners of your mouth curled upward, even the simplest remark from her could make you smile.

The two of you were currently standing in front of a jewelry shop, looking at the collections of necklaces and earrings through the window. “Wow” you breathed out “These are all so beautiful”

“Indeed they are, although they’re quite pricey”

“How pricey is pricey?”

She whispered the amount in your ear and you stopped breathing for a second, “Holy Mother wow, that is quite the price tag. At least we can admire it from a far”, you laughed out. Even though you got a very generous salary from Rhys, you still felt guilty spending so much money on materialistic things.

After a moment you said, “Actually, since you’re here, I do need help finding a solstice gift for Azriel”, softening your voice at the end, “Any ideas?” you asked, drawing out the syllables.

“Well, I always get Azriel some cool towels, clothing, or a dagger!” Mor said. A small scoff came out of my mouth as I shook my head and raised my eyebrows. “Fine!” she exclaimed, “I may have overheard him needing a new leather sheath for Truth Teller.” grumbling towards the end. “Oh that sounds great, thank you for the help! Now let’s go off to the closest leather goods store and find a sheath!”.

“y/n! I still have shopping to do” a scowl appearing on her face. “Fine, I guess I’ll just call Cassian, cause his judgement might be better than yours, when it comes to knife related things of course” you said, baiting her.

“Ugh, I hate you y/n”

“I hate you too Mor”

“Fine, let's get going before I change my mind” she grumbled. Then we took off down the streets of the Rainbow to find a sheath.

The task was easier said than done, for you at least. Being indecisive and a major over thinker, you had looked through close to 100 sheaths, but none of them seemed good enough to hold the blade that Azriel never let anyone else touch. Except Elain.

While you were lost in your thoughts, you laid your y/c eyes on the perfect sheath. It had a bright cobalt blue stitching to match Az’s siphons. Along the tip and lining the top of the leather was a thin coat of silver plating with little sapphires embedded in the metal. You quickly snatched it up and paid a hefty price for it, but it was perfect.

“Thank god you finally picked one, it felt like we were in that store for centuries”. Mor sighed, probably a sigh of relief for getting out of the store, “But y/n, it’s perfect, I know Azriel will love it”

“Do you really think so? I just want it to be the perfect gift and I’m scared he won’t like it because what if it’s too simplistic and what if-”

“Hey! It's perfect! Don’t stress too much y/n. And for the record, I think that you’re an amazing gift giver - the amount of thought you put into gifts make it all the better.”

You could feel a blush creeping up your cheeks and mumbled a small thank you.

“Anyway while we’re here do you need to get anything to go with your solstice outfit?”

“Oh Actually, I was so stressed about getting everyone’s solstice gift that I forgot to buy my dress” your voice falling off at the end. You felt yourself being yanked to a harsh stop and the saw Mor’s face staring at yours, mouth gaping and eyes wide.

“Are you crazy?? Solstice is in 3 days and you still don’t have anything??? Oh honey, our shopping isn’t done yet.” And with that statement you found yourself being pulled into the nearest dress shop. After trying on nearly 20 dresses you finally found the perfect one, which Mor approved. It was a light blue silk dress that was more fitted at the top but flared down at your waist. It had a cowl neckline, a slit going up the side to the mid upper thigh, and accentuates your curves beautifully and has a slight shimmer to it. You looked ethereal in it

---------------------------------

After your exhausting day of shopping, you couldn’t wait to get out of the cold. You swiftly walked back to the townhouse. Once inside you made your way to your room to set down the gifts, change your clothes, and grab your book. Then you quietly headed down to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea and sat on the couch to read. The house was quiet since all of the others decided to go to Rita’s tonight. You decided to stay home for some much needed relaxation. You opened your book and started reading. After a few hours, you felt your eyes drooping and eventually, sleep consumed you.

The loud noise of the front door caused you to stir and your eyes fluttered open. You were too exhausted to look so you just laid your head back down and tried to go to sleep. You could hear Mor whispering something and then felt yourself being lifted off the couch and being held close to a chest with your blanket still draped on you.

“Cass?” you whispered hoarsely along with a string of incoherent words

You heard a slight laugh “Not Cass but It’s ok, go back to sleep”. Then you felt yourself being gently placed on your bed and the sleep hit you before you could mutter a thank you.

---------------------------------

The sun was setting towards the sea as you sat in the sitting room of the town house. You were in your blue silk dress with a glass of wine in your hand. Rhys and Feyre were by the mantel, quietly talking while Mor and Amren were across the room. Near the window I saw Elain, and from the corner of my eye I could see Azriel making his way towards her. My face fell but I quickly plastered on a smile, not wanting to concern anyone. Especially since today was also Feyre’s birthday and we had planned a surprise for her. Feyre thought she could slip her birthday past us, but we hadn’t forgotten. After a few minutes, Cassian made his way from the kitchen with the enormous cake.

You floated towards Feyre and gave her arm a light squeeze. “Happy Birthday, make a wish before the candles melt!”

She blew out the candles and then we ate cake before opening up the presents.

---------------------------------

Rhys snapped his fingers and piles of brightly wrapped bags and boxes filled up the sitting room. Amren was the first to open her presents. Naturally, everyone got her something jewelry related. Amren opened mine and you saw a wide smile set across her face, she picked up the diamond necklace and nodded a ‘thank you’ your way. You returned the gesture back, a small smile forming on your face.

Next, Cassian handed Mor her present from him and she pulled out a-. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. He bought her red lingerie. Your face turned slightly red, but the Mor said “Don’t let him fool you: he couldn’t think of a damn thing to get me, so he gave up and asked me outright. I gave him precise orders. For once in his life, he obeyed them.”

Then, you heard one sharp knock at the door.

Nesta.

You saw Cassian tense up a bit. Nesta walked in, linking arms with Elain. She got a glass of wine before heading to sit in a chair in the back of the room. The silence was deafening. Finally Varian started talking and the present opening resumed.

From Amren, you received a new calligraphy set. It was so beautiful and you loved it. From Rhys, you got some books. It was perfect since you loved to read, and they were ones that you had been wanting to read for a long time. From Feyre, you received a painting as well as a new paint brush kit.

Cassian made his way to you and set a gift down in your lap. You opened the dark blue box that Cassian had placed in your lap. He had gotten you a sky blue hardbound journal with a gold embossed star on it. You desperately needed a new one, and this was perfect. You walked over and gave him a hug, whispered “Thank you, I love it.”.

Next you opened Mor’s present. You nearly choked when you saw what she got you and your whole face heated up. She got you a matching navy blue lingerie set like the one Cassian bought her.

“Yeah, I wasn’t too sure what to get you so I thought we could twin”. You looked around the room and saw the others holding in their laughs. You could’ve sworn you saw a tinge of red on Azriel’s ears. You just smiled and mouthed a silent “I’m going to kill you, but thank you” at her.

There wasn’t anything from Azriel. Your heart twinged. Had you not been important enough? It was just a present you reminded yourself, fixing your composure before handing Cassian his present.

He ripped it open like an animal, squealing when he saw it. A promising reaction given the amount of thought you put into it.

“Did you design these? They look amazing!”

“Yeah, I’m glad you like it. It took a long time to figure out what to get for your dumb ass”

“You mean my cute ass”, you smacked his arm and then got up to give Mor her present.

You closely watched her reaction as she opened her dress and jewelry, a large smile spreading across her face.

“You really buy the perfect presents y/n, I love it”.

“Oh Cass, Mor. One more thing.” You pulled out the small boxes with the friendship necklaces and bracelets handing it to them. “This was just a little something extra I thought of, I hope you like it”. You knew you would have started stuttering and crying if you had said the meaning to them, so you just handed them notes instead. They read over them, eyes glossing over, and pulled you into a hug.

“This is the only time I’ll wear jewelry” Cass stated, causing you to chuckle

Then Mor said, “I am never taking this off” causing you to laugh again.

Finally, Azriel opened up his presents. He had opened up all the others. All that was left was yours and Elain’s gift to him. He found his way to your present first, opening it.

“A new sheath for Truth Teller. I heard you needed a new one” you quietly said.

He held your gaze and smiled, “Thank you, it's great”. Suddenly feeling exposed, you quickly gave him a nod.

Then he went to open Elain’s gift. “It’s a powder to mix in with any drink.” she said.

Silence.

Elain bit her lip and then smiled sheepishly. “It’s for the headaches everyone always gives you. Since you rub your temples so often.”

Silence again.

Then Azriel tipped his head back and laughed.

You hadn’t heard him laugh before, and mother above it was gorgeous. You had never heard a sound so deep and joyous, a sound which made your heart clench. A part of you wished you were the reason he was laughing. You forced on a smile and spent the rest of the night drinking away the slight pain in your chest.

You were exhausted by the end of the night, sitting on the couch with Cassian and Mor, Azriel and Rhys seated on the opposite side of you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw movement towards the door, and craned your head to see what was going on. It was Nesta making her way to the door. You felt the couch lift next to you.

Cassian. He had swiftly pushed past Feyre and went after Nesta. This wouldn’t end well.

---------------------------------

Cassian had come back quiet and brooding, walking straight to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of liquor. You got up off the couch and followed him straight into the kitchen.

“Cass, let’s take a walk, yeah?”

“I just took a walk”

“It wasn’t a question”. You grabbed a white shawl and his hand and led him outside. “What happened?”

“What’s there to talk about? It was like all the other times. Why did I have to fall in love with someone who doesn't even love me back. Who looks at me like the Illyrian born bastard I am. Who hates the idea of being in the same room as me.”

You grabbed Cass’ hand, lightly squeezing it. “Don’t say that. Nesta, she,” your voice stopping for a second “She’s different. The way she handles pain and copes is different. Give her time. She just needs time. I know how much that may pain you, but you can’t rush healing”

You pulled him into a hug

“And for the record, I know the feeling more than you know” you quietly said “unrequited love”, head pointed at the ground.

Cassian tilted his head down to look at you, his face painted with confusion. You could tell he wanted to know more, but didn’t want to pry too much.

You hesitated before continuing, not sure if you wanted to reveal your closely guarded secret. “I-“ your voice faltering, “I found my mate”. The words seemed to have rushed out of your mouth and tears pricked your eyes as you said that. After months of hiding it, you had finally gotten it off your chest.

Cassian stood shocked, staring at you. “You found your mate? And you didn’t think to tell any of us? How long ago was this”

“I-, I found out who he was around the same time Rhys sent us on that diplomatic mission. And I didn’t tell anyone because he doesn’t even know yet.”

“That was almost 6 months ago, and you didn’t say anything?”.

The tears had started flowing at this point, “I thought he would figure it out. But by the time I realized he wasn’t going to figure it out, it was too late. He had already set his eyes on someone else. And I know I could never compete with Elain, even if I am his mate.” the last part slipped out without you realizing.

“Elain? What does she-“ his eyes widening “Does that mean Az is-“

You slowly nodded, tears welled up, threatening to spill out.

“Oh, mother…”, he pulled you into a tighter hug and that’s when the gates broke. You couldn’t hold back your tears as you sobbed into Cassian's chest, his hand stroking your back.

you must have been there for 15 minutes before you realized the other might start getting suspicious. Regaining your composure, you dried your tears and tried, to the best of your ability, to hide that you had been crying.

Looking back at Cassian, you gave him a slight smile before muttering, “Thank you. I’m sorry for dumping that on you, but please promise me you won’t tell anyone. Please.”

“Of course y/n, and don’t apologize, if it makes you feel better, it helped to take my mind off of Nesta and my own problems, which I desperately needed” he chuckled out.

With the smile still on your face, you linked arms with Cassian before saying, “Oh mother above it’s freezing, let’s get back inside before we turn into popsicles!”

He let out another laugh before the two of you made your way back into the house.

---------------------------------

You walked into the house and your sliver of happiness was crushed as you saw Az and Elain sitting at the table smiling and laughing quietly to themselves. Elain had her sketchbook out, showing Az her plans for the garden.

Your distraught had been clear to anyone who saw your face, and you were too tired to realize you weren’t able to hide it fast enough. Not being able to view the scene anymore, you quickly got up, muttered happy solstice, and grabbed your coat and purse before heading out the door to your apartment.

While walking home, you were consumed by your thoughts. You hated the pangs of jealousy that coursed through you. You often found yourself jealous of her soft spokenness and kindness. You also found yourself jealous of her effortless beauty. It was something that kept you up at night. She was so likeable and easily approachable, something you wished you were.

You were so drowned in your own thoughts that you hadn’t noticed a male following you till it was too late. One of his hands clamped on your mouth while the other grabbed your waist and pushed you into the nearest alleyway.

The male pulled out a knife and your tears started to fall. You were terrified about what he would do to you. This could be the last time you would have seen your family. You were struggling and kicking against him but it was no use. Your senses were groggy from the alcohol and drowsiness.

You had been so stupid to walk home alone at 2 in the morning. No matter how angry you were, you should’ve just stayed at the town house.

Before you could realize what was happening, you felt a sharp pain shoot through your side.

The sound of a clatter.

Receding footsteps.

A crimson stain blooming.

Your body crumpled to the ground and your vision started blacked out. This was it. Nobody could hear you and nobody could save you.

[checkingoutforheroes]

B.A.B.Y PROTOCOL.

Part 2.

Avengers x fem!reader 

Pt.1

Words: 1892

Synopsis: This takes place in Avengers: Age of Ultron. When The Avengers were at the rock bottom, Nick Fury and advised by Maria Hill, to initiate the B.A.B.Y Protocol. Will a young, damaged and broke girl agree to this initiative and help a team to save this planet earth?

Main Masterlist 

Maria and Fury bring you to The Avengers tower for mission briefing and meet the rest of the team. To be honest, you are beyond excited you see the building. You move from your seat to another, looking out of the window, facing the tower. Maria looks at you at the rear view mirror, seeing your awe face and smile. “If you open that window, I might’ve mistaken you with a dog.” You ignore her comment and ask them “Is this S.H.I.E.L.D? You guys work here? You build this place papa Bear? This is taller than I thought it would be!”

Fury look at you and then Maria “Now she’s excited.” Maria answer your question. “That is Avengers tower. S.H.I.E.L.D no longer exist. Burn to the ground.” You didn’t keep up about them after left the agency so you don’t know what happened. “What happened? Did this moody papa Bear show his emotion through action?” You let out a small laugh until Fury annoyed “Once again you call my name other than Fury, I’ll burn you too.” “Nahh, you’re not going to burn me. You need me. Otherwise, I’m not in this car right now. I said to him and Maria drive through the parking basement. “She got you, boss.”

Fury walk ahead to their meeting room. You stop your track when you see an aquarium placed at the wall. You never see something like that before in your life. When Maria realize that you are not walking behind her, she turns back to get you. “What are you doing?” “Looking at these fish in an aquarium stuck on the wall. How they do that? How they going to feed the fish? Rich people shit, quite awesome.” You said and Maria just shake her head. “We have a world crisis and the first thing you did is watch the fish?! Are you kidding me? Let’s go meat the team.”

 Meanwhile Fury already told the team about a new protocol or whatever. You didn’t hear that clearly until you are inside the room. Fury talk to them. “Since all of you are here, including Maximoff, I have a new protocol that you can use.” Steve looking confusing at Fury. “We already made a plan.” Tony interrupt to teasing Steve “Yeah and a good ted talk by the captain too.” Natasha asking about the protocol. “Do we know about the protocol?” Fury take a seat “No, Romanoff. No one knows about this protocol except Agent Hill. This protocol was created to help the team when in need, and this team clearly need it right now.” Steve ask him. “What protocol is that?” Natasha looking at Clint and he shrug. “B.A.B.Y PROTOCOL.” Tony just laugh while Steve have a serious face looking at him. “I’m sorry. That’s kinda funny name for a protocol.” Maria open the door and you both going in. All eyes on you and you feeling slightly nervous. How can you not, they are The Avengers! You recognize all of their face except one person wearing black dress and red cardigan.  

Fury introduce you to the team. “Right on time. Avengers, I introduce you B.A.B.Y PROTOCOL, as in Best Associate By Yours truly.” Maria added “Also, we call her Baby.” They are quiet and shock appear in their faces except two people. Natasha and Clint. They go greet you. “Baby!” Natasha walks to hug you while Tony look at you two weird. “Nat! Omg, I miss you. Clint! Miss you too!” You hug Clint and he hold your head. “Well, she grows up.” “Yeah, with some food and water, I did. Man, you’re old.” You said to him and Natasha smile “Kids growing, Barton.” “Natasha, beautiful as always. You have to drop your skin care routine, sis.” Tony interrupt the moment “You both knew her? Fury, you said no one know about this protocol.” Fury nods. “I said no one know about this protocol not that Romanoff and Barton didn’t know her.”

Steve starts asking question. “How old are you?” Tony interject again. “Yeah. You don’t look like a baby to me.”

             You looking back at Steve, smirk on your face. “How old are you?” Maria sign you to behave. “Baby.” Tony sit down at one of the chair. “I like this kid already!” He earns a glare from Steve and you apologizing “I’m sorry. That’s not a good first impression. I’m 22.”

“What is your name?” Damn he is a serious one.

             “People call me Baby.”

“What people didn’t call you?”

             “If they didn’t call me? Silence, I guess.” You whisper at Natasha left ear “Can I not tell them my name?” She crooks a little smile. “It’s up to you.” “I prefer being call by that name that Maria & Fury has told you or anything you want except my real name due to personal reason.” You nod and smile at them.

“Why? Dark past? Major criminal? Wanted by CIA? Interpol? MI6? Ugly name? Kicked out of family or something?” Seriously, how can they work as a team with a guy name Tony Stark? Maria, Natasha and Clint have your back.

“She’s here to help us. Nothing else, Stark.” Maria said to him.

Natasha glare at him. “I suggest you stop right there or you’re not going to see any sunlight.”

Clint agree with them. “Leave her alone man.” Tony look guilty. “Everybody in this room has dark past. I’m just curious, not judging. She’s not alone.” Wanda tell them that he told the truth. “He’s not lying.” “Thank you Wendy. Peace?” You walking toward him “No heart feeling.” You guys fist bump each other.

Steve ask again. “How do you know Barton and Romanoff?”

             “While I was in S.H.I.E.L.D Academy, which I thought a Juvenile school at first, they trained me combat espionage. Since that’s the only thing on my expertise. I wish to have Jemma Simmons and Leo Fitz brain though. They’re genius in bio-chem and engerneering.”

“Why you thought it was juvenile at first? You commit crime?”

             “Duh.” Both you and Tony said it at the same time and again “JINX!” Natasha look at Steve. “Relax captain, all of us commit crime back then.” “I didn’t” Tony look at him. “Are you sure about that?” “What do you mean Stark?” Steve ask and he say “You literally cheated your medical checkup to join the army.” “I did it to protect our country.” Steve said and Clint chuckle “Still crime.” Fury tell Maria to handle the briefing and he’s out. You ask where is he going? “Where is he going?” “He have another thing to do Baby.”

             “I know most of you but I don’t think I know or seen you, Mr. ?” You ask and Natasha introduce him. “That is Dr. Bruce Banner.”

             You shake his hand. “Nice to meet you. What did you do?”

Bruce seems like to hesitate to answer that. “You didn’t know? New York?”

             “Alien? Chitauri?” You ask him back innocently.

“Um. I’m, the big green guy.” He anxiously answers that.

             “An ogre! Wow, that is so cool!” Clint hold my shoulder. “The other green, buddy.” “Oh, I know. I’m sorry, I forgot your ogre name is Shrek. Still cool though. I watch all of his movies when I was a kid. Maybe we can watch it again sometimes.”

Bruce look at Natasha and then back at you. “That’s, not me either, but yeah, we can watch that, big green cartoon sometimes.” Tony finally tell you who he is. “You seriously don’t remember who broke New York kid? He’s The Hulk!” Bruce looks down and tilt his head to look at Tony. “Yes. I’m that! Thank you for bringing back memory, Tony!”

             You feel guilty for not remember that. “Gosh, I’m so sorry. But hey, New York already broken before you broke it. Can I have a selfie? You’re incredible.” You snap the picture before he even answers. Tony said something “I’m literally right here. The coolest guy in the group.” You turn your head to the girl in black dress, red cardigan. “And you are?”

She answers with a thick accent “Wanda Maximoff.”

             “You’re not from here? You have an accent just like Nat. Well, once she’s mad at me during training years ago.” You remember the detail and Natasha rolls her eyes at you. “That is one time. I slipped.” “Human make mistakes sis. You aren’t machine.”

“I just got here yesterday. I made a mistake. Wrong judgement, I want to make it right. I join them.” She explains and you currently melting, just to hear he talk. You want her to talk more so you can hear her talk. Thing is, you didn’t know that she can read mind. Where is that accent came from? Russian? You ask those questions in your head. “From Sokovia.”

             “Where are you from? What? I just ask-“

Maria answer my question. “She’s a telekinesis, energy manipulation and some kind of neuroelectric interfacing.” “Huh?” You don’t even know what that is and Maria make it simple for you. “Telepathic.” You turn to look back at her. “That is so awesome!” Tony huff at your statement. “Yeah, until she’s in your head.” She just looking down “I’m sorry.”

 Right after she said that, Thor, God of Thunder walk into the room and tell about the scepter. You are amazed and suddenly you bend the knee. “Oh. My. God. You’re Thor!” He looks back at you. “and you tiny female human.” “You. Are. the God of Lightning! I am a fan! No. I’m an air-conditioner.” He smiling, feeling proud. “Thank you, tiny human lady. It’s God of Thunder, actually. What’s an air-conditioner?”

Maria gives us final brief. “You guys might want to prepare something for tomorrow. We’re flying to Korea and find Dr. Chow tomorrow morning. Get some rest, sleep early, you guys need it.”

             You ask them a question. “Can I go back to my place, then come back? Clint can you take me?” “Yeah, I can.” Steve kind of not agree with you. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” “Why? I need to take my stuff.” “I can pick her up tomorrow.” You and Clint said and Steve ask you again. “Do you have a suit? or uniform?” You unzip your sweater and show your Donut Do It uniform. “Will, this do? Because someone decided that it was okay to give a surprise visit when I’m on my way to work.” Maria just smirking at you and Natasha smile “I don’t think that appropriate gear for the field.”

Tony offers you to stay with them at the tower. “Captain’s right. Don’t want to risk anything on the team member night before fight. Stay here, I’ve got plenty of room. Natasha can show you. They basically live here. We have spare shirts too.” You look at Wanda “You live here too?” She’s thinking about the answer. “I spend the night here.” Natasha turn you to look at her. “That’s a good idea. Just stay here tonight. Wanda’s here too.” “Natasha can show you your room, take a shower and dinner later.” Tony said. You look at Maria by the mention of dinner. She sighs “Okay, spaghetti and chicken wings.” Natasha add “And caramel pudding?” You smile at her “You remember?!” “Of course I do.” Clint jokingly say “How can she not, you guys practically sisters.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thank you for spending your time reading this. Feel free to reblog or ask me anything, thank you in advance!

Part 3 is coming!

[scuttle-buttle]

Chapter 10

WC: 1633

Rated: E

Chapter Tags: anxiety, angst, brief fears of infidelity, discussions of childbearing and marriage/gender roles, psych theories, some manipulation, age difference, brief mention of domestic violence (there is none)

A/N: If you have any questions regarding the tags for this chapter and want to ask me about it before reading please do so! The chapter is not necessarily dark but I understand that some may want me to give a more detailed warning/context. I want all my readers to be as comfortable as possible 💙

🧠

It started out small. He would bring up Dr. Stratton during conversation more and more often. Three times now he had been late to office hours, causing you to have to wait outside his room, nervously checking the time. But it’s nothing, you continue to remind yourself. They’re just good friends that haven’t seen each other in years. And you trust them both.

When another Friday night passed with Laszlo skipping drinks in favor of meeting with Karen, you decided to stay in as well. It had been a month since they reacquainted with one another. In those weeks you had seen less of him outside work. Your sex life was stagnating too, much to your annoyance. He had even canceled at the absolute last minute on a dinner date. Naturally, you had begun to feel a twinge of jealousy at his lack of attention. He kept saying it was work related. Nevertheless, the sullen temperament you'd adopted went unnoticed by the doctor. You felt foolish; you weren’t so needy that you had to make a big deal about it. So you said nothing on the issue.

You sat on the old couch in your apartment. Bitsy was getting ready to go out with Lucius for date night. Picking at your fingers, you decide to ask your roommate for advice. “Hey Bits?”

“Yeah?” she called from her bedroom.

“Can I ask you a question about Lucius?” you start.

“Sure, what’s up?”

You pause as you think of how to word your thoughts. “Do you ever, like, get jealous? When he hangs out with other girls I mean.” Her head pops out of the door frame as she finishes fastening her earring, eyebrows raised in question. “It’s just that Laszlo has been spending a lot of time with Dr. Stratton now that she’s back in town. I trust them and everything, but I’m starting to feel a bit left behind I guess…” you trail off.

“Oh honey, that's normal.” She waves a hand through the air as she speaks. “There’s this girl at the lab that Lucius works with and for the first month I was convinced she was trying to steal him away from me. Turns out she just wanted Marcus, his brother!” Bitsy lets out a cackle.

“Right…” you pick at the skin around your fingernails. “I just feel silly about it. I’m sure I’m overreacting to the whole thing, though. Laszlo would never do anything, and I don’t think Dr. Stratton would either,” you remind yourself outloud. "There's just this thing John said to me about them having a past and I can't get it out of my head."

“It's not silly.” Bitsy had moved further into the bedroom, causing her voice to be slightly muffled. “But if it bothers you that much, talk to him about it. He’s a psychologist, it’s kinda his job to understand emotions and things like this. And if he loves you like you say he does then he’ll put a bit more effort into giving you his attention.”

You marinate on what she’s told you. Bitsy is right, if it bothers you that much then you need to bring it up with him. Be an adult, use communication, and all that. “Why’re you always right and level-headed about everything?”

“Someone’s gotta be, with a hot head like you,” she snarks. Her phone buzzes letting her know her date is downstairs. With a squeeze on the shoulder she bids you goodbye, telling you to let her know if you need anything.

_

The atmosphere in Dr. Stratton’s office felt off. What was usually so open and warm had felt forced and awkward. You were still ignoring the guilt of your jealousy at the doctor. She wasn’t as talkative today, unlike usual. Instead, it was strictly business. You chalked it up to her having an off day.

The two of you discussed in more depth the fetishes and kinks from the list you had compiled. Unfortunately, due to spending less time with your boyfriend the last few weeks you hadn’t had much of an opportunity to try any of the new tricks you were learning about. Therefore, you had little to really talk about in that regard. You found that you didn’t particularly mind, as you were feeling less inclined to want to share about your love life due to your envy towards the woman in question.

Dr. Stratton quietly gathered together her notes from the session and placed them into the folder. You were about to ask if she needed anything else from you when her lips parted before closing again. She leaned forward on her desk towards you. Her fingers steepled under her chin.

She licks her lips. “There is something I wish to discuss with you unrelated to the study.”

You didn’t like where this was going. Dread pooled in your gut at the concerned look on her face. “O-okay.”

“Now I want you to understand that I only bring this up out of concern for your wellbeing and emotional health. But some of the things you have told me over the course of this study have me worried.”

What on earth could you have said that would cause this sort of reaction from her? She was the most calm and collected person you had ever known. To have her speaking out made your heart race in your chest.

She takes a moment to gather her thoughts before opening her mouth again. “In truth I worry about your current relationship. I fear that-”

Brows furrowing, your mind goes to the worst conclusion. You blurt out “what? No! He doesn’t hurt me or anything, I don’t know what would have given you that impression but I- ”

The doctor reaches out with her hand to settle on your forearm. “My dear take a breath, I meant no such thing.”

You take a deep inhale to compose yourself. “Then what are you talking about?”

“Speaking as your friend, and as an alienist, I fear that this boyfriend is potentially using you for your youth,” she begins the tale she concocted, unbeknownst to you. “In my experience as a psychologist, the young women such as yourself that I encounter with significantly older male companions find themselves locked into the relationship. Typically, it is from dependence on money at first. Over time, the male pressures the woman to be compliant in things like marriage and childbearing. I understand how difficult it is for a woman as driven as you to balance your aspirations with relationships and domestic matters. Do you want children?”

Her statement and question take you back. Confusion is written all over your face. Marriage? Children? Neither you nor Laszlo had ever brought up either subject. You didn’t even know if it was something he was interested in. “Wait what? I'm not sure I follow…”

“Men around his age go through an identity crisis in which they begin to become aware of their mortality. A change in priorities. The most common desire is to procreate, to start a family in which to pass on their wisdom is strongest here. Are you prepared to give him children soon? Of course there is nothing wrong with wanting to be a mother, it is a very noble role. Yet you do not strike me as someone ready for such a large step.”

You can barely form a coherent thought at her onslaught. The whole conversation was so out of the blue that you felt incredibly lost. Did you want children? Did he want children? Now? You wrap your arms around your torso to stave off the uncertainty and anxiety you feel creeping in. No words come to your defense at her interrogation. You are speechless, jaw dropped.

She stands and crosses the room, placing her cool hands on your cheeks. “My dear you are still a child yourself. This is something you need to consider. To… consider the possibility that you can’t give him what he needs. That he may need someone closer to his age with the same priorities, someone more willing to give in to his needs now. I don’t think you’re ready for that. I’ve seen the cost that these girls face. And the societal pressures and judgement you would face being with someone so much older? I think it could throw you into a state similar to after your friend passed. I wouldn’t want to see you in that position again. I want you to have your freedom."

Dr. Stratton looks up at the clock suddenly; “oh! My, I’m going to be late for a meeting, you’ll have to go. I don’t believe we need any more sessions for the study, but I will let you know if anything changes.”

You are too in shock trying to process everything she said to you as she ushers you out of the door with a “think about what I said, dear.” The door shuts behind you.

Karen sat with a huff. She felt a tad guilty for what she had said to you. She had no idea if Laszlo wanted marriage or children, he hadn’t when they were first together. But times change. She hoped that by using the angle of kids and identity crises that she could subtly plant a seed of doubt in your mind. Strike quickly and overwhelmingly, plant the doubt that you weren’t right for him, then push you out before you have the chance to seek answers or reassurance from her. It seemed you bought her false concern as actual worry. You were a great girl. But you were just that - a girl. You couldn’t give Laszlo what he needed, not like she could.

Now she simply had to wait and let your mind eat away at itself, leaving him for the taking.

Tag list

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[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 20, part two

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff) (Previous Post)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

So much happens in this episode that I couldn’t stop the meta and had to break it in thirds. Part one is here, part three is here. 

Owie Owie Owie

Wen Zhuliu takes exquisitely tender care of Wen Chao, despite presumably disliking him quite a lot. He wipes his tears away, saying that the tears will infect his wounds, which...isn't likely, but ok. 

I will note that he didn't get the "no sting" kind of medicine, however, so maybe there's a limit to his kindness.  Wen Chao screams and yells at him while he puts a tiny amount of medicine on one tiny spot of owie. It's going to be a long night for these fellas. Except it isn't because they're going to die, so at least they won't have to put more medicine on.

The candles blow out and we hear the sound of a flute, which Wen Zhuliu hilariously says is just the wind when Wen Chao starts freaking out. They have two days to go before they get to safety, and Wen Chao is pretty sure he's not going to last two days. And you know...he's right!  

As usual he blames Wen Zhuliu for the situation, but then gets afraid that WZL is going to leave him, and starts making promises of status. WZL says that's not necessary. He is a loyal sonofabitch, I'll give him that. 

The Man Comes Around, Redux

And now Wei Wuxian enters the scene, climbing menacingly up the stairs carrying his own hair fan, just like Lan Wangji did in the previous episode. (Gifset here). Wen Zhuliu doesn't look optimistic. When the boys on the roof see Wei Wuxian they don't look too happy either.

Wei Wuxian stops in front of Wen Zhuliu and proceeds to have a philosophical conversation with him. Wei Wuxian has come to fuck your shit up, but he has also come to pass judgement on your ethics because he is, fundamentally, still himself. 

Wen Zhuliu takes the opportunity to justify his actions, giving a heartfelt statement about what he owes to Wen Ruohan. Wen Zhuliu knows his number is up and that they obviously didn't kill Wei Wuxian hard enough, but he still feels righteous.

(more after the cut)

Here Wei Wuxian asks a question that shows the fundamental difference between himself and Wen Zhuliu. In many ways they are similar: neither of them was born into their clan. Both were appreciated by the clan leader and placed in high positions. Both feel an obligation to those clan leaders. When Wei Wuxian asks "why do other people have to pay for your gratitude?" he's foreshadowing the moment when Jiang Cheng demands the death of the Dafan Wens.  

Wen Zhuliu doesn't hesitate to murder people because his clan leader wants him to. Whereas Wei Wuxian doesn't hesitate to pay a terrible price--his golden core-for his gratitude to Jiang Fengmian. But he won't let the Dafan Wens pay the price of his continued membership in the Jiang clan; he chooses exile while Wen Zhuliu chooses murder.

Wei Wuxian is done talking and very very slowly brings his flute into position and starts to play. Wen Zhuliu doesn't make a move to stop him, but he might be frozen in place...everything happens at weird speeds in this scene.

Lan Wangji is super horrified when he sees what Wei Wuxian is doing with his flute. So horrified, in fact, that by the time they are face to face, he's moved past any other emotion.

Lady in Red

As Wei Wuxian plays the flute, the camera moves around him (or they spin him on a turntable) and the scenery around him shifts to a 360 view of...the burial mounds! That's so fucking cool! 

You can take the boy out of the graveyard but you can't take the graveyard out of the boy. He is carrying it within him now.

He summons up the hottest ghost lady ever, to scratch the shit out of the Wens with her fancy fingernails. She's all in red, not the dark Wen red, but super-saturated bridal red. 

She's not dressed as a bride, but she is very pretty and the color is awesome, particularly when she turns into red smoke. Presumably having actual ghosts attacking people is ok with the censor board as long as they are pretty ladies in nice clothes, since there are two in this episode and this one is absolutely definitely a non-corporeal being when she wants to be.

Camera Operator: What did I ever do to you?

She fights with Wen Zhuliu, who tries to put his core-melting hand on her, unsuccessfully, and then figures out that Wei Wuxian is the better target, so tries to put his core-melting hand on him. 

Wen Zhuliu, you need to have some different moves! Not everybody has a core for you to melt.

Zidian’s Revenge

As soon as Wen Zhuliu targets Wei Wuxian the boys break in from the rooftop, with Jiang Cheng snapping Zidian up over a rafter and down around Wen Zhuliu's neck in a single move, and then hauling him up and hanging him. 

This is a pretty gratifying moment; Jiang Cheng finally gets his vengeance using the weapon his mother gave him before this fucker killed her. He also gets to come back at the guy who melted his core and kill him with a spiritual weapon. All around nice work, Jiang Cheng.

Meanwhile, Lan Wangji initially placed himself between Wen Zhuliu and Wei Wuxian, which is a pretty strong show of devotion, given that his chest was directly in line with Wen Zhuliu's hand. 

He watches intently while Wen Zhuliu dies...Lan Wangji is actually a pretty vengeful guy, isn't he? He's not into torture but he seems to like executing bad people, and he enjoys chopping off arms a whole lot.

Welcome Back

Having disposed of Wen Zhuliu, Team Where The Fuck Have You Been is ready to greet Wei Wuxian. This is Lan Wangji as he prepares to turn around and face him. 

This is not "relieved that my soulmate is ok" or even "feeling betrayed because you didn't even send me a text." This is cold, hard, fury. He's plowed right past relief and joy into full on disgust and vehemence.

Jiang Cheng is also pissed at him, but he's so used to being pissed at him that it's not a remarkable emotion, and it passes quickly. He gives him his sword, calls him a prick, punches him in the shoulder while Lan Wangji looks grumpy Wang Yibo tries very hard not to smile, and fails. 

Then Jiang Cheng gives Wei Wuxian an enormous squishy hug. 

Wei Wuxian, who has probably wanted that hug for the past decade, does not return it, and looks stricken, eventually raising his flute hand behind Jiang Cheng's back.

Lan Wangji glares at him while Jiang Cheng hugs him, and then shifts to glare at the flute.

Let's talk about Lan Wangji's body language here. This scene is often talked about, including by OP, as "Wei Wuxian picks a fight with Lan Wangji in order to push him away." But since their very early days,Lan Wangji's nonverbal communication has been an essential component of his relationship with Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian has been reading his microexpressions from the very start, and he's the only one besides Lan Xichen who does that. 

Lan Wangji's anger and disapproval are written all over his face and posture, so much so that even a casual observer can tell what he's feeling.  For Wei Wuxian, with his extreme awareness and having shared actual literal telepathy with the guy previously, this has got to feel like Lan Wangji is screaming at him.

Lan Wangji is the one picking this fight. Wei Wuxian is trying to defuse it by giving him time to calm down before engaging. For perhaps the first time since meeting him, Wei Wuxian ignores Lan Wangji to focus on Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng asks him a bunch of questions and Wei Wuxian slides out from under most of them, giving half answers, non-answers, and what All The President's Men calls a non-denial denial.

Wei Wuxian, who is adept at sounding like he's speaking truth when he is lying, here sounds like he's lying when he's speaking something very close to the truth. He spins a particularly outrageous-sounding tale of finding a cave and learning an ultimate power there...but that's actually what he actually did, actually.  Xue Yang does this "lie so much that the truth now sounds like a lie" thing by accident, years later in Yi City, but Wei Wuxian is using it as a deliberate tactic to hide the truth from his brother. Which is basically his main occupation at this point.  

He acts offended that Jiang Cheng doesn't believe him, but he does it playfully to cast everything in the conversation as a joke.

Lan Wangji is not as inclined to accept utter codswallop as Jiang Cheng is, and he has already figured out an important underlying layer of the situation--the turn away from the way of the sword--while not seeing the very bottom layer, the "I don't have a golden core" layer.  

Unfortunately, he continues to be judgy and pissed off. He says "Wei Ying" gently enough, but his body is braced for conflict. 

Wei Wuxian looks at him wearily and stands up to have the fight Lan Wangji is asking for.

Maybe you were right But baby I was lonely I don't want to fight I'm tired of being sorry

I'm standing in the street Crying out for you No one sees me But the silver moon

Soundtrack: 1. Sympathy for the Devil, The Rolling Stones 2. Tired of Being Sorry, by Ringside

Writing Prompt: Who is the lady in red and what is her deal?

[practicalmagicintuitions]

Reading on HC

DISCLAIMER: If you will send me an Anon, I will answer in the same tone as your ask, opinion is written.

All information and statements made in this reading or any other post of mine are all alleged until proven to be fact and for entertainment purposes & usage only. All information stated is based on my intuition and my tarot cards. Opinion only. The readings have no intention to cause any harm to the individuals, people featured in it.

Disclaimer 2 : seems extra long reading to me, sorry for that. If there any typo sorry for that too, I wanted to post this today, so I typed like a mofo. 

Cards pulled on 15/07

What is happening now?

Devil rx Eight of Wands. 

On The Devil card, you can see the couple from the Lovers card chained together while The Devil is watching them. Those two cards are numerological counterparts ( The Lovers 6 The Devil is 15 = 1+5=6) so they have a connection but this is not limited to some romantic relationship. This card also deals with addiction, obsession, influences, control, illusion, materialism. And when the card is upright the pentagram is in the “wrong” position, it’s upside down. So when the card is reversed, the pentagram returns its correct position and becomes the protective symbol again. 

So The Devil rx means the chain falls off, it’s an opportunity to free yourself from those obsessive, addictive things which affect you. It's realising you have the power to change. But before you came to this realisation and urge to be free, you have to hit the rock bottom. I feel it’s important to say that in this question I haven’t asked about his romantic relationship, so it could mean changing a circle of friends or situations too. 

8 of wands is often called the cupid’s arrow or the falling in love card while it is more about infatuation and adrenalin rush. It’s also a fast-moving card. This card is also called the holiday love card.

So I see two possible options. One of them is he is ready to free himself from some bounding situation fast. And this freeing attempt makes him enthusiastic, cause some adrenalin rush and in this case, it means he is trying to free himself from infatuation. He wants rapid results.  The second option is that he is trying to free himself because there is another person, a third one if you like. 

HC+NV relationship now. 

Eight of Swords rx, Five of cups, The Sun rx. 

It’s very interesting to see those 3 cards together, I had to meditate on them a little bit longer.

With the 8ofSwrx I think he has a more realistic, clearer view on this relationship. I think this clarity cause great sadness and regret. (5ofC) Sun rx means the relationship is cooled down. 5ofC is a traditional bad relationship card. Not necessarily a breakup but definitely arguments and disharmony. Because this is about the relationship and because 8ofSWrx is about to break free, release, escape freedom (like the Devil rx) and the 5ofC has a breakup meaning, I think the relationship itself lost its warmth, burnt out. Maybe because the past events were too much or one of the parties is still crying over a “spilt milk” aka cannot let the past go, a past relationship perhaps. If this is about letting go of this current relationship with NV, it won’t be a lucky “escape”. It will bring sorrow, probably thinking about why this didn’t work? 

HC feelings, emotions

Judgement rx on top of it 7ofSwords

Judgment rx is about a difficult transition you are resisting or need time to adjust. It’s the refusal to hear the call. Delays, confusion, broken family units. etc. But because we have the 7ofSw on top of it ( and I mentioned before how I pay attention to the cards that fall on the others. This is only my method, maybe others don’t care but I do) I think he is seeking a way out about this situation he seemingly cannot let it go. But this card is an unsettling, shady, sneaky one. It brings dishonesty. Walking on eggshells, getting away with something, preparing for some action. Discomfort is the foundation of this card, it’s almost like you want to be truthful but cannot get what you want with honesty. This is the white lies, diplomatic approach to a situation. You know how he was compared to a politician, this is it basically. I feel this is the I cannot let go, but somehow I want to but my methods and ways won’t be honest and nice. For example when your partner is cheating you but too coward to admit it and accusing you of cheating. You fed up, break up with them, so they got what they want without being hones. That was just an example to describe the card, not the exact situation I saw here. 7ofSw is also means planning, mind games, tactics, being undercover etc. 

9ofWands, Page of Cups, Star rx, 2of Cups rx

He was defensive, he protected a young feeling which was a teen love type of emotion ( I remember I got this card ones how this relationship felt at the beginning and I think this was his card back then too) and probably this is why he feels he is stuck, he cannot let go because he was protective over this. And just left this doesn’t seem an option, not with a clear exit. (again, not whit honesty)

With the Judgment rx this again means, hard time to let it go. He feels he was committed to fight for and guard that young feeling (as we saw with his FO post ) but now he is hopeless (Star rx). He also feels he is constantly battling and this wears him out. Maybe that’s why a relationship seems to burn out. 

Pages are not just the youngest but they are the news bringers in tarot. This cup could mean gossip, being overly dramatic. To be honest I think this perfectly fits for his FO post and maybe he feels it was too much, too dramatic. On the card, the Page is offering his cups to someone and it could mean he feels he made those offers. He offered his emotions to her but the situation is hopeless. Or more likely it was a false hope. I said once in my previous reading that the most intense feeling I get from him for NV is this Page of cups, teenage love thing, which is more like the first few weeks, head over heels emotion, but this is without any real substance. 

There is no love here. 2 of cups if it’s upright is still not the love we saw on the Lovers card. It’s more like the early touchy-feely phase of a relationship which could grow to something more but it could die down too. Reversed 2ofC means trouble in a relationship even the end of it. Two people realise they are not meant to be together. 2ofC not only represents romantic relationships but friendships too. In that case, it could mean a fallout between friends. 

What I found interesting is that this could mean a codependent relationship between two people to the extent they cannot leave each other. This resonates with the Judgment rx. 2ofCrx can be a sign of a third person in the relationship or that one of the parties feels attraction outside of the relationship. 

His relationship with his family

Wheel of fortune, 2 of wands

Wheel of Fortune could be a fate, a karmic card. As I understand here that it means they as a family have a strong relationship even if the wheel is turning to negative. I don’t see this bond be destroyed by a woman (like MM did with Harry and the BRF). Rifts, arguments yes, but I don’t see this as a permanent situation. 

The 2ofW is often described as planning the future because the figure on the card is looking at a globe he is holding in his hands. Here I almost feel he is looking into the wheel. 

2 of W is decision making. Seems like a passive card without moving but you are thinking, making plans, so it’s not passive really. He knows the decision he makes will affect many. But as a relationship nor the Wheel neither the 2ofW are good cards. So I definitely sense some trouble now ( at that time of the reading) but he is in the position to change things. 

9 of Pentacles, Strength.

The imagery of those cards are very similar. Both have a very bright yellow background, on both, we have a female figure alone with an animal. 

9ofP could represent an older woman, but first I want to talk about the Strength card. This is about your inner strength, calm the beast inside you. It means your inner strength is put up on a test. 9ofP could mean that you are sacrificed many things for success. I think he temporarily sacrificed some part of his family and this is what put his strength to the test. This card also correlates with material wealth and success. I used the RSW deck for all of my HC readings but I cannot let go the feeling I have when I am using my own, personal deck which is the Druid Craft Tarot. On that card, the woman has everything financially, but still, there is boredom on her face. She is not happy, she is missing someone or something from her life. And I feel as an emotion this is very much present. He has a good status financially, seems everything is good, but still he is not happy. And this is something that could put his inner strength for a test. 

2 of pentacles rx

If this card is upright it means we are successfully juggling between 2 things. Because it’s a pentacle many times this is about 2 jobs, but as I said pentacles are about resources. 

If this card is rx it means you cannot do that anymore. You know that you have to choose between the two things. It could mean his family vs NV, or NV and another one, but could mean a poor financial decision for example with his FL house, maybe he overspent. (Tbh I think I mentioned this before somewhere that maybe he will have problems with his house)

This card also could mean a breakup. I don’t see this means a breakup from his family, I think their relationship is tested. Since this is a rx 2 it speaks about imbalance. 

This very much describes the whole reading. I felt imbalanced. I had a hard time reading certain combinations, first, this whole didn’t make sense. I am not sure how clear I was, this is definitely not my most polished reading. But then I thought I think I am picking up their imbalance. Because this whole has the “ I want to be free” feeling, but at the same time the “I cannot let it go” too. Like I want to go but there is an anchor which is holding me back. 

If we check the cards I get, we have 4 twos ( 2 of cups, wands, pentacles, Judgement), 3 of them is reversed. It means losing harmony, trying to do 2 things at the same time unsuccessfully. The illusion of companionship. You don’t have equilibrium. etc. It’s about decision making, serious ones. Two sides of a story. It also means because those are reversed that he is afraid of making a decision, he rather wants to other make those on his behalf. 

We also have 4 eights ( 8of wands, swords, The Star, The Strength). 2 of them upright, 2 of them reversed. Eight is strength. His inner strength is tested, his life gets busier. Reversed one means bondage, lack of courage.

If you want to imagine his situation, imagine a swing. Back and forth, up and down. He needs to make a decision to slow down or stop, or he will lose control and fall off. This is what he is now and this is what I picked up, while I had a hard time understanding the cards.

I hope you enjoyed it. :)

[bibliophilea]

The End - Ch. 1

Happy Holiday Truce, @mystyrust! Sorry to make you wait - I wanted to do something big, but I forgot to take into account two things: I am a slow writer, and this story became too big to handle as a oneshot. I do have big ideas for where I want this story to go, but we'll see how the story builds itself as I write! Happy Holidays!

If elements of this story seem familiar, that’s because they are! This is based on @lexosaurus‘s tags on @dannys-phucking-dead‘s post! I hope you enjoy!

ffn | ao3

>1< 2 3 4 ...

"Listen. I've met a lot of great asteroids. Really fantastic asteroids. And they've all told me themselves — they said that I was a great president. All of them said that — all one hundred thousand asteroids. I was there."

The camera switches to Tiffany Snow, sitting at the anchor desk.

"This is what President Drumpf had to say yesterday regarding NASA's claims that an unforeseen asteroid is approximately 21 days from hitting the Earth, creating an extinction-level event on par with what took out the dinosaurs," Snow states with a cheerful smile. "Polls suggest that approximately 48.2% of the population believe NASA's claims to be a hoax; 29.5% believe it's the end of the world; and 22.3% is undecided. Lance, can you tell us a bit about Amity Park's response to NASA's claims?"

The camera switches to a street view outside of Amity Park's capitol building. People crowd the streets, many of them yelling and holding signs. Some signs read "THE END IS NIGH". Others say "ASTEROID SHMASTEROID". A few say "DEFUND NASA". One sign says "[citation needed]".

"Certainly, Tiffany," Lance Thunder replies, nearly shouting over the crowd. "As you can see here, tensions are high in Amity Park. Citizens gather to make their voices heard amidst NASA's claims of doom and gloom. Hey, Bob, what do you think of NASA's statement?"

Thunder turns to a middle aged man beside him wearing a bright red cap. The man bends to put his face by the microphone Thunder is brandishing.

"It's fake news, is what it is! I mean, come on! How does a freaking asteroid come out of nowhere? It's a China conspiracy, I tell you!"

Bob nods, and Thunder takes back the microphone. "Well, you heard it here, folks. Amity Park's citizens think NASA's claims are a ho—"

"THE END IS NIGH!"

A woman wearing a sign with the same message butts in, snatching the microphone from Thunder.

"The Disasteroid cometh for us all! Soon it will be Judgement Day and all of you Non Believers will be found Wanting!"

Thunder squawks. "Hey! That is APN property! Give that back!"

The camera turns to focus on Thunder and the woman as they fight over the microphone, their squabbling barely audible over the feedback. Then the feed cuts back to Tiffany Snow.

"Wow Lance, looks like no one can break Amity Park's spirit," Snow says with a grin. "In other news, Congress has voted to defund NASA—"

The TV clicks off.

Danny carefully puts down the remote before he allows himself to shake. His fists clench, and he hides them under folded arms, lest they be seen bursting into ectoplasmic flame. His face feels taut, teeth clenched, eyes abnormally dry. Toxic green edges his vision, and he clamps his eyes shut, lest they be seen glowing green with his anger.

And oh, he is angry.

NASA is a world leader in space aviation and exploration, and Congress is defunding them. And for what? Because they told the truth? Because there's a humongous asteroid about to hit the Earth? They should be funneling emergency money towards NASA, not taking money away! The world needs NASA, now more than ever! Danny has seen the images NASA shared — the images the media doesn't dare share, lest the wrath of one President Drumpf befall them. He doesn't know how everyone missed it — it's huge and it's glowing green and no stars glow green like that — but now that everyone knows about it, there should be some sort of plan to stop it, right? Wrong! The president says it's fake news, and Congress follows suit, and the biggest space programs in the world can't agree on what to do about it when half the world doesn't even think it's real and oh god we're gonna die like actually 100% die and it's not ghosts it's not Pariah Dark it's a big fucking SPACE ROCK that's going to do us in for good and there'll be no more habitable Earth and no more Ghost Zone and we're all going to DIE—

A hand touches Danny's knee, and he gasps, eyes flying open, cringing away from the contact.

Through the green haze in his vision he sees bright orange and immediately shuts his eyes again. They can't see, can't see him freak out, can't see his powers freak out with him—

The hand touches his knee again, and he freezes at the touch, body tense, teeth clenched, eyes shut tight. Another hand touches his arm and he takes in a breath, shuddering as the hand slowly moves to his shoulder, and then to his back, rubbing large, soothing circles. Danny tries to time his breathing to the circles, like Jazz had taught him to, and slowly the blood rushing in his ears (when had that happened?) quiets to a dull roar.

"There we go Danny, see, just breathe. You're okay. You're at home, and Mom and Dad are out, and you don't have to hide."

Danny uncurls slightly at the sound of his sister's voice. He opens his eyes a crack — just enough to see past the green haze — and really looks this time. The orange isn't the same shade as his dad's jumpsuit — it's a lighter, more natural color, and it surrounds a face with concerned, green eyes. Jazz. Jazz is here, and she has her hand on his knee, and she's rubbing circles into his back, and he's kind of sort of getting the hang of breathing with the rhythm of those circles. He leans into her, and she bundles him into a hug, still rubbing circles into his back.

The front door opens, and Danny and Jazz both freeze. Jazz said Mom and Dad are out, but what if they're back? They can't see him like this, they'll find out!

Danny has half a mind to just turn invisible when their voices hit his ears.

"Man, dude, did you see what Congress did to NASA? That's so unfair!"

"It's totally unfair! They're just telling the truth! This whole administration is the absolute worst!"

Tucker. Sam. Danny relaxes slightly at their voices, but he doesn't turn around — doesn't want them to see him like this, either.

But it's too late.

"Woah, dude, you okay?"

"Danny!"

He hears them rush over to him — feels their worry and the warmth of their bodies as they get close — and tenses up again. He should be better than this, stronger than this! He shouldn't be freaking out about some dumb news report.

Not just a dumb news report, his brain helpfully supplies. We're all going to die. And there's nothing you can do about it.

All of a sudden, Jazz's embrace feels too tight. To constraining. Trapping him where he is.

He slips intangible and flees from Jazz, flees from his friends — flees upwards, up through the ceiling and through the roof and through the Ops Center, flees until there's no more house to flee from. He lands hard on the roof of the Ops Center, scraping his knees but it doesn't matter, hands scorching the metal but who cares, it's just the end of the world—

He pulls his knees to his chest and buries his head in them, his face screwing as he tries to get a hold of himself, tries to rein himself in, it's just the end of the world, just the end of Mom and Dad and Jazz and Sam and Tucker and school and movies and parks and people and everything and everyone he'd ever tried to protect—

"Bite this."

Danny feels something cool touch his lips, and he bites down — then coughs and spits as bitter rind and sour citrus burst in his mouth.

He looks up to see Tucker triumphantly brandishing a whole lemon with a chunk bitten out of it. Sam and Jazz stand to either side of him, varying levels of worry and amusement fighting for dominance in their faces. Danny spits again, and stares at the bits of rind and lemon pulp that vacate his mouth.

"What the hell?"

"Told you it'd work!" Tucker crows.

"A lemon?" Danny splutters.

"It's an... unorthodox grounding technique," Jazz responds, "and it normally isn't administered like that—"

"Point is, it works," Sam interjects. "How're you feeling?"

Danny stares at the three of them for a moment. Then he sighs and chuckles darkly. "The worlds going to end because too many people don't believe NASA about an asteroid hurtling towards Earth, and Tucker made me bite into a lemon. How am I supposed to feel?"

He sighs again, long, hard, and shuddering, and he lets himself fall backwards onto the warm metal of the Ops Center roof. Jazz lies down across from him, and Sam and Tucker lie to either side of him, all their heads nearly touching. The sky above them is bright blue, clear of clouds. Birds flit across Danny's vision, twittering as they chase each other before flying off to who knows where. Does it even matter? They'll all be dead in a few weeks.

"I don't want to die again."

The words slip from his mouth, and he feels his breath hitch, watches as his vision goes blurry. His hands begin to clench into fists — but then Sam and Tucker take his hands, massaging the tension from his fingers and palms, and Jazz runs her hand through his hair like she used to do when they were kids and he'd had a nightmare, and something in him breaks.

A sob wrenches itself from his throat, and he curls in on himself. His sister and friends move to hold him close, and he can't help but lean into their touch. They hold him as his eyes glow green, as his hands fist into the metal of the roof, as his sobs take on a ghostly tinge, nearly wailing his grief and his anger and his fear into the sky. He shudders as he cries, and feels as they shudder with him — feels as Sam and Tucker push their faces into his shirt, and as Jazz buries her face in his hair — feels as his shirt and his head where their faces lie become damp.

Crying. They're crying.

And it's his fault.

A wave of guilt washes over him, and he wants to pull away again, wants to force himself to stop crying, to be strong for them. But their grips on him tighten, and they speak to him, words warped by their own tears. "Just let it out," Tucker mutters into his back. "It's okay to cry," Sam whispers into his shoulder. "You don't have to hide," Jazz repeats into his hair.

But beneath their words, beneath their tight hold on him and the way they push their faces against him is a hidden plea: "Stay," they say.

Please stay.

So Danny stays.

Danny stays, and they cry together, and the sun shines down upon them from the clear blue sky.

*~*~*

Danny doesn't know how long it's been. Only that he's no longer crying, and that his friends and sister are no longer crying. They've melted into a cuddle pile of four, with Danny at the center, and the sun beats down on them from a different angle than before. Danny has wound up with his head in Jazz's lap, and she's playing with his hair. Sam and Tucker are on top of him, still holding his hands. Their weight is comforting.

Danny is exhausted. He just wants to fall asleep and deal with everything later. Crying in front of your friends and sister will do that, his brain helpfully supplies. So will the end of the world.

He sighs heavily and moves to sit up. Sam and Tucker get off him, still holding his hands, and Jazz helps him up, moving from playing with his hair to rubbing circles on his back. He smiles faintly at all of them.

"Thanks, guys," he whispers hoarsely. He really does have the best friends and best sister in the world.

Too bad they're all going to die in three weeks.

He frowns and sighs again, too tired to cry.

"It's heavy stuff, huh," Jazz says gently. Danny looks back at her, an eyebrow raised. She continues. "The thought of everything ending like that — it's really hard to think about. Hell, I'm having trouble processing it." She smiles gently at him. "It's okay to be scared and angry, and it's okay to be scared and angry in front of us. You don't have to hide."

"Okay, okay, I get it," Danny mutters. "No more running away."

"Good," Sam remarks. "Now, what are we going to do about everything?"

"What do you mean?" Danny asks.

"You know. The asteroid?" Sam raises an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah. That." Danny frowns down at the roof of the Ops Center. The metal is warped and singed where his hands had dug into it. "What are we supposed to do about that?" He looks back up at Sam. Her eyes bear into his, and her grip on his hand tightens.

"Look, I know this is hard for you. It's hard for me, too. But we can't just sit here and do nothing."

Danny frowns at her. He opens his mouth to respond, but Tucker gets there first.

"Look, I know we need to have this conversation, I really do. But can we have it inside? The metal's starting to get really hot." Tucker stands up, rubbing his free hand on his jeans from touching the roof.

Danny sighs and stands up, stretching the kinks from his back. Sam and Jazz stand up with him.

"On it," Danny says. "Everyone hold tight."

He feels Sam's and Tucker's grips tighten on his hands, and he feels Jazz grab his shoulder. With a poke at his core, he tugs them all intangible, slipping through the roof to the refreshingly cool interior of the Ops Center. He lets go of intangibility and lets gravity embrace them slowly, gently depositing them all on the floor of the Ops Center. Then he lets go of his friends' hands and steps forwards, turning so he's facing the three of them.

"So, what are we supposed to do, huh? Half the world thinks the asteroid's a hoax, and the other half either doesn't have the money to do anything, or is stuck in petty arguments about what to do and who's to blame and all that shit." Danny crosses his arms and frowns.

"Dude, you're the Ghost King," Tucker's quick to reply. "Doesn't that mean you can, like, do anything?"

Danny facepalms. "Oh my god, Tucker, I'm not the Ghost King. I told the Observants I don't want any part of it. And besides, even if I were, who's going to listen to me? Klemper? The Box Ghost? I'm sure they can convince the world to get its shit together!"

"Hey!" Sam interjects. "You can't just focus on what we can't do. We need to focus on what we can do, as a team."

"Oh, and what can we do, Sam? We're way out of our depth here! The four of us can't stop the asteroid from hitting Earth!"

"You're right, Danny," Jazz says. Sam and Tucker gape at her.

"But dude—"

"You can't just—"

"Hey, let me speak!" Jazz waits until Sam and Tucker close their mouths — Tucker with a perplexed look on his face, Sam with an expectant frown.

"We are out of our depth," Jazz states. "We don't have the resources or political pull here on Earth or in the Ghost Zone to make a significant difference." She pauses. "But we know someone who does."

It takes a moment, but Sam gets it first.

"Oh, ew, we are not asking him for help!"

"Wait." Tucker says. "Asking who for—" horror dawns on his face. "Oh, no. No no no. We can't! Why would you even think of that?"

"Think of what?" Danny asks, a little annoyed that he doesn't get it.

"Asking Vlad," Sam, Tucker, and Jazz reply.

"Oh, ew!" Danny says automatically.

Jazz rolls her eyes. "It's not like I want to talk to him either! I just think given the circumstances, we don't have much choice."

"There's always a choice, Jazz," Sam retorts. "He'll probably try and force Danny to stay with him in exchange for his help."

"Yeah, Jazz," Tucker adds. "He's a slimeball. Who knows how he'll try to play this to his advantage."

"But—"

"I think Jazz is right," Danny says.

Sam, Tucker, and Jazz stare at Danny, flabbergasted. Danny blushes.

"Well, it's like Jazz said — I don't want to, but I don't think we have a choice. We need his help. And besides," he says with a smirk, "the man is way too narcissistic. He doesn't want to die because half the world doesn't believe what's right in front of their faces."

"And we can use that to our advantage," Jazz adds. "He knows he'll need help with whatever scheme he's plotting, and there isn't enough time for him to be picky."

"So, what? We go to him for help, and threaten to walk if he tries to pull anything?" Sam raises an eyebrow.

"Exactly." Jazz and Danny grin at each other.

Tucker sighs and pulls out his PDA. "Alright, fine. One meeting with one seriously messed up frootloop coming right up."

Danny stares. "Dude, what are you doing?"

Tucker looks up. "Um, scheduling a meeting with our evil mayor?"

Sam shakes her head. "He's probably booked. We'll have better luck if we just show up."

Jazz nods. "He's probably expecting us anyways."

Tucker sighs and puts away his PDA. "Alright, fine. But can we take a moment to clean up? I don't know about you guys, but my face is crusty."

Danny looks at his friends and sister. Their hair is a mess, and their eyes are still rimmed red. Sam's mascara has dried after running down her face, and Tucker's glasses and Jazz's headband are askew. Danny figures he doesn't look much better.

He nods. "Alright. But after that, we have a meeting with one seriously messed up frootloop!"

[maddiewritesstucky]

Whenever You’re Ready

I am equal parts excited and terrified to share this story with you all. This one is very special to me, and it has been an Emotional Experience putting these words to page, so far removed from what I usually write. Huge acknowledgement to @doctorenterprise whose honest critiques vastly improved this story, and @buckyandthejets who validated the hell out of me, thank you both so much 😘

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve/Bucky (Modern AU)

Word count: 5189

Tags: Angst, infidelity (not between Steve/Bucky), heavy on the feels, reference to past internalized homophobia, lost love, reunions, emotional sex, happy ending

*CW: Infidelity - In this story, Bucky has sex with Steve even though he is (unhappily) married to someone else. Please avoid this story if you will find this triggering, or feel free to DM me if you need more details. It all ends well!*

***

“Never changes, does it?” 

 It goes straight to Steve’s bones, that voice, all the way down to his marrow. He doesn’t turn around at the sound of it, nor at the muted clunk of footsteps on the dock behind him; slowly closing the distance to where Steve’s standing, thinking. 

Waiting.

He’s been out here long enough to have watched the sun disappear behind the mountainous horizon, taking with it its warmth and making way for the quiet chill of evening to set in. It’s far enough away here, from the music and revelry and reminiscence, that Steve can almost pretend those words are true; that nothing’s changed, that there’s nothing and no one else in existence but the two of them, and the reflection of the moon rising over the lake. 

“Some things do.” 

It comes out bitter, even though Steve’s spent years telling himself he’s not; that the pit in his stomach and the hole in his chest have a different name, a different face. It’s a pointless grief, after so many years. Decades, now, as the banners and balloons up at the reunion were boasting.

He knew what he was doing, coming here tonight. Like pushing on a bruise to make sure it still hurts. And it did, it does, because Bucky is right - the camp hasn’t changed a bit, and Steve might be pushing forty now but his heart is still nineteen; still standing at the end of this dock at sundown waiting for those footsteps behind him, for that warm hand slipping into his and that familiar voice saying his name like it’s music, like it means something.

“Steve…” 

...There’s no hand, and his name is just a name. It aches in the exact place Steve had thought it would.

“She’s pretty, Buck. You look good together.”  

He thinks he hears Bucky’s breath hitch, but it could have been the breeze catching in the trees, or the lick of water at the splintered edge of the dock. It would be easier if it were a lie, might sit sweeter on Steve’s tongue if he were sugar coating something false, something to say for the sake of speaking, but he means it. 

That aches, too.

“I married her,” Bucky says, and the way it sounds like an apology sinks like a lead weight in Steve’s gut.

“I heard.” 

“Steve, will you please look at me?” 

Despair frays the edges of each word, and Steve shakes his head, blows out a ragged breath into the cool night air. 

He had looked at Bucky, had watched him walk in tonight looking every bit like the man Steve always knew he’d grow into - strong, kind-eyed, beautiful; age starting to show in the soft flecks of grey at his temples, but missing from where Steve thought it’d make itself known first. 

“You don’t have smile lines,” he can hear the frown in his own voice as the thought slips past his lips, “always thought you’d have smile lines, way you were always laughing at everything.”  

“Steve...” 

It’s a sob, this time; unmistakable, and it rips the ground out from beneath Steve. 

There’s a hand on his back, slipping down the column of his spine; a shivering body pressing up close behind him and a forehead dropping against his shoulder. Tears soak wet through the back of Steve’s shirt and two arms circle around his waist, a hold long-forgotten and achingly familiar all at once, and Steve can’t remember how to breathe.

“Bucky,” he begins, though he has no idea where it ends.

His hands come up to cover Bucky’s, threading their fingers together and pulling Bucky’s arms tighter around himself, and it feels nothing like it used to because Steve’s heart wasn’t broken back then. 

When Bucky’s lips find the crook of his neck, that doesn’t feel anything like it used to either, but Steve tilts his head for it anyway; offers up the expanse of his throat like he’d once offered up the rest of his life to the man holding him. 

All of me, he’d said so long ago, every day of every year I have left. All for you.

Bucky’s hands slip to Steve’s hips, his mouth at the hinge of Steve’s jaw, and it’s so wholly selfish, the way Steve wants this. It’s years of longing and anger and loss made harder by all the ways Bucky wasn’t gone, and the tattered vestiges of Steve’s heart are screaming at him to stop before there’s nothing left of himself to salvage.

 “You left me.” 

There’s no emotion left in the statement, not anymore. It bled out years ago, muffled into Steve’s pillow and screamed into voids and hurled at the walls of his too-quiet, too-empty house. 

It’s hollow, now, but Steve feels how heavy it lands in the way Bucky’s entire body curls in on itself behind him.

“I know,” Bucky whispers, his tear-stained cheek tucked against the side of Steve’s face. 

The immensity of pain buried in those two words sinks jagged teeth into the meat of Steve’s heart, and he can’t believe he still bleeds for it after all these years. He knows he should walk away from this, pry himself free of the physical hold Bucky has on him and spend the rest of his days praying those soul-ties unknot themselves too. 

But the wound is open now, if it were ever really closed, and he can’t stop himself from tugging on the busted stitches to see just how raw and messy he can make it. 

“Tell me why,” he turns in the circle of Bucky’s arms, cups the back of Bucky’s neck and makes him meet the full force of his gaze. 

Give me salt for this wound, he’s pleading, and Bucky would have every right to deny him because this conversation has no place here; has no place in any universe where there’s a ring on Bucky’s finger. 

But Bucky came to him, Bucky broke the silence and put his hands on Steve like he’s just as hungry to hurt for this again, and maybe they both just need to bleed it out together. 

“Because we couldn’t,” Bucky twists his fists tight and frantic into the fabric of Steve’s shirt. “I couldn’t...Jesus, if my family had found out—” 

“I loved you,” Steve spits, “it was real, and I loved you, and you loved me too.” 

“Fuck, Steve, of course I loved you!” There’s desperation there now, in Bucky’s hands on him; not just clinging but clawing, no space between them for air or reason or good judgement. “You think it didn’t break me, too?” 

“I wouldn’t fucking know what it did to you, Bucky,” Steve runs a fingertip across the plain gold band hugging Bucky’s finger, digging his nail in under the ridge of it, “but it seems like you bounced back just fine.” 

Bucky sucks in a breath, and Steve doesn’t hear him let it go again. He’s doing nothing to mask the anguish on his face as he stares up at Steve, lips parted and eyes welling over; his brow knotted into lines that form all too easy, like they’re well worn at this point, and it’s so so wrong. 

Steve smoothes his thumb over the groove between Bucky’s eyebrows; pushes at it like it’s something he can rub away. 

“Aren’t you happy?” he hears himself ask, hurt and exhausted and terrified of the answer. 

It’s not until Bucky shakes his head, tears spilling anew from his red-rimmed eyes, that Steve realizes there was any part of himself left that was yet to break.

“Not a day of my life, Steve. Not without you.” 

Steve will never be emptier than this, seeing the truth of it all spelled out across Bucky’s face. It had been all the light Steve had left, that small embittered part of himself that’d believed Bucky was better off for the way things had gone. 

What was left, now? It had burned Steve down to ash, losing Bucky, but loving him was inextricable, and thinking he was happy out there was the only reason Steve could sleep at night.

“What do I do with that, Buck?” 

There are tears in Steve’s eyes now too, a tremble in his voice and the dead weight of regret hanging off his words. 

Bucky takes Steve’s face between his hands, too tight to be tender. When he sweeps his thumbs across the tears tracking down Steve’s cheeks, it only spreads them further. 

“Kiss me?” 

Bucky leaves it in the space between them like it’s the only answer he has left, and Steve wishes it didn’t make sense. 

 Another place, another time; a different dock and a different sky, and Steve might see the insanity of it, the notion that putting his lips against Bucky’s could be a salve instead of just another scar. 

But they’re here, with those same stars and that same rundown boat shed with it’s broken door, and Steve lets himself close the distance between their mouths, because it’s the only answer he has left, too.

He kisses Bucky with every minute of every day of every wasted year sitting there on the tip of his tongue. He holds Bucky too close and breathes him in too deep, leans all too willing into the pass of Bucky’s hands over his body.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Bucky sobs brokenly, slipping his hands up under the hem of Steve’s shirt to splay across his bare skin. 

Steve shakes his head because he can’t hear that now, with Bucky’s hands on him. Remorse can’t coexist with the warmth of Bucky’s palms and the slick press of his mouth, not when there isn’t even room for moonlight between them. 

“Don’t,” Steve whispers, “don’t tell me that.”

Bucky’s hand finds its way up to the center of Steve’s chest, his fingertips curling into a grip on Steve’s flesh like he can reach in and take hold of what lies beneath. Steve’s not sure there’s anything left in there to grab onto, but he lets Bucky try anyway because if there is, it will only ever belong in his hand. 

“Can I tell you I still think of you?” Bucky kisses the words against Steve’s cheek, trails them down the line of his jaw. “Never stopped thinking about you, Steve.” 

You should have, is what Steve should say, you’re not mine anymore.

“Someone will see us,” is what Steve does say, even as his fingertips dip beneath the waistband of Bucky’s pants. 

Someone is probably looking for Bucky right now, but there’s no room for that truth here, either. Especially when Bucky pulls back and looks toward the long abandoned boat shed, and then back at Steve.

There are so many opportunities for Steve to choose differently, to tell Bucky to stop. When Bucky takes him by the hand with a plea in his gaze; when he pulls Steve down the dock, and into that boat shed...it’s been a lifetime and Steve is a grown man, too old to be this foolish. But he’s tired, too worn down from years of unmet longing to be anything other than reckless when presented with everything he’s lived without for so painfully long. 

So he doesn’t say a word. 

He lets it happen, and he helps it happen. He raises his arms for Bucky to pull off his shirt, tilts his hips when Bucky works his belt loose and tugs down his pants. 

He strips Bucky bare with his own two hands and pulls him against his own naked body, sobbing open and unashamed for the way it makes him feel whole for the first time in twenty years. 

He maps the planes of Bucky’s body, no longer rounded and softened by youth, but every bit as warm as the memories Steve has clung to, and it shouldn’t feel right because it isn’t; shouldn’t feel so familiar when there’s been decades of distance between them. 

“I miss you.” 

It trips off Steve’s tongue before he can stop it, small and breathless. Of all the three-word truths he could have let slip it isn’t the worst, but Bucky’s wounded noise says that it cuts just as deep. 

He catches Bucky’s lips against his own before Bucky can do anything stupid like say it back; fisting his hands up through Bucky’s hair and pushing his tongue into Bucky’s mouth.

He wants to do this slow, to sink deep enough into it that every touch and every moment cling to him like a brand. But it’s only ever been a headlong tumble, this journey that begins with Bucky’s bare skin against his own, and Steve can feel himself falling the same way he always did.

Open palms turn to pressing fingertips, lips on skin turn to grazing teeth, and a dusty hammock spread across the floorboards. It’s another twist of the knife, the way Bucky’s body still fits beneath his own just as perfect as it ever did, the way Bucky’s spread thighs still make the perfect cradle for his hips. 

Bucky still looks up at him from the flat of his back with the same awe he’d turn upon the night sky, like Steve’s still the only heaven he believes in, and there’s too much gravity in that gaze. There always was, but there was no reason not to get dragged into it back then. 

It’s not until Bucky’s fingertips brush softly over his eyelids, tracing the sweep of his lashes, that Steve realizes he’s closed his eyes.

“What are you thinking about?” Bucky whispers.

Steve almost wants to laugh, because if he were thinking at all, he wouldn’t be here. 

He’s not laid out naked on top of someone else’s husband because he’s thinking; not about to put his mouth and his fingers and his cock where they don’t belong because he’s in his right mind. 

Steve is an exposed nerve, a callous that’s been rubbed raw, and he’ll pretend that’s all he is for as long as it takes to see the man he never stopped loving fall apart beneath him one last time.

He buries his face in the crook of Bucky’s neck and bites down on the softness he finds there, all the answer he intends on giving. There’s no good reason for him to still know the exact spot to sink his teeth into, but he’s not about to waste time pretending he doesn’t remember every last touch point that ever made Bucky lose his mind. 

His right earlobe, the notch of his clavicle, the tender space beneath his ribs. 

His hip bones, and his wrists, and the soft insides of his thighs, sensitive all the way down to his knees.

Maybe after all this time it’s only nostalgia, only because they both want so badly to be who they once were to each other. But Bucky’s body still sings the exact same tune when Steve plays it, tongue and teeth and fingertips in all the right places.

“Please,” Bucky gasps, giving over to it just as easy as he always did. He’s hiding nothing of himself, not in the sprawl of his body or the longing in his gaze, the breathless sounds dripping off his lips. 

He arches into the rub of Steve’s skin against his, splays his thighs wide for Steve’s hips then wider still for Steve’s shoulders, and he looks down the line of his body with all the same rapture when Steve finally takes him into the heat of his mouth.

“Oh...” 

It’s so soft, the sound Bucky makes. One tiny word, more breath than anything else, yet it somehow holds all the sentiment of of course, and how have I lived without this, and Steve is ruined for it. 

He’s sixteen again, realizing that want begins and ends with Bucky Barnes.

He is seventeen, discovering that the only thing better than getting his hands on Bucky, is getting his mouth on him. 

He is eighteen, and nineteen, and twenty; bone-deep certain that for him, there will only ever be Bucky.

“Stevie,” Bucky sighs. He reaches gentle fingertips to brush the hair back off Steve’s forehead; traces the stretch of Steve’s lips around him with all the tender wonder of their youth.

...Steve is thirty-nine, and he will never come back from this. 

He holds Bucky’s gaze as he swallows him down, watches the play of pleasure across Bucky’s face like it’s still his to behold. 

He sinks all of himself into chasing those awed, quiet sounds that have existed only as echoes for so long, and pretends it’s not the worst kind of cruelty that this act should still feel so sacred; that Bucky should still be that breathless, trembling embodiment of surrender. 

Back arched, thighs twitching, face flushed and lips parted…it’s as devastating as Steve remembers, and so much more so for the fact that he has no right to witness it anymore. 

“Steve, please...” 

Bucky looks down at him imploringly, reaches for him with open hands. 

Steve hollows his cheeks as he pulls off him, slow and tight. He crawls back up Bucky’s body until they’re face to face, until he’s covering Bucky’s body with his own.

“I’m here, Buck.” 

I’m weak, Buck.

He cups Bucky’s face in his hands, strokes his thumbs across Bucky’s cheekbones and nudges their noses together. He breathes Bucky’s air and kisses his lips, soft and careful until it’s not; until it’s just Steve pouring all his hunger and his longing and his desperation into Bucky’s mouth.

And he is desperate. Every last part of him is breaking for the feel of Bucky’s bare skin, his bare arousal, rubbing up against his own; for the responsibility of holding Bucky’s vulnerability and his nakedness and his pleasure in the palms of his hands.

“God, it’s been so long,” Steve’s voice splinters around the words, around the sobs that want to keep coming, “it’s been so long, Bucky...”

He rolls his hips heavy and deep, slips his hands beneath Bucky’s shoulders to keep them locked tight together. There’s sweat beading between them, spit and precum slicking their skin, and every promise they ever made weighing dense in the air. 

Bucky’s fingernails are sunk deep enough into his back that Steve can feel the half-moon imprints forming; Bucky’s legs hitched up around his hips and soft moans passing back and forth between their open mouths. 

Steve had always wondered what this must look like from the outside, the way they get lost in one another. The quiet gasps and heavy breaths, the pleasured sounds that catch between their lips. Bodies shaking, hands clinging, eyes open because it’s the closest thing to heaven you’d ever see. 

It’s immensity was always buried in the slowness of it all, but it’s as consuming and inevitable as it ever was. 

He knows Bucky’s close before Bucky tells him he is; can feel it thrumming through Bucky’s body beneath him. He knows he shouldn’t watch it happen, shouldn’t sharpen that mental picture back into focus when it had taken so long to blur its edges in the first place. 

He shouldn’t moan brokenly into Bucky’s mouth and rock harder against him; shouldn’t push up onto his hands and fix his gaze squarely on Bucky’s face.

‘Shouldn’t’ doesn’t mean a goddamn thing anymore.

“Come with me?” Bucky pleads, eyes glassy and body strung taut. 

He presses a trembling hand to Steve’s heart and the other to Steve’s neck, holding his racing pulse and his heartbeat in his hands just the same as he had the first time they made love, and Steve comes apart at the seams.

It’s unending, that wash of raw feeling. It’s galaxies inside his rib cage and oceans in his veins, and wildfire curling around the base of his spine. He breathes Bucky’s name, spills all over his stomach, and when Bucky follows him over he ducks down to drink the wonder of it right off Bucky’s lips. 

The quiet weighs so much heavier, as they lay pressed together in the aftermath. 

Steve looks down at the man beneath him, watches his breathing settle and the flush subside from his cheeks, and the ache of the past suddenly pales in comparison to what lies ahead. 

What exists for them beyond this moment, here and now? Bucky’s face is cradled in Steve’s hands and his nakedness is sheltered by Steve’s body, but even this was never Steve’s to offer. It’s time and touch already stolen, and the rhythmic lap of water against the dock outside may as well be the ticking of a clock.

“What happens now, Buck?” he asks, knowing there’s no comfort to be found in the answer. 

Bucky shakes his head, touching gentle fingertips to Steve’s cheek and searching Steve’s gaze. 

“I don’t know.”

The night air is cold against Steve’s back, all the warmth that had seemed to wrap so close around them dissipating. 

He slowly moves off of Bucky and gathers up their clothes, redressing himself with fingers that fumble weak and uncoordinated with the fabric that had been so very easy to take off. 

“...If you asked me to leave her, I would.” 

Bucky’s voice comes small from behind him, but the words take up every last inch of space in the room. 

Steve turns to look at him, and there’s something so painfully close to hope on his face, it makes Steve’s chest ache. 

“I can’t do that, Bucky,” he rasps, “it can’t be up to me.” 

The regret in it is palpable, the ‘I wish it was’ joining the thousand other things that live, unsaid, on the tip of Steve’s tongue.

I am so much yours that it hurts

I will never stop hoping for you 

I will love you for the rest of my life

It’s years too late, for all of it. But those words still throw themselves against the backs of Steve’s teeth, because if not now, then when?

 “Bucky, I—”

 “James?”

 ...The soft call comes from outside, carried on the breeze from a little ways off. 

There’s nothing in it, no suspicion, no concern. Just someone looking for the person they’ve lost, wondering where they’ve gone to. 

Steve’s stomach sinks, and the clock runs out.

Bucky looks at him, eyes wide and lips falling open like he intends to speak. No sound comes out, but Steve understands all the same - Bucky’s gaze always said more than words ever could, anyway.  

“You should go back, Buck.” 

Steve says it gently, though neither of them deserve that kindness after what they’ve done. He picks up his sweater, and he leaves what’s left of his heart on the floor, because he’s got no use for it without the man he’s about to walk away from. 

“If you ever…” Steve starts, and stops himself, shaking his head softly. His gaze sticks to the spot just in front of Bucky’s feet, his body half turned toward the door. 

“...You know where I’ll be,” he says instead, and then he gathers up his shoes in his hands and steps back out into the evening, because he’s no more capable of saying ‘goodbye’ to Bucky now than he was back then.

 ***

It’s a half hour walk home along the edge of the lakeshore, but it takes Steve hours; tears washing a salt-sting down his cheeks and his feet in the too-cold water the entire way.

It doesn’t even scratch the surface of what he deserves, that frigid needling against his skin and the stones underfoot. But the greater punishment will come, he knows.

When he gets home, and has to live the rest of his life knowing not only what he lost, but what he did to try and dull the ache of it. 

When he gets home, to that rambling, too-quiet house on the lake edge, where Bucky’s touch is set into the very foundations.

The roof they had helped Steve’s dad patch, the summer Steve turned eighteen; the creaking window ledge that would betray Bucky’s midnight visits to Steve’s bedroom, and that same kitchen table where they’d try not to blush at each other’s gaze. 

The porch swing where they’d watch the sun go down; every wall and doorframe they’d kissed up against when Steve’s parents weren’t around to see it; every tree they ever made love or fell asleep beneath...

He may not have seen Bucky in the flesh in almost twenty years, but there hasn’t been a day of Steve’s life since that he hasn’t felt the echo of his presence, and now it will hum under his skin the same way it always has in his house. 

The sky is awash with stars he can’t bear to look at by the time he makes it home, feet numb and shivering all over. 

He trudges the path from the lakeshore back up to his house, clearing the tree line and stepping into the moonlight spilling full and bright over his yard, over his homestead. 

Over the unfamiliar car parked in his dirt-track driveway, and the figure sitting, waiting, on his porch. 

“...Bucky?” 

His body slows in its tracks, stops halfway across the yard and won’t carry him any further forward. 

Bucky makes no move to close the distance between them either, save to stand slowly on unsteady legs and step down onto the silver-lit lawn. 

“Hey, Steve.”

His arms are curled around himself, his shoulders rounded and his feet shifting on the grass. Even in the moonlight, Steve can see the swell of too many tears shed around Bucky’s eyes, and he’d look like he was about to run if not for the set of his jaw; the unwavering hold of his gaze on Steve’s.

“Buck, what are you...how long have you—”

“I did it.” 

Bucky’s voice cracks - not like a heart breaking, but like a weight falling away, like a world upending, and it hits Steve like a blow to the back of the knees.

“You did what, Bucky?” 

He knows what he’s hearing, what Bucky has just laid before him, but he asks anyway because it can’t be that; that terrible, selfish thing that Steve has dreamed of and hoped for and hated himself for wanting all these years. 

Bucky can’t be here, standing under the light of the full moon, hours after they made love that was all passion and no integrity, telling Steve that.

Bucky takes a step forward, just one. Not close enough to touch, but close enough for Steve to see that he’s shaking.

“I told her, Steve. I told her what I did tonight...told her the truth about me.” 

“The truth...” 

Steve’s chest is crushing in on itself, the air between them so thin and fragile he’s afraid to breathe it in. 

Bucky wraps himself tighter in the circle of his own arms, shaking his head and dropping his gaze to the ground. 

“I was scared, Steve,” he whispers, “back then...We were kids, and I was so scared of what it meant, the way I felt about you. And I thought I could...make myself feel that, again. For someone else. Someone who was...” 

He blows out a shuddering breath, kicking at the ground in front of him.

“...Someone that everybody else would accept. But I couldn’t, Steve. I tried, I tried so fucking hard, and I thought that if I got married, then maybe...maybe it’d be better, because I’d have no choice but to love her. But I just...I couldn’t feel that again. I couldn’t, because I never fuckin’ stopped feeling it, for you.”

Steve aches, in every part of his being, all the way down in his soul. He stares at the man he’s loved his whole life, and he aches for the both of them; for the half-lives they’ve been living, tied to one another with string that had stretched when it would have been kinder to snap. 

“I got it so wrong, Steve,” Bucky sobs, his eyes screwing shut against free-flowing tears. “I chose so wrong. And I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry…”

Steve’s body moves without thought, reaches and wraps itself around Bucky’s trembling frame; tight like he can save Bucky from this inevitable unraveling. 

“Jesus, Bucky,” he shakes his head, heartbreak spilling raw into his voice, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Bucky’s face is tucked into the crook of his neck and his tears are catching cold against Steve’s skin. But Steve’s own are falling into Bucky’s hair, and his hands are shaking too hard for their strokes up and down Bucky’s back to be any real comfort, and neither of them move to change a thing about it.  

“I’ve thought of you every day,” the confession slips quiet from Steve’s lips, and he lets it, “I’ve missed you, every day.” 

Bucky gasps a hitching breath into Steve’s shirt, holds tight to the fabric at his back. 

“Fuck, I got more to make up for here than I’ve got years left,” he shudders, pulling back to find Steve’s eyes. “I got no right to ask you for anything ever again, and I know I gotta put some things right first, get myself right, but...but would you ever...could we, ever…” 

Steve is nodding. Before Bucky’s even gotten the words out, Steve’s nodding. 

There are so many questions still to be asked and answered, so many conversations to be had and blows that are yet to land in the aftermath. The road that lies ahead is unpaved and unmapped, and the sunrise will shed light on realities they haven’t even considered. 

But none of that changes what Steve knows to be true, here and now. 

He knows that the window ledge still creaks; that that tree still bears more fruit than he knows what to do with, and the roof hasn’t once leaked, not during a single storm.

He knows that in any lifetime, any versions of themselves...they could. 

“Whenever you’re ready, Bucky,” come home when you’re ready, Bucky, “you know where I’ll be.” 

***

It takes time, just like Steve knew it would. 

It takes tears, and words that are just as hard to hear as they are to say. 

It’s wounds reopened just to be stitched back together better, right this time; stitched to heal instead of just to survive. 

Bucky is gone again, for a while, but his absence isn’t the bleak void it once was. It’s time apart for the sake of a life together, for both of them to rebuild what was broken and find a new sense of ‘whole.’ 

It’s Bucky finding his feet as the person he’s always been, and learning to speak his truth. It’s untangling himself from the life he was never meant to live, and finding forgiveness where it’s needed. 

It’s Steve ripping up those floorboards that creak, and it’s letting himself sleep. It’s replacing the wallpaper that was more peel than pattern, and it’s teaching himself to roll with the waves of joy and grief until he can sit just as comfortably with both.

It takes time; eight months and twenty-one days worth of it. 

But they heal, and Bucky finds his way home. 

And this time, it sticks.

[gaemkyuu]

Of Kings and Queens (Part 4)

Warnings: none!  A/N: Part 4! Prince Charlie finally makes his formal appearance!  AU!Prince Charlie Gillespie x Fictional Character Disclaimer: This is a FICITONAL writing piece! In no way do I claim characters in this piece act this way in real life.

Masterlist *now taking requests ;)

Part 1/Part 2/Part 3/Part 4/Part 5/Part 6

Maybe taking a break wasn’t the greatest idea because Olivia was running slightly late to the dinner, but she managed to make it to the doors of the banquet hall right before the Western Kingdom’s family was announced to their guests. 

“I’m sorry. I’m here!” she panted, slightly out of breath. Her father shifted awkwardly and her mother burned a hole through her with her angry stare. Her father was never the type to discipline her, unless it was rightfully needed, because that was her mother’s job. “What? I made it on time!”

“After our discussion in the parlor and your clumsiness at tea time, I would’ve hoped you reflected upon your actions! This is absurd Olivia!” Savannah flitted about fixing a couple loose ends here and there on her dress and hair. “And you! Is it not your duty to ensure that you are aiding the Princess? You are equally responsible for her tardiness” Savannah bowed apologetically and the Queen dismissed her with a wave of her hand, something Olivia thought was very disrespectful.

“Mom, Savannah’s done nothing but help out today and she’s been doing a great job! Being late was entirely my fault I-” her mother silenced her with another glare, ready to rip her apart, but her husband’s hand on her shoulder stopped her.

“You will refer to me as your Majesty since we are in the midst of Royal Affairs. The King and I have prepared for this event for months and I will not have you ruin it! Why can’t you just do as your told and be a good Princess that her Kingdom can be proud of?” The Queen took a breath and was about to continue until she heard the announcement of their name. “Stand straight and smile. Do not embarrass us” she spat, and instantly changed her composure, as if the entire conversation hadn't happened.

Olivia blinked back the tears that threatened to fall and straightened her spine. From that moment on, a nauseous feeling settled in the pit of Olivia’s stomach. Walking down the center aisle to the head table was a blur, she couldn’t remember what food was being served to her or how it tasted, she was simply going through the motions. Her mother was never this hard on her and was normally so accepting, but Olivia couldn’t help but be herself. She truly believed she would make a great King and that the traditional expectations and roles of women needed to be changed. She fought hard for these beliefs, and admittedly failed at times, but she still believed that she could radically change the Kingdom for the better. 

Yet her mother’s actions and words had made her feel like there was no more fight, that her future and fate was decided and that she did not matter. This feeling was unfamiliar to her and kept her mind occupied the entire evening. As Savannah served her dish after dish, she would quietly ask if she was alright, but Olivia could only nod. Her mother seemed to be in a better mood as she discussed with her father over dinner, putting on a show for all of her guests. As Olivia’s defeat settled in, the pit became deeper and the nausea stronger. She started to feel her chest tightening and the room felt suffocating, despite its size. By the time dessert came around, she politely declined and cleared her throat, directing her attention to her mother for the first time.

“Your majesty, may I be excused?” she could tell her mother was about to protest, but her father spoke before her and gave Olivia his permission. She quickly excused herself and exited the banquet hall from a side door, to bring little attention to herself. What she didn’t catch was that someone watched her with concern and excused themselves from the table, quietly following after the Princess.

As soon as she was out of sight, she quickly picked up the pace escaping to the one place where she found peace; the palace gardens. There was a fountain surrounded by greenery that was tucked away within the massive expanse of the garden and it is there where Olivia would flee to when she felt that she needed to escape. Feeling the cool breeze of the evening air hit her face as she exited, she took a deep breath, finally starting to feel the claustrophobia escape her. But what replaced the stuffiness was the sadness as she realized the truth in her mother’s words today. Fleeing to the fountain, she started to feel her tears quietly stream down her face, but she didn’t stop until she felt the cold marble of the fountain in her hands. She fell to the ground and did something she rarely did, which was cry.

In her pursuit to prove herself worthy of ruling the Kingdom, Olivia made sure that no one would ever see her crack under the pressure. The only time she cried or became emotional was in private, away from anyone because she didn’t want anyone to think she couldn’t do it. She thought that she was blocking out the negativity and doubt, but in reality, the words bothered her. Savannah often lectured her that harboring all these emotions would eventually get to her, and today it seemed like it was. She abruptly left afternoon tea, she cried in front of Duchess Carolynn and now she was crying on the floor in the garden next to the fountain.  Olivia could hear the voice of her mother chastising her actions right now. Her mother would be disappointed that she lost her composure or that she was crying over nothing. Her tears came out in a steady flow and she felt her chest get tighter again. Within seconds, Olivia was panting, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to stay rooted to reality. She didn’t notice that someone had finally caught up to her and rushed over to her side.

“You’re having a panic attack. It’s okay. You aren’t alone.” the voice was unfamiliar, but then again everything sounded muffled and an annoying ringing was ever present in her ears. “Focus on the sound of the water. Listen to the steady rhythm of the water as it falls from the fountain.”

The voice was strong, but calming and steady, so she followed the voice’s instructions. The ringing started to subside as she looked for the sounds of water hitting water. “Now feel the grass underneath you... feel how soft it is and how cold it is.” She was starting to hear things more clearly and as she grasped the grass in one hand, the other hand held strong onto the cold marble of the fountain. A shiver ran up her spine as she felt the cold evening breeze.

“You’re doing great. Now, take a deep breath in and out. Not so fast, just time it with the breeze” she felt warmth wrap around her shoulders as the unknown figure sat beside her, taking her hand in theirs rubbing soft circles on her hand. She started to focus her breathing on the pattern that the hand holding her own made, and eventually her breathing steadied. “Think you can open your eyes now?”

Olivia instantly recognized the beautiful green eyes in front of her, and just like they did earlier, they took her breath away. The eyes showed a deep concern and a need to know that she was alright, but for a moment, Olivia lost herself in the intensity and transparency. The saying that the eyes were the windows to the soul was never more true than in this moment.

Prince Charles Gillespie.

“You okay?” He searched her eyes, needing some sort of confirmation that she was fine. Olivia couldn’t believe that the Prince had helped her through her first ever panic attack and showed genuine concern for her. She nodded, speechless, and he pulled out a handkerchief to gently dab below her eyes. “My sister told me that if you wipe your face, you stretch your skin and make it wrinkly” he chuckled. Shoving his handkerchief back into his pocket, he helped her up to sit on the fountain. That’s when Olivia noticed that the coat he wore to the banquet was draped over her shoulders, keeping her warm. It wasn’t uncomfortably cold that night, but it wasn’t warm enough to be without a coat or shall, but that didn’t seem to bother the Prince. He sat there in the cool evening air in his dress shirt and asymmetrical vest, buttoned all the way up. Feeling a little guilty, she moved to take off his coat, but he stopped her from doing so.

“Thank you for your aid Prince Charles, but I think it would be best for us to return to the banquet” the Prince chuckled and shook his head.

“Call me Charlie and I’m 100% the last place either of us want to be is in there” Olivia snapped her head towards him and fumbled to find some way to cover up the truth in his statement. “It’s fine, you don’t have to pretend to be all Princess-y to me. It’s cool. You aren’t the only one with Royal Family issues” despite the weight in his words, he offered her a friendly smile.

“What’s your story?” Charlie sighed deeply and paused, but Olivia knew she had asked him a loaded question.

“My parents want me to be a King, but I don’t want to be. I mean, being King would be cool because I could help more people, but I don’t think I could handle all of that responsibility. It just all seems so suffocating... What about you? You’ve been zoned out since you walked into the banquet hall”

“You’re gonna think it’s stupid” Olivia sighed, wrapping her arms around herself. 

“That’s quite the judgement to make despite meeting me for the first time.” He winked at her jokingly, but she felt as though she could tell him a little bit.

“I don’t want to be married off to be some man’s submissive wife and be Queen. I just want to be King and help my people continue to live in peace and prosperity. The fact that someone who is more qualified can’t rule the Kingdom based on their gender is a little archaic, don’t you think?” Charlie nodded in agreement, understanding her frustrations. “How silly... A Prince being urged to be King, but doesn’t want to be and a Princess who wants to be King but can’t!”

“It’s quite the interesting predicament that we’re in isn’t it?” Charlie chuckled and Olivia giggled softly. “But seriously, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I was just overwhelmed and emotional, which is stupid because it’s not that big of a deal” he looked at her as though she was crazy. 

“Y’know holding in all those feelings aren’t healthy right?” Olivia blushed, knowing that Charlie saw right through her. “It’s okay to feel things once in a while y’know? You don’t always have to be okay” she scoffed at the last remark he made.

“Please, according to my mother being a Princess means the world is just sunshine and rainbows! Everything is awesome! Also, aren’t you cold?” he laughed at her response and shook his head. 

“I’m from the north, this is nothing, and don’t try to change the subject” he stood up and offered his arm to her. “Shall we go for an evening stroll my lady? I believe that you were supposed to set time aside for me tonight since I skipped out on our meeting in the atrium, and you need someone to talk to, who won’t judge you” she smiled and took his arm, standing as well. “Plus, it gives us an excuse to not have to go back right away, something I think you appreciate as much as I do”

Olivia enjoyed her time with Charlie. They laughed and told stories from their childhoods, making fun of each other from time to time. Charlie exchanged stories of life in the northern part of the Kingdom and Olivia answered every question about the marine wildlife on their coast. They wandered the gardens, losing track of time in each other’s company, that they didn’t notice their feet eventually take them back to the outside of the Palace. Olivia didn’t anticipate to be slightly disappointed that their time together was coming to an end. From the outside, they could tell that everyone moved to the ballroom to dance and socialize for the rest of the evening.

“Ready?” Charlie looked at her expectantly, but a slight look of sadness crossed his eyes. She nodded, knowing very well that neither of them were truly ready to return. As they walked up the steps, she stopped in her tracks, nearly pulling them down. “What’s wrong?” if the concern in his eyes weren’t obvious, his tone was.

“I feel stupid for asking this, but tonight... this isn’t some crazy plot to get my hand in marriage?” Olivia instantly regretted asking the question. Charlie looked a little hurt at the question, but she needed to rid herself of the little voice in the back of her mind.

“I’m not here to convince you to marry me, although I’m sure everyone would love that. I just... I saw you struggling and how no one was helping you... I felt bad because I know exactly what it’s like to feel the way you do...” she smiled at his response, but cocked an eyebrow when he started blushing. “I mean like you’re really pretty, but you’re also really cool, probably one of the coolest girls I’ve met, but I don’t want to pressure you into anything y’know? I mean like, if you want to do this again, I’m all for it, but if you just need to vent that’s cool too!” she silenced him, with a finger on his lips.

“I enjoyed my time with you and you’re not too bad on the eyes either” he blushed a deeper shade of crimson and smiled wide. “But we just met, and I think we both deserve to get to know each other before anything else happens... but only if you want to because lord knows that once our families catch wind of this they will constantly be down our throats...” an uncomfortable silence came between them when they realized that there was truth to what Olivia said. “I want to get to know you for my sake and not theirs. Do you feel the same?” He smiled and took both of her hands in his, looking down at them and back into her eyes. 

“I would like that very much. Wherever this goes, or whatever comes of this.” The sparkle in his eyes was very attractive to her, and she was curious to know more of him, but all perfect moments have to come to an end. King Patrick opened the balcony doors looking slightly irritated, searching for Charlie. King Patrick was surprised to see them in each other’s company, but they quickly climbed up the remaining steps.

“Your Majesty” she greeted and curtsied. “Prince Charlie was kind enough to accompany me on an evening stroll, I hope I did not keep him away from you too long” King Patrick smiled, happy that his brother was in the company of the Princess. 

“Not at all, I am simply glad to see that you are both alright.” he smiled, but Olivia heard Charlie scoff beside her, knowing well that he probably rolled his eyes. The three of them walked into the ballroom, and a look of shock, displeasure and excitement crossed the Queen’s face at the sight of them. She whispered quickly to the King and both of them moved to intercept the three.

“Your Majesty, I would like to sincerely apologize for missing my meeting with the Princess earlier this afternoon. I was grateful for her understanding and am very appreciative of the lovely tour she gave me of the palace gardens” Olivia was surprised at how articulate Charlie was despite their conversations in the garden. She also appreciated that Charlie was covering up for her as she didn’t want her mother to know what truly happened.

“I am glad that the Princess was able to reconcile the situation and I am glad that she was in your company” Olivia was annoyed with the smile on her mother’s face as her father spoke. Their conversation was interrupted by Prince Owen, who cleared his throat.

“My sincerest apologies, but I do believe that the Princess promised me a dance this evening” he winked at Olivia, not knowing he had been quietly observing the interaction in the distance. Owen’s gaze then went to Charlie’s and both men smiled at one another, holding a short conversation in their eyes. In this quick exchange, Olivia realized that the pair that dashed passed her this morning was Prince Owen and Prince Charlie, and it became apparent to her that they held a deeper friendship beyond that of Royal Families. As she curtsied to Charlie and he bowed back, Owen extended his hand to Olivia and accompanied her to the dance floor.

“Is this a bad time to tell you that I don’t dance very well?” Olivia laughed as they walked to the dance floor.

“Is this a bad time to tell you that I only know how to lead and not to follow?” Owen smiled and bowed as they stepped onto the dance floor with the other couples dancing. “Since I’m doing you the favor of making you look good, are you going to tell me about yours and Charlie’s relationship? Especially since your almost ran me over this morning” Owen’s eyes widened.

“That was you?!” Olivia laughed and nodded, while a slight blush rose to Owen’s face. “Charlie and I have been friends for a long time. I was supposed to marry his younger sister, but she found a Duke that was way more suited for her than I was. Not that Princess Meagan is not a great person, but she’s always felt more like a good friend than a future spouse. The two of them often spent their summers in the South with me.” She imagined them both as children innocently playing in the fields and probably getting chastised for their messiness when they returned home. It brought a smile to her face because she finally understood their playfulness. “I take it that the smile is for Charlie?”

Olivia blushed and shook her head, trying her best to sort out her feelings. In all honesty, she hated to admit the fact that Charlie did sweep her off her feet tonight. She was stubborn and refused to be one of those Princesses that immediately fell in love with a man she just met. In her mind, love is something that takes time and develops as you get to know the person. It doesn’t simply happen in a few moments over a conversation in the garden. But she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in the back of her mind that maybe she did fall quickly, but it felt so good, something Olivia hadn’t felt in a long time. The music came to a slow end and the crowd applauded the musicians, while Owen bowed to Olivia and thanked her for the dance. 

“Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts, I hope I wasn’t rude?” Owen shook his head no and smiled at her.

“Honestly, it was fun dancing with you even if the entire time you were blushing. Plus, I think our interaction will keep her Majesty off of you for a little bit” he nodded in the Queen’s direction subtly and winked at her. She could tell out of the corner of her eye that her mother was very pleased.

“Pardon me, but may I steal the Princess for a dance of my own?” Olivia jumped at the voice behind her and turned around to see Prince Jeremy, smiling. 

“Save the formalities Jer. She’s cool, not like all the other snotty ones.” Owen smiled and gave him a curt nod, opening his one arm in a gesture that he surrendered Olivia’s company to him.

“I’m on duty tonight Owen, I gotta be Princely. Plus, Care already told me that she isn’t like the rest” he winked back at Owen and then smiled at Olivia. “Shall we?” she smiled back at him and took his hand preparing for the next dance. As the music began, Prince Jeremy took the lead and Olivia struggled to follow along, but Prince Jeremy quickly caught on and slowed his pace for her.

“You’re quite the dancer Prince Jeremy, people must be envious of Duchess Carolynn” Jeremy chuckled and continued to lead them in rhythm of the music.

“Please, you can call me Jeremy between our small circle of friends. It’s nice to not always have to be formal with everyone. But if you asked Carolynn about my dancing, she’d tell you that I’m only good because of the amount I’ve stepped on her toes.” Olivia laughed at this. “But you’re not wrong about people being envious of her. I was told that she shared a bit of her story with you this afternoon.”

“She did. You have a beautiful and amazing wife to be Jeremy. I’m grateful for the compassion she showed me earlier” Jeremy’s eyes held a look of love as he looked over Olivia’s shoulder. With a quick turn in the dance, Olivia saw that Carolynn was watching the both of them, amused. “If I may ask, what’s it like to be in love? How did you know she was the one?”

“I used to think that love isn’t something that instantly happened. It was something that was created over time, but when I met her, it felt like my whole world needed her in it. Everywhere I looked and everything I did just reminded me of her and I couldn’t get her out of my mind” Jeremy’s eyes held this look of awe and passion thinking about when he first met Carolynn. “I was so overcome with this idea that I had to be with her and the more time I spent with her the stronger that feeling became, which I didn’t even think was possible at the time. I ended up saying ‘I love you’ first, which was a bit forward at the time, but it truly worked out.”

“Weren’t you ever scared that you were listening to your emotions too much and not logically processing everything?” Jeremy let out a hearty laughed as they danced, which attracted some attention from the crowd. “I’m being serious! I don’t want to be one of those girls who falls head over heels too quickly!” she whispered.

“And what would be so wrong about that?” Olivia couldn’t think of anything to say to answer his question. “Sometimes you have to stop thinking about how others will perceive you and start thinking about what you truly want. I was once told that the greatest thing one could ever learn was just to love and to be loved in return” Jeremy slowed their waltz as the music came to an end, the applause once again signaling the end of the dance. “Besides, I think you already know how you feel but you aren’t ready to admit it”

His wink and observation caught her off guard, that she stood there with her mouth slightly agape and slightly flustered, her cheeks turning a slight pink. Jeremy was very perceptive and had pretty much vocalized Olivia’s thoughts on the matter. She may have been falling for Charlie rather quickly, but was it bad because of what people would think or was it bad because Olivia had to admit that she was wrong about the way love should work. Jeremy thanked her for the dance and while he bowed to her, she curtsied and moved her way to take a moment of rest of the throne next to her mother.

Olivia became lost in her thoughts about the prince as the other guests danced around throughout the evening. Some Dukes were brave enough to introduce themselves and ask Olivia for a dance, something she politely declined, not because she wasn’t interested or annoyed, but because she couldn’t stop thinking about the man with the green eyes who weaved his way into her mind. 

The man who lowered all of her defenses within a matter of minutes.

The man who understood her more than anyone, including Savannah.

The man who she couldn’t stop thinking of.

“Your Majesty, my King” Olivia almost didn’t recognize her voice as she spoke to her father, but she startled both of her parents. “If you could be so kind to please arrange breakfast tomorrow morning with Prince Charles in the atrium, I would greatly appreciate the gesture.” The smile on her mother’s face was huge, but she refrained from saying anything. Her father smiled sincerely at her and nodded.

“If that is your wish my Princess, then so it shall be done.”

tag list:  @ifilwtmfc @warmness0ul @starjane312​

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Fourth Coming

Fandom: The Wilds Rating: T Word Count: 2157

Summary: And on the twenty-third day, Nora ate goat and thought about love.

Nora sees the experiment through two lenses, like the red and blue acetate in those cheap 3D glasses. One lens is the scientific, the other is the brutal. When she puts these metaphorical glasses on, she’s just there, in the middle of it, but when she’s feeling particularly tired (understandably often) or just relaxed (inexplicably often—a fact to be concealed from the others), she shifts between the two views. Each is sharper alone than they are combined.

Scientific: counting the days; subtly taking her own inventory of the rations; monitoring Fatin’s dehydration, the commensurate level of distrust the rest of the group have for her.

Brutal: cold fingers in wet, black sand, disinterring Jeanette’s grave; Dot’s tumbling, shivering recount of spearing and battering a snake; ralphing, ralphing, ralphing bad mussels.

It isn’t until the goat that these contrary perspectives finally attain a kind of beautiful balance in Nora’s brain. And it isn’t her thoughts, or rereading one of her journal entries, that has her mental clouds clearing. Actually, it’s what Leah says. About barbecues and normalcy and the Fourth of July. Leah’s remark—possibly offhand, certainly poisonous, even if Nora can’t see how yet—gracelessly and unselfconsciously reveals the barbarism of order. A social gathering on the same day each year, centered around fire (fireworks, sure, but Nora is amazed by how dazzled people are by something not so very far advanced from what had the cavepeople oohing and awwing) and the cooking of meat. Ritual is the summit at which the scientific and the brutal join hands.

The day doesn’t matter. (Every day could have been June 29th and what difference would that have made for them on this island?) The conditions of their environment haven’t changed. (No major shift in the seasons or significant weather patterns, just the single freakish high tide.) The slaughter of the goat and the subsequent cookout should be put down to chance, Nora knows. Toni, Martha, and Shelby decided to look for food. Martha happened to find the goat. She happened to lay her hands on a tool that could do the job. She happened to be successful. And now, miraculous barbecue in honour of… what?

Nora’s sure that most of the girls would say the feast is in honour of themselves, their power, their survival. All of that would really put a spit-shine on Gretchen’s mission statement, but Nora’s not just an agent, a plant, a spy, a wolf in castaway’s clothing. She seeks to understand as much as she always has. She wonders if Shelby thanks god for the goat, or eats it as a form of praise. Nora constantly spots her toying with the cross on her necklace, frequently in a way that holds it far from her throat, almost like she’s thinking about ripping the necklace off and hurling it into the ocean. That would be going a bit far, but then, so is hacking your hair off because a brush got stuck.

Their ritual could be the sacrifice of another creature in the hopes of sparing themselves—a kind of desperate, gasping celebration. Privately, Nora decides they’re celebrating love. Leah’s persistent aura of tragic romance is part of the inspiration for that, but she isn’t part of either of the two developing relationships Nora’s been observing.

Martha’s picking at her goat meat glumly, so Nora rises and goes over to her. Her gait is unsteady on this sand and on these legs, weakened over the past two days of starvation, but it’s enough to carry her until she can slump down next to Martha. Sweet and strong, vulnerable and clearly capable (judging by the sizzle of fat dripping from the roasting goat leg and hitting the fire), Martha smiles when Nora joins her. Nora smiles back and that’s enough between them for a few minutes.

Nora watches the browned meat, nearly allowing herself to be hypnotized by the texture that urges her to sink her teeth in, the crispy spots she knows would taste incredible. But she can’t gorge herself; her stomach needs to be cool about what she’s already eaten or the chewed up goat goes the way of the slurped mussels Rachel found.

Carefully, Nora turns her head to study Martha. She decides that what this girl needs is the same thing Leah needed on Day 12 when she was sitting alone on the beach: some kind of dirty joke. Since she’s fresh out of filthy material of the Christmas variety, Nora tells Martha, “One second,” and heaves herself up again. She comes back dragging Marcus. He’ll be her muse, but it’s also a reunion of lovers.

“You two could get married,” Nora tells Martha. “Shelby said she was an ordained youth minister, remember?”

They laugh and it’s softer than the crackle of the fire. Nora likes that. The steady, rolling sound of their laughs together. How they taper off, unlike the ceaseless noise of breaking waves that drives Nora insane whenever she surfaces from her numbness to the sound. Like becoming conscious of your breathing and working like hell to stop noticing it, because having to purposefully regulate every breath is exhausting and terrifying.

Martha frowns a little in consideration, then half-smiles.

“Nah. I don’t know if I’m ready to commit like that. I think this could just be a fling. All those abs and he didn’t come help me haul that goat.”

“That’s true.” When Martha gazes at the mannequin, Nora assesses Marcus as well. “And it’s not like you’d want to keep him around because he gives great head.”

“He might’ve once,” Martha defends, brushing hair out of her face when a breeze kicks up, “but he gave so much head that there’s none left for me.”

They catch each other staring at the clean line where Marcus’s neck ends and nothing rests above it and trip into laughter again. Though Nora feels like she accomplished her dirty joke, Martha made it even better. People have underestimated her. Nora’s noted it from the start. It’s probably because Martha was injured. Group dynamics were established quickly and have formed and reformed in the days and weeks since, but Day 1 showed them the rawest version of who they are together and, before they knew about Jeanette, Martha was the weak one. Have the others seen her role evolve like Nora has? Are Nora’s observations anything special, really?

“This is totally not a judgement thing or anything,” Nora says, meaning it. “I was just wondering if you were maybe going to wash your clothes. Or change them.”

“Oh.”

Martha looks down at herself and now Nora’s glad she said something; it doesn’t seem like Martha was really aware that she’s been sitting here crusted in drying blood. Nora weighs the acceptability of a period joke and decides against it.

“You don’t have to,” she assures Martha, raising a gentle hand. “It just seemed like maybe the, uh, the slaughtering process? Was kind of a mindfuck?”

“Yeah.” Martha stares straight ahead and lets out a short laugh that Nora doesn’t join her in. “I’m glad Marcus wasn’t there to see. He might not’ve come back the same.”

Nora peers at her a moment, then resolves to just say what she’s thinking.

“Did you?”

Turning her head, Martha looks at Nora and her smile’s the same, but her eyes are different. No, Nora would write in the journal. The answer is plain. Maybe she’ll record it on paper later and maybe she won’t. Looking into Martha’s eyes, Nora knows she won’t need help remembering this.

“I’m just living my best life,” Martha tells her, batting the ends of her hair with her hand.

It sounds like something Fatin would say in this moment, or at least have printed on a t-shirt or something—it’s flip and glib—and for the very reason that it reminds Nora of Fatin, she’s certain that Martha not only means the silly words sincerely but that she feels the kind of truth in the trope, the mindfulness in the meme, that Fatin fights so hard to experience herself. Fatin is deeper than that ocean over there and Martha is a girl scooping out the sand in front of her mannequin boyfriend, digging him a sturdy trench to rest in so she can lean back against his factory-sculpted physique, painted in the blood of her first kill.

For whatever reason, Marcus is the man Martha wants. Nora can’t imagine him becoming anyone else’s property after all this is over.

“Do you want a lychee instead?” she offers. Martha’s flat-out ignoring her leaf-plate of meat now.

“Maybe in a minute.”

She turns her dreamy eyes away from where she’s rubbing a streak of dirt off Marcus’s bicep. Nora follows her gaze to Shelby, who seems to be counting out and partitioning the lychee haul, looking to Dot from time to time. Dot isn’t interfering, just giving encouraging nods when Shelby seeks them out. And of course Toni’s watching too.

“You think they’re telling the truth?” Nora inquires bluntly. “That whole ‘wrong turn in the woods’ story?”

Martha shrugs and says, “Yeah,” but Fatin scootches towards them, evidently drawn by the hum of gossip in the air.

“Are you talking about Toni and Shelby?” she asks, but it’s more of a demand. Her eyes are bright and excited, her mouth grinning, and Nora knows that a lot of that effect is thanks to their first meal in days, but it astounds her how socializing lights Fatin up as much as it used to shut Nora down.

“No,” Martha says quickly, but no faster than Nora’s flat, “Yes.”

“Dope. Yeah, those two are a hundred percent lying.”

“Are you sure?” Nora asks.

She’s not, but the cameras will be. Seeing the footage afterwards isn’t something she negotiated on when Gretchen made her part of the team. Speculation, though less scientific, is much more fun.

Fatin rolls her eyes like Nora’s questioning the laws of gravity. (She blinks and sees the poster of Newton. Sees Newton seeing the apple. Her throat closes up until she softly coughs it clear.)

“Definitely,” Fatin says. “Even if they were just out there all day picking fruit, it’s still the most sapphic thing I’ve ever heard. It’s, like, biblically sapphic.”

Martha laughs.

“Uhhh, sorry, which version of the Bible did you read?”

Nora smiles broadly and looks from Martha’s expression of brimming joy to Fatin’s concentrated delight. Like she’s on to something and whether or not she’s right is beside the point. That kind of approach makes Nora pleasantly dizzy. She remembers being little, standing at a department store perfume counter she couldn’t see over while her mom spritzed scents on her wrists that floated down to Nora’s nose. Fruit and flowers and anything and everything that could make the air beautiful when a woman walked into a room.

“None, but come on, there’s the garden, right? I know some shit. The marketing for this retreat was super Christian-centric anyway. We’re out here representing the fucking Dawn of Eve!” Fatin gestures triumphantly around at their dismal (except for the goat) camp. “If those two bitches weren’t getting their freak on under a fruit tree last night, I’ll eat my gold watch.”

Nora scrutinizes the girls in question.

“Shelby does look especially glowy today.”

“Maybe she’s born with it, maybe it’s chronic sun damage,” Martha singsongs.

“Maybe it’s what Toni did to those mussels with her tongue,” Fatin acknowledges frankly, “because Shelby sure as hell didn’t borrow my hundred-dollar highlighter. That shit got swept out to sea.”

Fatin trains her eyes on Shelby while Martha watches Toni, and Nora watches both of them watch the others. When they switch subjects in a moment of unvoiced agreement, Toni jerks her head up and spots Fatin staring at her. The tender gazes she’s been throwing Shelby’s way over the low mound of red fruit tighten into suspicion.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Toni barks, and a laugh sputters from Fatin as she raises her hands to show she means no harm.

“Ok,” Martha says to Fatin and Nora, giggling. “I see it now. Something happened between Shelby and Toni yesterday. Some kind of hunter-gatherer romance.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve taken the ‘hunter’ title away from Shelby,” Nora points out.

“Well, whatever. Gatherer-gatherer then.”

“With an island colony of all women, it was only a matter of time,” is Fatin’s pragmatic take. “Another couple weeks without an orgasm and I would’ve fucked Toni myself.”

“It wasn’t just time,” Martha scoffs, tipping her head to the side. “It’s love.”

“It’s both,” Nora says. She could prove it to them, flourish the statistics she’s been tracking in her journal. How those bald numbers lie there next to the drawings that spill to the edge of the page. She’s made bedfellows of data and emotions. She just sits there and grins at them. “It’s the aphrodisiacal influence of the Fourth of July.”

[uncomfortable-writers]

-𝐮𝐧𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 (𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

(Gif credit to owner)

Fandom: Marvel

Character: Steve Rogers

Persona: Female 

Word Count: 1,748

A/N - Hey everyone, long time no see! Life has just been really crazy for me and I didn’t have the motivation or time to update. I hope you’re all staying safe and well <3

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“--and that’s why it’s best if we call him in--”, Nick Fury’s voice bounced around the half empty conference room straight into your ears although you’d zoned out at the sheer mention of his moniker. You subconsciously gritted your teeth in an action you thought was subtle but Natasha caught the movement out the corner of her eye unbeknown to you. “So any questions?”, Fury paused surveying the remaining Avengers who had opted to stay in action after defeating Thanos rather than taking an early retirement.

After a few moments of silence Sam Wilson spoke up, “Nope, think we’re good here”. Fury curtly nodded, gathering his paperwork he announced, “You’re dismissed”, before exiting the room. Sam followed suit talking about training sessions with Peter Parker while Wanda rose from her chair. She glanced at you and Nat, she opened her mouth as if to say something but decided against it instead opting to give you a warm smile. You could feel her pity for you linger in the air like the foul mood which had washed over you. You sighed before standing, Natasha copying your actions tentatively placed a hand on your forearm, “You good?”. You smiled at your red-haired friend, “Yeah I’m fine”, you answered and to be honest you were quite fine; although there was an undeniable feeling of dread lingering in the pit of your stomach that you weren’t ready to address.

She hooked her arm through yours and led you towards the elevator, “You sure? It must be serious if Fury’s calling in the big guns”. You appreciated her attempt to lighten the mood and responded to half her question, “Yeah bet it’s gonna be tough, makes me even more jealous of Tony and his Malibu beach house”, you pressed the button which would take you to your shared floor with the Black Widow, she laughed at your joke, “Tell me about it”.

The doors pinged open, releasing Nat’s arm you stepped out first, “I’m gonna go shower I’ll catch ya later”. She gave a polite hum which you almost missed as you paced to your room. Once inside you sighed out loud.

Out of all the Avengers Nick could’ve called back in, why did it have to be him?

Discarding your clothes you made your way to your shower while pondering on your thoughts, almost chuckling at the bitterness which clouded your judgement. “I don’t know why I care”, you reached out for the faucet and turned it up to the highest temperature, “It’s not like he does”. You hissed as the hot water met with your skin, your statement was mostly true. Steve’s own actions had proved that.

With a groan, you pressed your head to the tiles and recounted Tony’s past words, ‘Don’t get involved with teammates’.

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Steve stepped off the quinjet with Bucky in tow, the fresh air felt much cooler than that of the humidity they were used to in Wakanda, “So much for that retirement”, Bucky chuckled. Steve let a smile slip onto his face as he tightened his grip on his duffle bag, “Well what can you do when the world needs us?”. Truth be told the Captain was grateful to be needed again, as thoroughly as he’d enjoyed his 6 months away from avenging he was antsy to get back to work. A normal life wasn’t quite what he thought he wanted.

“Let’s get this show on the road then”, the Winter Soldier made his way into the compound. A chorus of hellos met the pair. Steve’s baby blues flickered around the room as he greeted his former teammates noticing the lack of a certain someone. He couldn’t say he was surprised but some part of him had been hopeful. He made a mental note to ask Nat about your well being later. 

“Great to see you again Sam”, Steve greeted his old partner with a half hug as the man joked back, “Still haven’t aged a day I see”. Steve chuckled, “The Wakandan sun does wonders, how you been?”. Sam released him allowing him to step back, “Not too bad, it was nice to do absolutely nothing for once”. Sam nodded, happy to have his friend back in the same country, “I hear that, the Winter Jackass stay out of trouble?”. Looking over to Bucky he answered Sam’s question, “He’s okay, can’t say I’m on board with his new found love for goats though”. Sam visibly looked surprised and before he could ask what Steve said, “Sounds better if it comes from him”. 

At this Nat saw her opportunity to talk to Steve, “Hey soldier, let me take you to your room”.

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4 o’clock in the morning was the perfect time to train at the Shield compound. No newbie agents to gawk and watch you awestruck as the mighty Red Viper, famed partner to the Black Widow, (and rumoured scorned lover to Captain America), unleashed her fury on whichever unlucky punching bag she’d strapped up. You almost chuckled as you struck the bag full force. Sleep wouldn’t come with all the thoughts bobbling around in your head.

That seemed true for other occupants of the compound too.

Steve walked towards the gym without a thought. He liked to start off his day early even if it was a little more earlier than usual, his body clock was still trying to adjust to the new timezone. When he saw the light on in the gym he didn’t think twice but when he opened the door and saw the familiar figure moving effortlessly, he almost backtracked.

You hadn’t heard the door open over the sound of your flesh slapping against the fabric of the bag, too lost in your own musing. Steve debated his options: against his better judgement he decided to test the waters, after all when would he catch you alone like this again? There was no harm in friendly chatter. So letting the door drop loudly, he made his way over to the bench placing his water bottle near your own belongings.

You hadn’t expected company so early in the morning, reaching out you stilled the frolicking bag and looked behind you immediately regretting your decision. 

There he stood still looking the same as the day he left, blonde hair a little longer but his beard still neatly trimmed. His ageless face still perfect, those eyes as calm as the ocean on a sunny day and just as deep. You took note of the slight tan which kissed his skin and the way the corner of his lips pulled up into a polite smile, “(Y/N)”. His voice the same tone, and just as buttery-smooth, the same voice when had whispered sweet nothings into your ear as you basked in each other’s warmth.

“Rogers”, your voice was void of any emotion as you tried to keep your cool. The sound stung him a little but he didn’t say so, nor did he try to press you to speak letting you swiftly turn back around and resume with your training. As much as you wanted to flee from his presence, you refused to be intimidated by him. You’d have to get used to be around him, at the end of the day you were expected to work with the super soldier which meant you couldn’t always run from him. Steve wrapped his knuckles while observing you throw punches. Even though you were trying hard not to show how affect you were by his arrival, he could tell by the way you hit the bag.

“If you keep going like that you’re gonna sprain your wrist before we even start the mission”, he spoke softly, his shoes noiselessly bringing him closer to you, “Is this what Sam is teaching these days?”.

You didn’t laugh at his quip but you did slow down your swings in order to reign in your punches. Steve internally sighed and went to pick up a punching bag of his own, setting it up a few metres from you. This caused you to frown. It was silent for a moment before he opened his mouth again, “So--”, only to be cut off by you snapping, “Just stop”, your head jutted over to looked at the solider. If looks could kill Steve would be a dead man, “Stop what?”, he asked, feigned innocence on his puppy-like face. He knew exactly what he was doing. “Stop talking to me like we’re friends”, you deadpanned, stopping your workout entirely so you could face him. Steve crossed his arms over his chest almost defensively in the same manner he used when he was about to give one of his famous speeches, “Just making friendly conversation (Y/N), didn’t want it to be awkward”. 

You scoffed, “Didn’t want it to be awkward huh?”, you repeated nodding your head. Taking a step back you decided that maybe it was bedtime; spinning on your heel you headed towards your belongings. You were stopped by a gentle tug on your arm making you turn back towards Steve. The smell of peppermint and forest-lakes tickled your nostrils, the once familiar scent comforting but now only served as a nasty reminder as to what once was.

There were unspoken words exchanged, the looks on both of your faces said enough. 

Your eyes drifted over his face, Steve studied yours in turn letting his eyes linger just a little longer on your lips. You noticed the action making your stomach churn from a mix of butterflies and anger. You froze. His hand slowly glided further down your arm, stopping when he encased your small hand with his much larger, rougher one. The sick feeling wavering in your abdomen wanted you to run, to move, to do something other than let him work his magic over you; but there you stood staring into his eyes with your feet planted to in the ground. Steve opened his mouth, the apology which was supposed to be spoken was instead replaced by a squeeze to your hand and, “Rest easy, we have a long day tomorrow”.

The Captain moved back to his punching bag leaving your hand cold and your heart colder. A scowl was visible as you collected your belongings. Choice words threatened to spill out of your mouth but you opted for a softly muttered, “Prick”, as you let the door shut loudly knowing Steve would’ve heard your insult.

[frog-noises-2]

This is my first like actually good drabble, I don’t even know if I’m going to continue it and this was mainly for fun, but I still hope you enjoy it. This is still like very terrible writing so there’s your warning, I also used some foul language in here so be warned. This has very heavy Izuku Midoriya x Ochaco Uraraka in it so....

The Quest pt. One of ?

When Ochaco was little, she had dreamed of a knight in shining armor that would help her on magical adventures. They would protect her family and the world from evil, but sadly she knew those dreams would never become reality as she was poor and her parents needed her to get a high paying job.She knew this even as she went to school for the most successful knights, she knew this as she became a more formidable sorceress, she knew this as she waved her friends goodbye for the last time. She knew this as she met Izuku Midoryia, a small, frail, plain boy. She thought she knew as she looked at him sitting in her kitchen.

Izuku Midorya had always had a warm aura about him, but now it felt like she was sitting in front of the Sun. He was taller than she remembered and he was definitely more confident, but that is not what surprised her, no, what astonished her was that he was a Knight of the Roundtable. She knew that he would have gotten there sooner or later, but it’s only been five years since they had graduated high school.

He looked askance before swallowing hard and spoke with determination shining on his face brighter than one-thousand fires. “So, I need your help with something, Uraraka.”

“Yes, Deku?” She answered, nervousness creeping up her spine making her face flush.

“I need you to come with me on a perilous mission. I understand if you don’t want to come, considering your family, but I’d appreciate if you could-”

She lowered her face and spoke softly but her words were powerful.“Yes… I’ll come with you.”

The next morning, The two set off from Ochaco’s small house and headed to the middle of the village.

“Where do we go from here?” Ochaco asked with a warm smile and a curious glint in her chocolate eyes making Izuku’s heart stop. Before answering he tries to take the most inconspicuous deep breath he can, “Where do you think we might find a bard or perhaps a ship’s crew?” Ochaco thought for a minute before deducing that you might find a bard in a tavern performing or getting a round of drinks with some mates. They set off together finding many friends along the way. It took many weeks for the rather large group to finally reach their destination.

Looking out over the small village, it was quiet, almost eerily silent as the heterochromatic eyed prince, Shoto Todoroki asked the one question everyone had, “What do we do now?”

It was the silence that answered the group as the unintentional leader looked on, his green eyes analytical and deep in thought. This shocked everyone as he was known to mutter whenever he was like this.

“We wait.” was his answer, almost deafening.

“Fuck that!” , the sudden outburst of a certain angry blond startled the group, his voice booming, “If we came all this way to just sit and wait, I’m out.”

“Katsuki,...” a scaly redhead pleaded with his boyfriend. As the argument grew, as more people agreed with the explosive blond man.

Ochaco was silent, she knew why they were here, Izuku told her a few weeks prior, but it still didn’t quite make sense. She replayed the conversation in her head.

“I know you’re probably wondering why I chose you. The truth is, I need you to help me find Monoma, the creepy blond guy from the other class. He’s made a real mess of things and I was sent to try and help him even himself out.” His face was apologetic but his eyes were angered. He was hiding his true feelings on the matter, and Ochaco could tell he wasn’t telling the whole truth.

She thought, not long, but long enough that the silence between them was so deafening even Kirishima might have trouble hearing,“Alright, I’ll need something of his, and a few simple ingredients. But before I even try to cast the spell, I need you to understand that I can only find him if his soul is focused on mine, or if he is in danger. This may not work out the way you hope.” Her eyes blazed with seriousness and the setting sun only illuminated them more.

“I understand,” he paused before walking away, “ and thank you… Ochaco.” The sudden use of her given name, shaking her to her core, especially with the solemn tone he used.

The memory was just as confusing as the event, but she willed herself to not ask more questions, as the topic made him uncomfortable, she could tell. She could always read Izuku like an open book, but lately he was more like a book with some pages missing.

“Why are we really here, in the first place, Deku?”

The curiosity was killing her and she knew that she would give in, but she never thought her mouth would get ahead of her. The statement made her mouth dry as she slapped her hand over it, her face flushing in embarrassment as the group turned to look at her. All of their eyes were on her and she felt like she was drowning in a sea of judgement, everyone was looking at her awestruck at her boldness, all except Izuku. His back was turned away from her, but she could tell by the way his head hung a bit that he was angry.

“I… I wish I could tell you more… but I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t.” Serious fury came from the crow-black goddess, Momo Yayorozou. The air was so thick even All Might would have struggled to cut through it.

“Can’t.” snapped back Izuku with a growl.

The brunette had had enough, “I’m sorry, but I just don’t understand. I don’t mean to pry, and I don’t mean to upset you, but I’m wondering why we were dragged out here. You gave me a piece of the story. Now I need more details, I need to know what we’re up against.” The mini-speech was surrounded by the affirmation of their old class.

“Listen, I just can-” the green-haired man started

The mage puffed her cheeks as she spoke, “Izuku Midoryia, you either tell me or I leave… Please, just tell me what is going on, I- I’m worried about you, so please, answer me.”

For the first time in his life, Izuku was speechless, no thought was running through his head, his eyes were wide with shock, his heart breaking into pieces. For the first time in their lives, they heard Ochaco with fury and hurt in her eyes. How Izuku hated the way those eyes made her look. She was holding herself together as she stood there pleading for an explanation. The deafness that ensued was that of screams far off into the night. The bright colors that came after was that of a blue hue as the heat scathed the village to ash. Immediately, the group moved toward the small village. The blue flames engulfing many homes, townspeople scrambling like on routine. The flames were tall and showed no sign of stopping. Debris and ash filled the once cool air, the group helped where they could. Todoroki froze over many of the fires the best he could. Many more agile members found those trapped in the fire. Izuku was surveying the sky, he moved before anyone saw the swift movement of a shadowy figure.

Just as Izuku arrived in a meadow surrounded by trees, the shadows warped and before him stood the villains from his past, well most of them anyway. There was no scarred man, blonde knife chick, or the guy who had the multiplying quirk. There was, however, Monoma in chains, the warp gate, the wannabes, and Tomura Shigiraki, the handy man himself. It was here that he realized his mistake, he was trapped and he had no one coming to find him. Or so he thought, as soon as his green hair moved two others followed him quietly, Bakugou and Yaoyorozu.The were still and quiet, observing the scene, debating getting more backup.

For what seemed like forever, they all stood anticipating the next move the other might make, the air smelling of ash. For once, the world was still, and the green-haired man was furious. He looked at the quirk copier and scowled but not as much as when he looked at the krusty blue-haired man.

“Hello again, All Might Jr., It’s been a while.” he says with a sly smile.

Izuku retorted, causing Bakugou to snicker ever so slightly, “Right back at you, Krusty the Clown.”

With his smile fading, Shigaraki turned his attention to the two in the shadows. “ Oh I see, you thought that you could get a jump on me, didn’t you?”

To be continued . . . .