#and together their wokeness increases exponentially the longer

[mkulias]

Rajbow is a dangerously woke ship, both Raj and Bowie are extremely woke, and together their wokeness increases exponentially the longer that they are together

[mkulias]

you're so right mod alejandro, I will cease all rajbow shipping immediately 🫡

mod alejandro blink twice if you need help. anyways do you think rajbow is yaoitastic

The help I require can only be provided by the ephemeral rotational forces of the universe

Rajbow is a dangerously woke ship, both Raj and Bowie are extremely woke, and together their wokeness increases exponentially the longer that they are together

-Mod Alejandro 🔥

[transingthoseformers]

I am vividly reminded that as of the current timeline, around nearly years have passed since the unicron arc up until let's say the start of the Tarn and Fallen fiasko. This got much longer than expected, and i admit this isn't new information but a collection of previously established information organized into a timeline because uwu time periods. I will heavily rely on @ivycorp 's contributions, as I'm gonna be real they're the reason the TFP au exists, are very great at writing, and pretty much the coowner of this au.

(Technically, I wasn't going to include this, but Hazard arrived very shortly after the cosmic rust plague episode and a little bit after when Megatron woke up. This is because they are a fucking bloodhound when it comes to plagues and chemical weaponry.)

Orion was on the Nemesis in the Orion arc for, let's say three at minimum five maximum? months. [Remembering our forgotten games happens at some point in here, happens at some point around here, and I'm betting this becomes a whole hidden thing for a lot of the Orion arc— this will have consequences] About halfway through this the Elite triad arrives and there's a whole emotional thing once Optimus regains his memories and comes back.

Their little extra spicy dance lasted a While before Soundwave's revenge began, before that the Decepticons got more attached to earth culture, I would also say that lasted around six months enough for the 'cons to get used to Megatron's flustered and horny antics. So that places us at around eleven months max?

At the beginning of Optimus's emotional renaissance and increasingly awkward battles is when Dreadwing arrives and almost immediately fucks off into the woods. Soundwave bridges Arachnid into the Atlantic ocean to rust at the bottom of the sea, she survives on the Harbinger for a while, finds the Insecticons as she has a bridge key, and fucks off into the middle of Australia to set up the hive (which becomes very energon lucrative) Wheeljack arrived with Dreadwing, and stays around a little longer with Boyfriend Bulkhead than canon.

More towards the mid mark, Shockwave is revealed to be very alive and comes down on Earth. He drags a half baked Predaking with him, to nobody's knowledge just yet. [About when Colleagues with very enjoyable benefits is set] Juncee begins here with Sweet and Tenative Hope and it's so goddamn sweet. Pharma (and very quickly Tarn and the DJD) around the mid mark finds his way onto Earth on an escape pod actually. [This is when Rival Exes who at least pretend not to have feelings with each other happens uwu] He's very stern on Not leaving the base, and eventually everyone picks up the vibe that he's got unpleasant history with Tarn. Nobody questions this just yet, and we focus more on the Breakout, Megop, and continuing Ratchma antics. [Permanent honeymoon is placed in this section] This is around when the vehicon couple who had ran during season one and lived on the downed Eros get caught and offlined.

Closer to the end of the spicy battlefield dance arc, Everyone's starting to get very tired of the exponentially increasing Battlefield Megop. This is actually the first time the humans witness Megatron with a visor and when ge finally gets to pin Optimus— and then proceeds to get struck by lightning. They do not see Megs with a visor again for quite a while, because he's a stubborn asshole and forgets them more often then not. [And they were exes at war (oh my god they were exes at war!) Is placed here]. Exactly pretty much immediately after that are the events of [Megatron & his servo], which begins the glorious Soundwave's revenge arc!

[This is when I mention that Following the pull that bound us together (I will not let go) by far spans the most time, starting somewhat before Orion first heard of Megatronus alllllllll the way until the night after the fateful comm call that lead to the Soundwave's revenge arc lol]

The whole Tarn fanfiction ordeal likely started around when the guy first arrived and decided to turn in fics instead of reports. The domino effect of Soundwave and Starscream saying nothing of this for a while, KO and Breakdown learning through a loopy seeker and sharing unofficial information on the GC, Tarn turning in more fics, and eventually Star being allowed onto the GC and he comes bestowing an absolute archive of Megatarnma fics— of which Fowler immediately sees and that's hilarious. Quickly at the start of Soundwave's revenge arc, Megatron (who is distinctly not in the GC) has so many backlogged reports to do under Soundwave's supervision and this is when he learns of the fanfiction. Tarn, who is also not in the GC, spends quite a while longer completely ignorant of anyone knowing of his secret fantasy love triangle. [Detailed in the events of Tarn's imaginary love life - and the repercussions of his self-insert fanfiction] Let's be real this is another reason nobody on the Nemesis likes Tarn.

The Soundwave's revenge arc lasted a good four weeks. The Soundwave's revenge arc (calling it this is more if a misnomer by the end, as the revenge part fades quite a lot once they learn how much of a disaster Megatrons's internals are) is around when Miko started making a game of Houdiniing her way onto the Nemesis, naturally. Megatron is pretty much confined to the medbay for a nice while. At thr beginning of this Soundwave decides it's time to involve Swindle into this, and he arrives pretty soon as his one man ship The Hustle which is specifically customized his small stature and being fast arrives. [Quickly after this arrival I'm betting the events of Of holograms, galas, and unexpected guests happen] [This is also around when the powerpoint in Life on the Nemesis for the majority of its crew is shown, with the one vehicon that gets mentioned likely having been assigned to Hazard duty (mind the pun) in the mid to end spicy battlefield dance arc] Also among events is Dreadwing's rather gory death via the DJD, with bits of him being left across multiple countries.

At the three week mark Megatron gets his quarters back, and this only lasts three days. Then which Starscream half blows herself up live on stream thanks to Megatron's little problem distracting her. Megatron's newly returned private Quarters privileges get revoked, again. Rather quickly after this, Optimus's surprise visit happens. The toys get burned (by Primus not the toys!), the absolutely dope and iconic 2 v 1 fight occurs, annnd that ends in the charred remains of Orion and 'Tronus's collection are left on the battlefield. [As the events of When your nemesis is no longer coming to fight you in the field]

[ Megatron as a patient, or how Soundwave tries to not go insane with his leader’s unfortunate addiction to a certain Prime spans all the way from the start of Soundwave's revenge to the tail end of it]

But, eventually the autobots do learn, giving us another stretch of time as Silverlight's existence prompts a very important treaty and negotiations and "how much do you want me involved with childcare" conversations that need to happen. I'm gonna say this lasts a good three four months? Putting us at 18 to 19 months, around a year and three quarters. During quite an amount of this there's the whole extra protective Megatron stuff and the medics' antics to get checkups on both of them (... and hell, once they do that it's Optimus's turn) Tarn's starting to get super agitated and asks a lot of questions that nobody gives him a straight answer for, the rest of the DJD can kind of sense this and it blows up in everyone's face soon.

At some point, Megatron regains his quarters, and no more incidents seem to have occured or he was just quiet enough about it these times.

This is actually likely when the Grabbening occured, and honestly this is something I've been really itching to talk about more because it's a whole situation. I can see this being an ambush (that on the Decepticons' part is on accident, they did nOT know that there would be autobots out here) with Jazz and Elita, also naturally including Arcee and Bumblebee. It's the first time anyone besides Optimus has seen Megatron, and there's a serious initial fear of "oh FUCK, Megatron is not only here but we don't have Megatron aaaaand the kids and Fowler came with us frag frag frag—", at least until they notice how he isn't on his game. Like, time to start cracking half serious terrorcon and zombie jokes time. Hazard is also here, a rare sight on the battlefield, and absolutely terrorizes the hell out of the humans. The autobots immediately call for a groundbridge,, Soundwave tracks Megatron who's most definitely not supposed to be out of the medbay who the fuck let him outside for a flight, and sends out a bridge as well (don't worry this one isn't very close to the autobots' bridge, no shadowzone adventures for today). Everyone hears thunder, and as is Cybertronian policy to immediately GTFO and there's convenient bridges right there (Megatron, who's already certainly feeling like a terrorcon, actuallyis avoiding being struck by lightning! What an occurrence!). The catch being at least a few Decepticons having bluescreen moments and grabbing all four humans and booking it back to the Nemesis. Because naturally Knockout, Starscream, and Soundwave own the functioning processor components right now. There's a whole discussion about this the moment they get back, with so much arguing in Neocybex that the humans at this point have only vaguely learned some of. The humans are only on the ship for a good twelve hours because certainly the autobots are afraid as hell. Miko isn't because Miko is bold as hell, and at this point has somewhat desensitized Soundwave to her presence. Hazard drags Fowler to their lab with the intent to run experiments onto him and the kids are just kinda vaguely near the commanders. More terrorcon Megatron jokes ensue, because all he wants to do right now is make the most of his re reinstated quarters privileges. Fowler discovers the lost vehicon, (who i now dub Sidewinder because ykw ykw we've mentioned this guy enough that he deserves a two part name) which is a whole thing because he's gotten attached to them. Soundwave, who upon learning that Hazard has gotten the vehicons' favorite human and those guys are making a convincing case. Soundwave comes to the rescue for Fowler and Sidewinder, most certainly scruffs Hazard because of the rules violations he sees immediately upon entering the lab. The other vehicons actually nab both Sidewinder and Fowler, and it's a whole thing about rushing the mech to quarantine and frantically thanking both Soundwave and Fowler for rescuing him. Eventually, the autobots find their way onto the Nemesis and boy do the humans have a story to tell. This would also explain why in the sparkling fic Soundwave would've been pretty concerned about Megatron getting off the ship (btw he bribed Breakdown with string lights, the really good multicolored ones, and by pleading him to let him fly. Megan had no intention to give him the lights but Soundwave much exactly went in and got them for Breaky)

The surprise child is revealed after some missed appointments (likely merely a week). Around this point the neutral hired theraputic medic Rung arrives in the Chance, and upon the first visit he's pretty surprised at the emotional support sparkling. Also around this point, Tarn's presence is being slowly less and less tolerated on the Nemesis but let's be real that's also because of his one sided and slightly scary rivalry with the beep beep jeep, and the knowledge that he's most definitely still writing Megatarnma fics. At some point in what I'm now dubbing the beginning of the Oh Shit A Child arc, Swindle cut a deal with the Autobots with trading earth based luxury goods for Cybertronian luxury goods he has obtained. Surprisingly this does actually go fairly well for both parties, and neither betrays the other.

I'm betting the autobots didn't learn about the sparkling for hear this yet for another threeish months because wow they didn't want to deal with the awkwardness of telling them. I haven't quite decided how, exactly, but dear Primus it is juicy. At some point, Megatron is allowed back on the bridge and is a little less obsessively territorial with his sparkling. Which leads to so many cute interactions where he's holding Silverlight and mecha try to hide their gawking at a respectable distance. So 13-14 months? Tarn, at this point, is just... not allowed on the Nemesis. He's too dangerous and unpredictable to be around something so vulnerable and way important to their leader who already has notorious murderous leanings. Swindle is pretty relieved at this because i mean he definitely doesn't like being grabbed, and Knockout is glad because it means he doesn't have to treat another one of Tarn's stab wounds from said picking up.

Inevitably, Tarn learns of Silverlight and is very not happy that it threatens his fantasy. The Fallen sees this and thinks "okay finally we can get all of this moving a little faster" ... this may also be because I'm thinking thoughts about how Tarn's Voice has an impact on the Fallen even through the dimensional barrier. Sure, not Nearly as strong as it would be on a complete mortal, but it's somewhat an influence. He may be manipulating Tarn much easier than he did in canon with Steeljaw, but he cannot deny that this Tarn has more power than previously thought. The demigod is not used to being dare I say scared after millennia of being trapped. This is when Tarn's darkness in this au starts to really become apparent.

In this short time period in the first month or so after his discovery, Tarn's scorn is limited to quite a few savior fics fics involving Optimus and the sparkling. But eventually there is a public outburst where he sees Pharma for the first time in ages, and Pharma outright states that nobody loves Tarn, especially not Megatron nor himself, and that he honestly couldn't see why anyone could love Tarn. Which, might've been a shitty thing to say but this is when the events of Delphi get revealed so. Aaaand this is when Tarn, before openly threatens Megatron, Optimus, Pharma, Ratchet, and the sparkling (because let's be real Tarn has really and truly snapped at this point, and is willing to do just about anything to get what he wants.)

This will not end well for him.

So... that totals up (using the maximum ranges of the numbers i stated up above, naturally this will not be exact, and since this au is absolutely open to you guys' input as well, I'm fully willing to hear any of y'all's thoughts on the timeline and what you think should be changed to make more sense) bringing us to roughly a little over a year and a half 😁

Originally I was going to include all the way until the end of the Tarn and fallen fiasko, but it got so damn long i didn't have the energy to elaborate on that. But, for context, there's that, there's the events between it and the war over party, what happens beyond that and before the insecticons come up (which i imagine smack dab in the middle of that time period is the discovery about the true nature of the additive), the insecticon stuff, a lil gap between that, a relatively short ordeal with MECH and after that... afterward is pretty much the happy ending

[angelictaehyun]

PAIRING: guardian angel!taehyun x fem!reader

GENRE: guardian angel au, soulmate au, fluff, angst

WC. 8,400+

WARNINGS: major character(s) illness, minor alcohol usage, mild language

SYNOPSIS: Kang Taehyun, a sassy, young guardian angel, didn’t think anyone could be more of an absolute mess… boy, was he mistaken.

PART ONE || PART TWO || INTERLUDE || PART THREE

.

taehyun was right, something you didn’t care much to admit. 

you absolutely adored kai. 

if you searched “lovable younger brother” in a dictionary, no doubt kai’s picture would appear beside the definition. he was childish, a bit odd, sweet as honey, and outstandingly attentive. the dynamic was quite different with him. he was just as protective and loving as taehyun, but there was a complete lack of emotional attachment. 

you found it refreshing. 

with taehyun, it was almost like you were drawn to each other both physically and mentally as if a string were pulling you together. the longer you remained apart, the more you hurt, but you hid it as best as possible— kai was bright and bubbly, you didn’t like the idea of him seeing anything less than that. 

you fiddled with the fabric of your blanket, mind full of incoherent thoughts, while kai engrossed himself with the movie on the television screen. lately, you often found yourself like this— detached and numb. however, if there was one person to reel you back from the empty feeling, it was kai. you watched him with a fond smile. you were thankful for the young boy, just being in his high-spirited presence, seeing his smile, hearing his obnoxiously loud laugh... it made things hurt just a little less.

“hey, kai?”

he turned his head slightly but kept his eyes glued to the screen, “yeah, what’s up?”

“i think i’m going to turn in, i’m getting sleepy,” you mumbled quietly.

your cracked, dull voice didn’t slip past him. he was concerned of course, but you were hesitant to let him in, to let down your barriers. he sighed to himself before giving you his full attention along with a soft smile, “okay. goodnight y/n, sweet dreams.”

“sweet dreams,” you repeated.

“actually wait, y/n. uh, i just wanted to tell you that i know i’m not him... but i’m always here to talk if you want,” he stated shyly. you felt guilty. you wanted to let him in, really, but everything hurt all the time and you just didn’t have the energy. he didn’t know how much you wanted to talk to him, to cry on his shoulder, to eat copious amounts of ice cream with him, but you were hesitant. hesitant and very much in pain, both mentally and physically.

you simply nodded your head in acknowledgment and gave a soft smile before making your way to your bedroom. you climbed into your bed and wrapped a plush quilt around your feverishly warm body which contrasted the cold, empty bed. you clutched onto a plushie and tried to drive away the negative thoughts, but to no avail, they plagued your mind once again.

just forget about him, he’s never coming back.

you laid there, fiddling with the sheets beneath you, hesitant to fall asleep. lately, you absolutely despised sleeping. your unconscious mind enjoyed playing cruel tricks on you, constantly making you dream of taehyun. the dreams mocked you, reminded you that he would never come home. you hated the moments right after waking up. for a few minutes, you were able to lay in bed, believing everything was alright, that there was no heartbreak or loss. you missed being held by him, having his warmth beside you as he played with your hair and hummed a sweet melody. it never failed to lull you to sleep— his touch was always soothing.

you both came such a long way.

going against every bone in your body, you squeezed your eyes shut and let yourself indulge in the memory of the first time he ever held you close.

taehyun sat on your bedroom floor, irritated and resentful, as you turned on high school musical for the fourth time in the span of thirty-six hours. he narrowed his eyes and flashed you an exhausted, disgusted gaze but you failed to notice, your head easily hidden in the mountain of plushies, tear-stained tissues, and blankets on your bed. you had an annoying habit of mumbling along to the movie and singing— more like yelling— along to the musical numbers. you had the vocal abilities of a brick and he promised himself that if he had to listen to your off-key, horrid singing one more time, he would tear his beloved wings out. he settled himself on the edge of your bed, picking away at the stuffed animals and blankets surrounding you.

“y/n... talk to me. please,” he begged. he was hoping to distract you from the movie and forcing you to speak was the only way he truly knew how. 

you paused the movie and snapped, “leave me alone.”

“see, here’s the thing. i can’t exactly ‘leave you alone’ since it’s quite literally my job to constantly be by your side,” he reminded you smugly. you peaked your head out from under the blankets and threw him a lethal glare. he threw his hands up and surrendered, “fine. have it your way. can you at least move over so i can watch too?”

you sighed before unwrapping yourself from your makeshift blanket burrito and scooting to the side. you sat shoulder to shoulder as an awkward silence fell over the room. he inhaled sharply and glanced at your expectantly but not before mentally preparing himself for your random musical outbursts.

“well, what are you waiting for? ...press play.”

if there was anything worse than your singing, it was your crying and boy, were you doing a lot of crying... you were always a sucker for romantic movies. you clutched your hands to your chest, happy tears spilling over as the ending credits rolled. though, you were quickly brought out of your post-movie haze as you felt light taps on your head. you slowly turned to the side to see taehyun awkwardly patting you, his amusing but unhelpful way of comforting you.

yeah... this doesn’t seem right, he thought to himself.

he retracted his hand only to hesitantly circle his arm around your shoulder and pull you into him. you immediately tensed yet you didn’t pull away, the reasoning beyond you. you adored how he smelled like sweet cinnamon and gingerbread; you did your best to ignore the way his scent made your heart flutter. he cringed to himself before squeezing you tighter— he wasn’t much for physical affection. god, the things he did for this job.

you opened your eyes and shook your head fondly at the memory, a humorless laugh escaping your lips— it was amusing how awkward and hesitant you both were. you tried conjuring more memories but your tired eyes fluttered shut and your mind went blank. in that moment, a dull ache manifested in your chest but you paid no mind, sleep washing over you quickly.

· ──────────────────── ·

the following morning, you woke not to the soft sunlight streaming through the window, but to the sharp pain in your lungs which encroached on your ability to breathe. you gripped your pillow harshly and let out a muffled sob, attempting to relieve some of the pain. unfortunately, this had become a common development, so you tried your best to ignore the pain and hide it, especially in front of kai. you didn’t want to worry his pretty head, especially when telling him wouldn’t relieve any of the pain, it would just make the both of you miserable. you slowly rolled out of bed, trudging into your bathroom to wash your face. you wanted to maintain some semblance of normalcy, it kept you grounded and your mind off of taehyun. you found the pain usually subsided the longer the day went on, so you did your best to cope.

you tried ignoring kai’s heinously loud snores as you trudged out the front door. his body was curled up on the wooden flooring of your living room, hidden underneath his iridescent wings as if it were a substitute blanket. you glanced at his bedroom, which was less than six feet away, and sighed. his ability to sleep anywhere was amusing, though a bit concerning.

lately, kai had taken a liking, though you would argue obsession, to cold brew. it was partially your fault though, your caffeine dependency had exponentially increased, consequently rubbing off on him. being the good older sister you were, plus the fact that once again, you woke up at an ungodly hour, you decided to run a few errands and pick up coffee for you both before he woke up.

you dragged your exhausted body into the nearby café, the scent of java and freshly baked goods waking you up instantly. beomgyu stood behind the counter, a sunny smile already plastered on his face as if he were waiting for you.

“ah, you’re late! i was starting to worry i wouldn’t get to see my favorite customer today,” he mused, a cheeky grin appearing on his stunning features. that handsome face and lively personality reeled in a lot of tips, you just knew it. though, he reserved his extra friendly smile for you, or at least that’s what he told you. seeing you, an old friend from high school, was always a highlight of his shift. you were one of the few reasons he enjoyed working the morning rush.

before you could comprehend his statement, he continued, “same order, right?”

you gave him a half-hearted smile and nodded, hesitant to speak as you feared your hoarse, sleep-filled voice would betray you. he flashed you a small wink and turned around. he danced behind the counter, humming to himself quietly as he made your iced coffee. he was always so full of energy, even in grade school— age didn’t change that fact. you watched as he gracefully poured sweet cream into your cup, the coffee turning light brown— just the way you liked it.

“y/n.”

you admired the way the milk cascaded down the plastic cup and blended with the coffee. it distracted you from the ache in your chest.

“y/n,” beomgyu repeated, snapping his nimble fingers in front of your face, breaking you out of your haze. you were so embarrassed.

“oh god, i’m sorry, i wasn’t paying much attention.”

“hm, i could tell,” he chuckled softly, a silvery sound you always loved hearing. he handed you the coffee and scanned the cafe before discretely sliding a sugary pastry across the counter. you tried protesting but he didn’t budge, shutting you down instantly.

“hush. lately, you’ve been out of it... ever since that boy left. trust me, i get it,” he sympathized, flashing you an understanding smile.

“thank you,” you muttered sheepishly, accepting the warm cookie.

“mhm, don’t mention it, it’s my job as a friend to make sure you’re well-fed and you’re looking a bit under the weather. i’ll see you later this week, yeah?”

you nodded softly, “of course.”

when you stepped outside, you stared at the bright sky and let the sun warm your skin, happily relishing the moment. you didn’t know much about angels, save for the fact that they exist, but you liked to think taehyun sat perched on a cloud and watched over you.

when you arrived home, the scent of burnt food was the first thing you were greeted with. dirty dishes were splayed out across your kitchen island and bits of pancake batter stuck to the walls. a nervous kai stood in front of the stove, attempting to not burn another pancake and easily failing. you set the coffee on the countertop and sighed, “kai, what are you doing?”

“hey! y/n! wow, you’re back so soon! how was the café?” he asked, hoping he could steer clear of the upcoming scolding but much like the pancakes, failing miserably. you didn’t answer his question, rather you studied the messy room, eyes instantly landing on an unused fire extinguisher. your eyebrows lifted curiously.

“... just in case,” he explained. he shrunk in on himself and shifted uncomfortably. he didn’t want to upset you, especially not when you were heartbroken. you nodded your head understandingly, chuckling to yourself as you began preparing a bowl of pancake batter.

he seemed stunned, “you... don’t seem mad at me...”

“ah, you were just trying to make us a nice breakfast! why do you think i’d be mad?”

“oh... i don’t know, i just thought you’d be upset,” he mumbled softly. in response, you smiled mischievously before dipping a finger into the batter and swiping a bit on his nose. he grinned in return, taking his own handful and splattering it on your cheek.

“oh, you’re definitely gonna pay for that,” you challenge.

he stood on his tip-toes and stuck his tongue out childishly, “you’re going to have to reach me first.”

you both giggled and played until there was more pancake on your clothes than on the stove. he might have been a couple centuries old but he had such a young and active spirit. his smile was outstandingly bright and it brought you so much joy. because of him, for the first time in a long while, your smile was genuine and you couldn’t feel any pain.

· ──────────────────── ·

you were quite wrong. 

taehyun wasn’t sat atop a cloud. instead, he was curled up on soobin’s old couch with a scorching fever. he shook violently, the pain overwhelming him, but all he could focus on was the thought of you. he thought about your crinkly eyes when you laughed at one of his stupid jokes, the small bites you took from your food and the way you insisted it helped you savor the food when really you were just picky. he thought about the way you always clutched onto his shirt when he kissed you, the way you couldn’t help but sob at a sad commercial, and the way you would try to hide your blush when he flirted with you. though, the thought that occupied his mind the most was your vibrant smile. god, your smile. it was art. it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen and he’d seen the world; he’d been alive during the renaissance but he thought your smile outdid any piece. he would’ve done anything to see it again. the thought of you broke his heart, shattered him into little pieces, but he couldn’t stop.

he groaned in agony, grasping at the seams of the nearest pillow. soobin watched the younger from the opposite side of the room, a worried expression painted across his face, “jesus tae, what the hell is wrong with you?”

taehyun ignored the question, the dull ache in his head muffled the older’s voice anyways.

“you’ve been like this for months, this is not a normal breakup,” soobin continued. it was true, ever since he left you, his health had been deteriorating to the point where soobin knew this wasn’t just heartbreak, it was something beyond that. taehyun wondered how you were faring, he hoped you were doing better than him. he was clueless, the only thing soobin told him was that you were a little under the weather— understatement of the decade.

“bub, something is seriously wrong. angels shouldn’t get this sick. you need help. i’m sure someone will know what to do,” soobin assured hopefully. the older shook his head helplessly, his mind trying to run through all the potential reasonings for the sickness. he hated seeing taehyun this way.

taehyun might not have known much, but he knew what would at least quell the pain. though selfish, something an angel should never be, he knew he had to see you.

· ──────────────────── ·

your condition went to shit almost overnight.

kai had tried everything: tea, warm baths, herbs, all sorts of therapeutic techniques, and every single medication on the planet. none of it helped in the slightest. the pain which had started in your chest had spread downward, running from your ribs to your lower extremities. your sickness was working it’s way out, slowly overtaking your body, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. even the doctors couldn’t find a solution. while kai spent most of his time frantically scrounging for new healing techniques and medication, he was often found right beside you, attached at the hip— something you hadn’t experienced since taehyun. kai always held your hair back when you puked, wrapped you in blankets when you shivered, and prepared soup for you when your throat was sore— albeit the food was near inedible. he was the perfect guardian angel. he loved you so much, he didn’t know what he’d do if he lost you.

kai was out, once again, fetching a random medication that he didn’t even think would work, but he told himself it was better than nothing. it pained him to leave you alone, but he knew he had to try. you, on the other hand, made a beeline for the wine bottle you kept hidden in the back of your pantry, the second kai shut the front door. you liked to think you were handling your heartbreak well, or at least masked it flawlessly. looking back on your breakup with yeonjun, you scolded yourself for handling it so childishly. with taehyun, though not necessarily a normal breakup per se, it was far more unbearable yet you handled it... maturely. or at least that’s what you told yourself. you plastered on a false facade of normalcy, keeping everything bottled up, ignoring the little voice in your head that told you this was an unhealthy way to cope. but looking at the bright side, at least you were functioning and there wasn’t a disgusting pile of used tissues growing beside your bed.

this particular night was the only time, for just a few freeing minutes, you didn’t hurt. the pain subsided and was pushed to the back of your mind— all thanks to the light buzz of the alcohol. you stood on your small balcony, wine glass in hand, staring out into the cold darkness of the night. your mind was a bit fuzzy and despite the frigidness of the air, you felt warm.

“taehyunie... i miss you so much,” you giggled to yourself. not often you called him by that nickname but you knew he secretly loved it. you leaned carelessly against the edge of your balcony and looked to the heavens, mumbling taehyun’s name until you were shouting. a part of you hoped that repeatedly calling his name into the darkness of the night would bring him back to you— much like the bloody mary tactic.

you closed your eyes and tried again, “taehyun!”

your mind was too fuzzy to acknowledge the glow burning beside you. before you could comprehend the situation, a hand was roughly tugging you away from the balcony. you were instantly pressed against the glass door behind you, the wine bottle getting ripped from your hands easily. your vision was blurry but the second his figure came back into view, your vision became clear as day. taehyun stood in front of you, as beautiful as always, but noticeably paler and thinner— even his wings lost their captivating glow.

“jesus y/n, are you trying to wake the entire apartment complex, what are you doing?”

his presence was immediately sobering.

you were at a complete loss of words, too stunned by his presence to speak. he hovered over you protectively which eased your mind and heart. he stood so close to you, practically sharing the same air. it was unbelievable. you slowly brought your hand up to his face, too scared to move any faster in fear that he might vanish into thin air. maybe this was a lovely fever dream, but the way he let out a shaky breath and wrapped his hand around your small wrist told you otherwise. he was finally with you, his home, after so many weeks apart.

you threw your arms around his neck and gasped, “i can’t believe it worked.” 

he immediately wrapped his strong arms around your frame and breathed you in. he missed your warm hugs, the way you always smelled like lavender and fabric softener, and he especially missed the way you fit perfectly in his arms like he was meant to hold you. holding you was like holding a piece of his heart. he rested his chin on the crown of your head, closing his eyes momentarily before opening them once more and shaking his head, “wait, wait, what worked?”

“oh! i called your name until you appeared.”

he tucked a couple of loose strands of hair behind your ear and cooed, “silly girl, that’s not how it works.”

a light blush painted your cheeks, a bit embarrassed for thinking that was the reason he came. he chuckled softly and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead before continuing, “i was already on my way here, i just needed to make sure you were okay. but i don’t have long, soobin will notice i’m gone.”

you nodded slowly, the weight of his words sinking in and stinging. he brushed one hand against your cheeks, tracing over your cheekbone lightly while his other hand gripped your waist, “let me kiss you.”

his bluntness shocked you but you didn’t shy away. his eyes flitted around your face, wanting to capture every detail before he kissed you. when he finally leaned in and pressed his plush lips on yours, it felt like oxygen returning to your lungs after holding your breath for so long. the sounds of the cars driving below, people chatting amongst themselves, airplanes flying above— it was all silenced, the only thing that mattered was him. all he could feel, see, touch, breathe... it was all you. the unspoken finality settled in the space around you, telling you it would be your last kiss. you didn’t notice the tears slowly streaming down your face until you tasted salt on your lips, but that didn’t stop him, if anything it drove him to kiss you deeper.

he wanted to kiss all the tears and pain away. 

he pulled away to wipe his thumbs under your eyes, catching the loose tears as they fell uncontrollably. he didn’t fare much better as his vision became blurry but he tried to hold it in as best as possible. you clutched onto his shirt and let reality sink in, both acknowledging that this would be the last time in each other’s touch. your cheeks were puffy and flushed red. he couldn’t help but smile— your raw beauty was enchanting.

“i love you. i’ll always love you,” you whispered, voice hoarse from the crying. he wiped the tears from your cheeks. you leaned into his touch wanting to savor every second.

“you are the love of my life. i might not be by your side anymore, but one day, i will be. i know it. i’ll come back to you and we’ll be together again. i promise you i’ll never lose hope,” he declared, pressing a long kiss to your forehead.

“please don’t go. please. just stay with me,” you begged, desperately grabbing his hands in a final plea.

“babygirl, i have to go, i shouldn’t be here,” he whispered softly. he hated hurting you. he absolutely hated himself for it, for having to leave you. your body racked with sobs as he pressed a final kiss to your lips, “goodbye, my love.”

and in a flash of light, he was gone.

your hands grabbed at nothing but air. you stared ahead at the lively city beneath you, a stark contrast to the dead, lonely emptiness you felt. his sweet cinnamon scent still lingered in the air around you and you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to relish in the last bit of him you’d ever get. unfortunately, the moment didn’t last long as a searing pain shot through your body causing you to double over in pain, the white behind your eyes quickly turning black.

· ──────────────────── ·

the harsh fluorescent lighting cast down upon you in the most unpleasant manner as you groggily woke from your deep slumber. your eyes trained on the ceiling above you which was littered with old water stains and peeled paint. your mind ran wild with frantic thoughts but was quickly silenced by a pain shooting down your left arm. the cardiac monitor beside you mirrored the panic you felt, the tempo of your heartbeat increasing with each rushed thought and you suddenly became increasingly aware of the needle stuck in your arm and the rough sheets scratching your bare legs.

“hey, y/n, shh everything is alright. you’re in the hospital,” a familiar voice explained.

you craned your neck towards the sound, wincing from the dull ache in your neck. your vision was a bit hazy but you could still see the outline of a thin boy sitting on the hospital bed beside you.

“don’t move too much, you’re pretty bruised up,” he continued.

you quickly distinguished the soothing, deep voice, “... beomgyu?”

“hi princess. shh, don’t strain your voice, you’ve been out for a couple days now. you need some water,” he stated softly and you could hear the concern laced in his voice. your vision sharped, landing on his bright yellow sweater. he stood out like a sore thumb, especially considering the drabness of the hospital.

“beom, what are you doing here?”

“ah, i’m your guardian angel of course! i have to watch over you,” he joked cheekily.

your eyes practically bulged out of your head and you were left at a loss of words, no, this can’t be real.

“... jeez y/n, i’m kidding. obviously, angels don’t exist,” he clarified, scrunching his nose concerningly. you flashed him a small smile and mustered up a nervous laugh in response. if he noticed any hesitancy from you, he didn’t mention it.

“right... anyways, i’m here because you haven’t shown up at the café in a few days and also i’m your emergency contact. remember?”

your mind flashed back to a very blurry night, where both of you made silly promises and spilled drunken confessions. you were fighting with yeonjun, yet again, and you ran to beomgyu’s apartment crying. he comforted you with alcohol, ice cream, and poorly plotted movies. you both felt alone, having only each other to rely on, so you both made a pact to always be there for each other. step one was making each other your emergency contacts, though, you didn’t quite get to step two, considering you both passed out on his living room floor.

“... huh, that was so long ago,” you mumbled.

“yeah, you’re telling me, thank god yeonjun’s ass is out of your life, i still can’t believe he cheated on you,” he grumbled angrily. you simply hummed in agreeance.

silence filled the room as both of you reminisced on old times. a part of you wished you could go back, and though you fought with yeonjun quite a bit, it was far less painful than what you experienced now. you tried to ignore the sadness, letting your eyes study the environment. the room was cramped but homey, the warm sunshine that streamed through the windows reflected off the white walls comfortingly. the hospital floor you were on was quite high up, the sky seemed closer to you than usual. you let a soft sigh escape your lips as you watched a puffy cloud float by. your thoughts ran loose again but the one thought that stood out the most was about him— the boy you had lost. muffled sounds traveled through your ears but you didn’t process them until beomgyu called your name.

“... and y/n, you’re pretty lucky, i think that boy of yours came back! you’re totally right, he’s really cute. he’s been attached to your side but i think he’s out talking to the doctor right now,” beomgyu rambled on.

his statement captured your full attention. your heart fluttered at the thought of taehyun being back by your side. you eagerly shifted your gaze towards the door, awaiting his return, completely ignoring the throbbing ache at the nape of your neck. your vision was still blurred but you were able to distinguish the tall, lanky frame of a boy trudging through the door.

“oh! perfect timing, here he is!”

“y/n!” the boy excitedly shouted. kai’s voice was unmistakable and you despised the way your heart dropped, just slightly. he’d been your rock for the past couple months. you were unfair, even now, when all kai did was diligently watch over you and love you. he hovered over your injured body, grabbing your hand to hold against his chest. you could see the obvious glint of worry in his eyes, he truly did care for you.

“you’re okay...” kai whispered softly. he sat on the edge of your bed and circled his thumbs over your hands soothingly. he turned to face beomgyu, “hey, thanks for watching over her while i was out, i appreciate it.”

beomgyu wasn’t blind. he knew this wasn’t the boy who broke your heart, the boy that would never come back. he watched your body deflate when kai stepped into the room, hope leaving your body. he flashed kai a cheery yet guilty smile, “yeah of course! y/n and i go way back, i’ll always look out for her.”

kai directed his attention back to you, noting the slight confusion and panic you held despite being around people you loved and cared for. he nodded his head understandingly, “two nights ago, i came home to find you unconscious on your balcony. your body was so cold but for some reason, your forehead was really hot. i brought your here for testing but the doctor can’t find anything wrong with you. they said your brain activity and vitals are normal, not to mention the fact that you have shown no physical symptoms. i tried to convince them to keep you here so they can monitor you but they’re sending you home.”

your body relaxed as you processed the information. your illness, whatever it was, didn’t concern you as much as it should have. it’s not that you didn’t care but the gravity of your situation hadn’t fully settled in. your physical appearance, though sickly and pale, fared much better in comparison to your internal health. your lungs were caving in on itself and your heart was becoming significantly weaker. you never got better, only worse, and kai blamed himself. he knew something was off yet he kept his distance, not wanting to upset you. he didn’t know that his efforts were a waste and nothing he did would help.

kai shuffled around the small room and let you sleep once more but you couldn’t. instead, you kept your eyes shut and listened to the easy, casual banter between the two boys, both forming an instant connection. it warmed your dying heart. you so badly wished you could be that person for kai— a reliable friend, a confidant. even though he was the guardian angel, you did your best to look out for him as he did you, you just preferred doing it from a safe distance. he treated you like family, like an older sister, but your relationship arguably should’ve been a lot closer for the time you spent together. you pushed him away and built unnecessary walls, and what was the point? your heart was heavy but it wasn’t from your illness nor was it from the heartbreak you felt— it was from the guilt of shutting out the one person that loved you unconditionally.

after a few hours of faux sleep and trying to contain your smile from the sound of the boy’s muffled laughter, you were discharged and brought home. kai insisted on carrying you from the car, up the stairs, and into your warm bed, refusing to leave your side for even a split second. if you moved, he would follow you around the apartment like a lost puppy. it was heartwarming, the amount of compassion a single soul could carry. yes, kai was an angel, but his ability to love and empathize was beyond any supernatural explanation— it was just the way he was built.

he sat beside you and wrapped you tightly in a blanket, “are you feeling any better? do you want anything? i can go make us some snacks if you want.”

you softly smiled and shook your head, “no, it’s alright. i think i just want to rest. maybe i’ll get some homework out of the way or i’ll just go back to sleep.”

the thought was quickly retracted when something lodged in your throat, coughing only worsening the feeling. kai rushed to grab a towel and watched helplessly as you hacked into the soft fabric, rubbing your back in an attempt to comfort you. when you pulled away, both pairs of eyes directed to the blood splattered across the towel, though before either one of you could react, a white-hot pain overwhelmed your body. your heaved breathes struggled to escape your lips but your agonized scream didn’t. you clutched onto his t-shirt before collapsing into his lap, knocking out cold.

· ──────────────────── ·

after six panic-filled calls with kai, soobin frantically paced around his house— a nice perk of being an elder angel with a lack of guardianship duties. honestly, his job description was pretty vague. he spent most of his time wandering the earth and enjoying the beauty it had to offer. he didn’t have to watch over a human, rather, he watched over younger angels, making sure they performed their jobs correctly, and on the rare occasion, having to strip wings if an angel went buck wild and succumbed to sin.  

taehyun’s symptoms were less severe due to his supernatural status— the effects of illness would manifest slower. sure, there were a few times he did nothing but writhe in agony... but it wasn’t as often as you. he was more or less deteriorating from the outside, the illness working its way in. he was concerningly pale and what once was smooth, hydrated skin was now dry. the rosy, soft lips he used to kiss you with were now severely chapped but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. it was rare that taehyun slept, even with you. he preferred to watch over you, stroking your hair and pressing kisses along your shoulders while you dreamt, but lately, he’d been so drained of energy and all he could do was sleep.

soobin watched the younger curl up and shiver despite being under three wool blankets. something about this specific situation seemed oddly familiar to soobin— the way both you and taehyun were deteriorating at an alarming rate. the sickness worked oppositely amongst the two of you, his illness painfully manifesting exteriorly and working its way in versus your illness which began internally. similarly, your pain stemmed from the torso and worked its way to your extremities while his began in his limbs and worked its way up to his chest. it was the same disease but it worked inversely, and soobin, for the love of god, could not pinpoint why he felt like he’d seen this before.

soobin hesitantly made his way onto his back patio, wanting the younger to sleep in peace. the chill air was refreshing especially with taehyun’s rising body temperature warming the living room, making it insufferable. he plopped onto his old, rickety rocking chair and closed his eyes, drowning out everything but the bird’s chirping. the wind lightly brushed against his skin comfortingly and he welcomed the gentle touch. it was calming, the way the leaves rustled amongst the golden sky— he wished the world was always this peaceful and serene. a small brush against his ankles revived him from his near-sleep state. when he peered down, there was nothing but the wooden boards under his feet but he swore he felt a distinct touch. a lightbulb flickered in his mind.

“oh shit.”

as if the world was falling apart, he scrambled back into his house, realizing the familiarity of the situation.

“taehyun, taehyun, you need to wake up,” he shook aggressively. taehyun didn’t budge, instead, he let out a small, annoyed grunt of acknowledgment. soobin continued, “taehyun, you need to get up. i know why you’re sick.”

the declaration seemed to wake the younger but he didn’t display much enthusiasm due to his unabated exhaustion. he cautiously opened one eye and grumbled as if that sufficed as a good response.

soobin scratched the back of his neck and continued nervously, “um, well, you see... you’re... soulmates.”

taehyun slowly sat up and leaned against his elbows, narrowing his eyes in disbelief. he shook his head, he’s kidding, right?

“no, i’m being completely serious,” soobin deadpanned as if he could read the younger’s thoughts.

“fine, humor me.”

“god, it was such a long time ago, but when i was young, i went to a beach. wait. no, it was the woods. yeah, the woods because there was a willow tree. anyways, it was windy and—”

taehyun quickly cut him off, “bin, you’re rambling and not making any sense.”

soobin inhaled deeply, regaining his thoughts before starting again, “okay, when i was younger, i came across an old, prophetic-like scripture. it told a story of soulmates that were separated from each other and because they weren’t together, their physical and mental state deteriorated. uh, there was also something off about the ending... it was pretty wack. it kind of warned me about another set of soulmates... i don’t really know how to explain it, but i think you and her are the next set.”

taehyun audibly scoffed. a bewildered expression covered his face as he eyed the older as if he weren’t in his right mind.

“hyung... soulmates... hate to break it to you, but they... don’t exist,” taehyun tried explaining slowly, hoping his pace would make soobin understand.

“aiya, stop talking to me like i’m a child. i didn’t believe it either but it makes sense. you both have this weird, mysterious illness that’s only getting worse but the only time you felt a bit better was when you saw her a few weeks ago. and yeah, before you say anything, i know about that. you’re the worst at lying.”

taehyun deflated into the couch but not before a harsh coughing fit. his lungs felt so restricted and the air felt thinner.

“hyung, i think i’m dying,” he stated weakly.

“no shit.”

the entirety of this situation crushed soobin. one of his oldest friends, the young boy that loved him like a brother, was dying. it was so painful to watch but he didn’t feel helpless anymore, he knew exactly what to do.

“get up. let’s go see y/n.”

taehyun perked up, just slightly, his energy too drained he could barely move. the older dragged him off the couch and wrapped a wing around the sick boy, trying to keep his shivering, weak body warm.

· ──────────────────── ·

much like soobin, kai was frantically pacing back and forth when the oldest dragged taehyun’s limp body through your front door. sunshine streamed through your windows, brightening the room yet everything felt dull as if all the life and energy in the room were slowly seeping out of the apartment.

“um, she’s in her room,” kai mumbled worriedly.

just from that small interaction, taehyun could see how scared the youngest was, how much he loved and cared for you. he felt grateful and indebted to kai; he was so glad that you had someone like kai watching over you, especially if he was unable to. with little energy, taehyun trudged to your room, the other two boys following closely behind. he opened the door slowly, heart absolutely shattering when his eyes landed on your pale and gaunt frame. he could’ve sworn he could see droplets of dried blood at the corners of your mouth. though as ill as you seemed, he couldn’t help the swell of love and energy that surged through his chest now that he was breathing the same air as you. he practically ran to your bed and enveloped your smaller frame in his. he wrapped his arms around your waist and breathed in the lovely lavender scent he’d grown so fond of.

the other boys coughed lightly, feeling a bit like they had stumbled in on a personal moment. taehyun paid no mind to them though, especially not when you looked so beautiful sleeping. he lightly nudged your arm to wake you but when you didn’t move, he peered down at you concerningly.

“hyung, she hasn’t woken up in the past five hours and i’ve tried everything. the only thing i know is that she’s breathing,” kai clarified.

he was right. you were still breathing but it was so faint and shallow, he shed a tear. you were so lifeless and his heart skipped a beat when you took a bit longer than usual to inhale.

“she’s dying,” taehyun whispered to no one in particular. he pulled you against his chest tightly in a weak attempt to warm your frigid body. he stroked your hair and weakly hummed a sweet song, something he always did when you slept.

“bin, why isn’t she waking up? i’m right next to her, i’m holding her in my arms like i always do... she should be awake,” he sobbed. he felt like he was on the brink of insanity, having you so close yet so far. once again, soobin stood helplessly and picked at his fingers nervously. he really had no idea what to do. he thought that being with you would fix everything but it didn’t.

kai spoked up first after a few moments of painful silence, “hyung, i think you need to lose your wings.”

soobin and taehyun glanced at each other before throwing kai a confused look, both intelligently questioning, “... huh?”

“think about it, it makes sense. you might physically be next to her but you can’t truly be with her while you have your wings. with them, you’ll always have something standing between the two of you,” kai explained diligently. soobin stood dumbfounded, the cogs in his mind turning exceptionally slow.

“i think... he’s right. aw, when did you get so smart, huh?” soobin cheekily asked, ruffling the youngest boy’s hair. kai brushed his hand away playfully, blushing softly at the newfound attention.

taehyun felt your body temperature drop and he wrapped you firmly in a quilt. “take them. i don’t want them anyways, not if it means a life without her,” he whispered.

“tae, it’s not that easy, your wings can’t just be taken away in a snap, there’s a process for this. it’s all very... bureaucratic. an elder angel has to approve,” soobin explained softly, not wanting to upset the younger.

“well, it’s a good thing you’re practically ancient, heck, you were alive to have a crush on cleopatra,” kai joked, trying his best to lighten up the somber mood.

“wait, kai has a point. you’re like, a thousand years old, and you’ve been an elder angel for a couple of centuries now. this isn’t some random case of an angel gone wild, the both of us will actually die. please soobin,” taehyun begged shamelessly. the desperate plea broke soobin’s heart.

“you’ll be mortal again, an average human... you’ll die one day,” soobin reminded while slowly inching towards the bed. taehyun glanced down at your sleeping figure, tracing his large hand over your arm. he understood the cost but he didn’t care. he’d been ready to give up his wings long before he met you, but now he had a reason. he brushed the wisps of your hair away from your forehead before leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss.

he looked at the two boys. taehyun thought they looked scared, maybe hurt, or maybe both. he flashed them an apologetic smile but truth be told, he didn’t feel sorry, especially not when it came to being with you. he took a deep breath and sighed, preparing himself for what was about to come.

“do it.”

to be frank, it hurt a lot more than it should’ve, but that was to be expected from an inexperienced elder angel. taehyun felt every single agonizing second of his wings disintegrating to nothing but dust, the only thing grounding him was the thought of you. he clutched onto your body as if you would ease his pain, but in some ways, you did. he entwined his hands with yours and buried his face in the crook of your neck as the pain grew increasingly worse. though still unconscious, your breaths grew rapid, matching his, like you were experiencing the same aching pain as him. when his wings were fully gone, soobin and kai shared the same pained expression— they had lost their brother, but the idea of taehyun’s happiness did much to quell their hurt. taehyun smiled to himself, feeling free after so long, and entangled his legs with yours. he pressed his lips to the back of your head softly before a familiar darkness washed over him, gently lulling him to sleep.

“he’ll be okay... right,” kai asked, his worried expression growing more concerned with each fleeting second.

“yeah bub, he’ll be fine. both of them will be. they have each other,” soobin gently confirmed. he circled an arm around kai’s shoulder and ruffled his hair affectionately.

“you did good, kai.”

· ──────────────────── ·

you woke up first with a dull ache between your shoulder blades and a warm body pressed against your back. you remained oblivious to his presence, your mind trying to reel in the events that occurred before you fell unconscious. the pain in your chest was practically gone and you felt lighter as if a weight had been lifted off of you.

it wasn’t until he slightly stirred behind you that you realized his presence, the familiar scent of cinnamon and nutmeg suddenly overwhelming your senses. you were scared to turn around, you almost believed it was another realistic fever dream but your instincts told you otherwise. when you looked at him, he was still asleep, his beautiful features softened by the sunlight streaming through the sheer curtains. you nearly shed a tear as you delicately traced a finger down his sharp jawline, fearing he would dissipate into thin air at even the slightest bit of pressure. he seemed livelier. his skin was clear and glowing, the apples of his cheeks were painted pink, and his overall appearance seemed healthier.

his eyes fluttered open, your gentle touches peacefully waking him up. immediately, a deep sigh of relief escaped from his lips. you weren’t just some beautiful dream; he was finally next to you, his home. you didn’t say a word but judging from your trembling lips, you couldn’t even if you wanted. your mind ran rampant but all you could think about was how you were back in his arms. you didn’t notice the tears falling until you felt the pillow beneath you dampen. he pulled you into his chest and threaded his hands through your hair, pressing gentle kisses along your forehead. your walls broke and you sobbed into his chest, overwhelmed with the grief of losing him but also with the joy of being back in his arms.

“it’s been so hard, tae. it’s been so hard without you.”

he closed his eyes and sighed, “oh baby, i know. but i’m here now and i’m never going to leave you again. i promise.”

you ran your hand along his back, stopping when you hit the area where the base of his wings usually started. even when he hid his wings, there were still two visible slits that sat between his shoulder blades, but you could neither see nor feel them anymore. you tensed and swallowed harshly, “um, where are they... where are your wings?”

you already knew the answer but his answer still shocked you.

“they’re gone... i’m not an angel anymore, but please don’t worry, i promise you i’ve wanted to be human for so long. it’s just, because of you, i finally had a good reason to give them up.” he meant every word he said. for the first time in his life, he felt free and unhindered. as an angel, he was able to see the world, meet new people and he loved it but he’d been alive for so long and as much as he truly loved caring for others, he felt lost, almost hopeless. at least until he met you.

you were confused and left with a lot of questions but you didn’t quite know what to say. he wanted to answer all of your questions but he’d gone so long without your lips on his so he leaned down to press a gentle kiss. you let a soft sigh escape, the feeling of his touch after so long was both relieving and comforting. he soothingly ran his hand along your waist, the other threading through your hair. there were so many things left unspoken but the kiss was able to say it all. when he pulled away, you were left breathless and dazed. he kept his face hovered over yours and his eyes shut, wanting to savor the moment.

“i love you,” you whispered.

he missed hearing you say those sweet words. his hand gripped your waist and he shyly smiled, “i love you too.”

honestly, you’d miss his wings, though the more you thought about it, they symbolized his immortality and his inability to truly be yours.

“so... i guess this makes you a fallen angel,” you hummed.

“i guess so since i’ve fallen for you,” he mused cheekily. you lightly pushed his shoulder, his corniness making you cringe, but you couldn’t help the obvious blush that dusted your cheeks. he chuckled softly, entwining your hands once more and pressing a light kiss to your temple. you smiled at him, realizing you were granted a second chance— a bright, wonderful future where you could grow old with him.

“i’m home,” he whispered against your skin. you let out a content sigh as you curled into his chest and closed your eyes, listening to his steady, human heartbeat.

what a beautiful way to begin the rest of your lives together.

[fandom-collective-writers]

A Warm Rain (Shingen Takeda x Reader)

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Pairing: Shingen Takeda x Reader

Prompt: Rain

Warning: Self-indulgent angst

Intended Audience: Female Audience

Word Count: 2,214

Requested by: anonymous​

Written by: @lordsister​

Disclaimer: I do not own Ikemen Sengoku or any of its characters. All of that goodness is the property of Cybird. I do, however, own the plot of this fanfic. Please do not repost or reblog this on any other website.

       A thundering boom shook the walls, nearly drowning out the sound of your cries from beyond the sliding doors he’d been forced to wait outside of. Exhaling a slow breath, Shingen closed his eyes against the tears blurring his vision, a steady stream of silent prayers escaping slightly parted lips as he curled in on himself. Yukimura stood nearby, tapping his foot without a word. The older man could tell he wanted to speak and was grateful that he didn’t. In all his years of fighting, he had never been so terrified before, and all he wanted to do was shut down if he couldn’t do anything to bring an end to your suffering. 

       He just felt so useless.

       Had it been days or hours? Shingen couldn’t tell when each pained scream wrenched at his heart and made him tremble. He had already left bloody crescents in his calloused palms from how hard he’d been clenching his fists, yet he knew the agony he was feeling was nothing compared to what you were going through.

       The rain had started last night, the beginning of what promised to be a serious summer storm making its way across Kai, and had continued through the night, gaining intensity. Just that morning - or was it yesterday morning? - Shingen had been sitting with you, watching it drench the garden and the rest of the castle from your shared room. He’d held you safe and sound, sitting between his legs with his arms wrapped around you and your hands covering his as they rested on your pregnant belly. 

       You had mentioned you’d been feeling pangs when you woke up that morning, but had dismissed them as false contractions. They had occurred a few times in the past few weeks as your due date loomed closer, but you were still a good month away from giving birth. You didn’t seem overly concerned so Shingen decided to trust you on it, but he was still a little concerned, so he insisted you let him pamper you, massaging your sore body from time to time.

       Since you had found out you were pregnant, the love and affection he liked to shower you with had increased exponentially. Every spare moment he had was spent with you, to the point that Yukimura liked to grumble that he was attached to you at the hip. You could barely walk a few steps without Shingen at your heels, asking where you were going, if you wanted anything, if you were feeling okay. It annoyed you sometimes when you were trying to sew in peace, but you couldn’t deny him when he was practically buzzing with joy. 

       “My goddess is pregnant with my child.” Every time he pressed his ear to your growing belly, listening to the sounds of his child moving within, a gentle smile would spread across his handsome face, and he would look up at you with so much love it made your heart swell for the man you’d fallen in love with, for the life you’d created together. “I won’t jinx it by wondering if I deserve to be this happy.”

       Neither of you could wait to meet the child that had been born of your love, a little Takeda prince or princess to love and fawn over and fill Tsutsujigasaki Castle with the sound of little pounding feet. Shingen may have been more excited than you actually. He’d been waiting for a family for so long and now he only had to wait a month longer until his angel added another blessing to the list.

       That morning he was holding you as he usually did when your back was aching or your feet hurt, letting you lean into his chest as his hands rubbed gentle circles into your belly and he pressed kisses into your hair. Every time the baby kicked, he would smile and tap back, chuckling into your neck. “Restless today, huh?”

       “Mmm,” you hummed in agreement, leaning your head back against his shoulder and exposing your neck to him for kissing. “It feels like they’re trying to fight their way out. Definitely a warlord’s kid.” 

       Laughing, he caressed your stomach soothingly, murmuring, “Calm down for Mama, huh? There’ll be plenty of fighting later when Kenshin decides you're old enough to hold a sword.”

       You grimaced and he laughed some more. Of course, you knew he was kidding. There was no way Shingen wasn’t going to let the battle-obsessed war god anywhere near his child for a long time. The thought of Kenshin’s bloodlust rubbing off on his precious baby…

       Suddenly, you gasped and he flew into serious mode, his grip on you tightening protectively. “What? What’s wrong?”

       “Shingen, I - my water broke!” Narrowed gaze snapping to your stomach, he felt you jerk in his arms, a pained yelp escaping your lips. “The baby’s coming!”

       He didn’t waste a second, even though he was panicking inside. Wasn’t it too early? There was still a good month left before the birth was supposed to take place. Had something suddenly gone wrong? ‘God, please no.’ 

       Lifting you in his arms, he took you back inside and settled you onto the futon, pressing a quick kiss to your head before unwinding your fingers from his and running into the hallway. His booming voice filled the hall, rising above the pounding rain and thunder, and soon enough your shared room was filled with other people, Yukimura trying to pull him out even as Shingen remained rooted at your side, brushing sweaty strands of hair away from your forehead and letting you strangle his hand.

       “Shingen-!” you gasped, eyes wide. You knew it was too early and you were scared, scared for your life and the life of your child.

       It took every bit of his rapidly fraying composure not to give you the same terrified look in return, pressing his lips hard against your temple instead. It was a wonder he was able to keep his voice steady as he said, “You’re amazing, my love. You can do this. You're stronger than anyone I know. It’s going to be okay. You and the baby are going to be okay.”

       “Lord Shingen, we can’t stay in here!” Yukimura insisted, tugging harder. The maids and midwife echoed him, but he barely heard, feeling his heart throb painfully as another contraction wracked your pained form.

       “I love you,” he managed before finally letting himself be pulled away, his eyes never leaving you until the sliding door slammed into place before him. It echoed the sound of his heart snapping into pieces, and a sudden flash of lightning made him jump.

       Thus began what felt like the longest wait of his life, the only news to go off of the sound of your cries. He ached to be in there with you, holding your hand and supporting you through the pain, but he didn’t want to get in the way, especially if something really was wrong. 

       Yukimura attempted to talk to him a couple of times as Shingen paced back and forth, but stopped when his lord crumpled to the floor, his strength leaving him as he trembled and prayed to whatever gods were listening.

       He’d been sitting there for hours now, his pain numbing to a blinding ache as the seconds, minutes, hours crept by, each cry chipping away at him in a way he hadn’t known was possible. It was fear and pain and despair sharpened to knife-point and steadily being used to stab away at his hope. The storm made it worse, lightning and thunder adding an ominous sense to his terror and bringing out his worst fantasies. Something was wrong. It must be. It was taking too long, and there was no way he was just going to sit here and let you suffer alone.

       He stood with a snarl and Yukimura startled, reaching for him as he moved to tear open the screen doors. 

       “Lord Shingen, no!” The other man wrapped his arms around his lord’s waist who rounded on him with a glare.

       “Something’s wrong, Yuki. Don’t you dare stop me.”

       “I’m worried too!” he tried to insist, grip tight around his lord’s wrist. “(Y/n)’s my friend! She’s like a sister to me!”

       “And she’s my wife!” he growled, the rumble of thunder answering as he turned to the door again. “Giving birth to our child! I can’t sit here anymore!”

       “I understand, but please wait a little longer!”

       “For her to-?!” he cut off abruptly. He couldn’t say the word, he couldn’t even think it. You couldn’t! Not you! Instead, he ripped his hand out of Yukimura’s grip and reached for the door again.

       A cry interrupted him before he could open it, however, making him freeze. It wasn’t a cry from you, tiny and new instead of the pained groans he’d been listening to for hours. His fingers closed on the door before he fully realized it, yanking it back with a resounding slam.

       Shingen was so scared of what he might find, he practically collapsed in relief when his gaze landed on you. You were a mess, covered in blood and sweat, but you were alive, blessedly, wonderfully alive. 

       He was at your side in a split second, scooping your exhausted body into his arms and cradling you against him. For the first time in hours, he felt safe, holding you safe and sound where you belonged.

       “Sorry. Did I scare you?” you panted, a breathless chuckle wracking your limp form. 

       He tried to laugh back, but a choked sob came out instead. The tears he’d been trying to hold back for hours suddenly rushed forth, streaming down his face as he pressed it into your hair, shoulders shaking. Shingen was so grateful that you were still alive, he couldn’t think of anything to say. All he could do was hold you.

       “Would you like to meet your daughter?” you murmured softly, reaching up to stroke his hair. 

       His watery eyes shot open, his mouth opening and closing before he regained his voice. “A daughter? We have a daughter?”

       You were so tired and weak, but there was a beautiful sparkle in your eyes, a smile on your lips as your gaze shifted away from him and to an approaching nursemaid. He looked as well, and more emotion and anticipation rose in his throat as his eyes fell on the squirming bundle in the other woman’s arms. He couldn’t tear his gaze away as your outstretched arms embraced the bundle, laying it against your chest as he finally beheld his child’s face.

       She had been crying before, but she quieted now, nestled against the familiar warmth of her mother. Shingen could see that she had inherited his coloring, maroon fuzz covering her head and large grey eyes blinking up at him, but he recognized your nose and jawline. He took a shuddering breath and reached out, smiling through his happy tears as a tiny hand wrapped around his finger.

       “You couldn't wait another month, huh?” he chuckled, to which she just blinked at him, cooing as she wiggled. “Is she healthy?” 

       “Yep,” you replied, stroking your thumb across her head. Looking up at him, you asked, “Do you want to hold her?”

       He blinked owlishly at you and nodded, his heart jumping in his chest. Fussing at being handed away from you, she quieted as soon as Shingen had her steady. She looked so tiny in his large hands, little limbs kicking in her swadlings, and he could feel her heartbeat, fluttering like a bird. His tears dripped down his face onto her as his heart swelled in his chest, love for his family drowning the last of his fear. 

       Holding the new Takeda princess in one arm and his goddess of a wife in the other, he pressed his lips to your hair. “Thank you.”

       Leaning up, you kissed his cheek in answer before settling back against him, closing your eyes as 20 hours of labor finally got to you. You felt yourself being laid back onto the futon, and heard the maids ushering your husband and child out again to clean you up before settling to sleep, a smile on your face.

       At the same time, Shingen was still gazing down at the baby in wonder, watching her take in the world around her with pride. There was so much more inside him now, the final pieces falling into place. She’d broken his heart coming into the world, but put it back together just as easily. How amazing was that?

       Sitting down, he smiled as the tiny life in his arms yawned and closed her eyes, tucked safely against his chest. Looking up, he noticed the rain had started to let up, bits of blue sky peeking through the grey. As he watched, a rainbow flared to life, making his smile grow even wider as he reached out to catch the last few raindrops in his hand.

       This day could have gone so much worse. The rain could have been so cold, drenching him as he mourned the loss of what heaven had so graciously given him, but it felt warm instead, life-giving. The future he dreamed of remained perfectly intact, his heart blissfully full.

[thepanicoffice]

A Fragile Peace: Armistice after the Great Culture War

[...]

It’s no secret that I do not have my finger on the pulse of our age. I can, given time, remember to hold a mirror up to its mouth to see if it’s still breathing, but that’s about it. This is largely due my being a seething cauldron of self-regard and venality, but it may be for other equally valid reasons too. I don’t really care.

But that means this esteemed chronicle is falling woefully behind. The last time we broke a story, it was about my torrid affair with the then-Minister of Defence, which I only revealed because, due to an unrelated matter, I needed a public alibi. Sadly, I cannot always rely on my own sexual allure to the political classes to push us to the forefront of news.

The only way to get ahead in the publishing game is to start commissioning stories on things you assume are inevitably going to happen. That’s why I have asked our war correspondent to report back from the frontlines of the impending societal rupture that will define our post-pandemic world. I present to you, from several years hence, the Armistice of the Great Culture War.

[...]

Words by Lydia Happenstance, Culture War Correspondent

Last Friday, on the third day of the third month, 2025, after nearly one and half years of confused and needless violence, the guns, sirens, and opinion pieces fell silent to mark the beginning of Armistice and an end to the Great Culture War.

It began as a battle of words between the UK Conservative Party and an enemy that they had themselves largely created; a Frankenstein’s monster stitched together from scraps of Daily Telegraph premium content, animated by fears of civil unrest and falling house prices.

Their repeated assertions that you can’t say anything anymore, echoed and expanded upon by their outriders in the national press, culminated in the creation of the British Bastion of Culture [1], a paramilitary group whose mission statement was as emphatic as it was baffling: ‘To save Winston Churchill from the Marxists’.

Seeing this as a provocation, a protagonist in the Culture War gradually coalesced. After dozens of public meetings and committees of varying degrees of formality, the People’s Vanguard was established on a Zoom conference call in October 2021. Composed largely of sullen academics, irascible Twitter activists and musicians who have been unable to find meaningful employment since the COVID-19 pandemic, the Vanguard – known more commonly as ‘The Wokeists’ – began to prosecute a bloody and merciless campaign of tolerance on an unsuspecting populace.

They became known for their guerrilla tactics, affixing plaques of detailed historical context about the role of slavery and structural racism onto statues, buildings, and Cabinet Ministers in a series of daring night-time raids. It was said of them that ‘the armies of the Woke never sleep’.

Retaliation from the BBC was swift and unforgiving, as they took control of local television stations and forced broadcasters to play the German episode of Fawlty Towers, which they mistakenly thought was deemed offensive by ‘the Lefties’.

By the end, and possibly from the very beginning, it was clear that many of the combatants no longer understood what they were fighting for, only what they were fighting against. The War became an end in itself, rather than a means to any kind of glorious future. Ultimately, it was attrition and the exponential increase in casualties that made a ceasefire inevitable.

The Armistice was signed in Droitwich, for reasons unknown. It was attended by the democratic committee of the Vanguard, led by their Tribune, the distressingly middle-class Marxist poet, Rupert Trebuchet MA, and by BBC leader and regular Spiked columnist, Sebastian Spitegills. No eye contact was made or pleasantries exchanged as the parties, mediated by the comedian Michael Macintyre – chosen for being so banal and anodyne as to be a wholly neutral party in the Culture War – hammered out the terms of peace.

The Treaty of Droitwich runs to some 270 pages with many complex agreements made. No off-colour jokes are to be told below the 28th parallel, meaning that you will now have to travel North of Ipswich if you want to watch a Carry On film or reference the name of the dog in Dambusters. Equally, those who wish to use the term ‘problematic’ or write a Guardian long read about culturally appropriative Halloween costumes will be obliged to travel to the South of this line that formally marks the schism in our divided nation.

Both parties have agreed to stop using the word ‘triggered’, whether ironically or unironically.

Perhaps most controversially, but in the spirit of compromise, both parties have agreed that certain issues, such as trans rights and the utilitarian calculus of whether or not Churchill was a net positive to the world, will be uniformly responded to with the dictum: “It’s actually very complicated actually.”

The Treaty also allowed for the exchange of prisoners of war, many of whom have been away from their uncomprehending and slightly embarrassed families for many months. Sadly, deaths in the POW camps of both sides have been so high that very few will be returning home. The Bastionites, considering hanging to be a tradition that uniquely represents ‘the very best of British’, have been enthusiastically performing summary executions since hostilities first began. The Wokeists took a less violent but more tedious approach, instead forcing captured fighters to undergo Tesco’s corporate Awareness and Sensitivity Training. Many of the BBC soldiers, however, preferred to take their own lives rather than learn what a microaggression is or how to avoid speaking disparagingly to BAME colleagues. Deaths number in the thousands.

The UK Labour Party hailed this historic accord. Speaking in the House of Commons, party leader Sir Keir Starmer was forceful in his praise for the Treaty, saying: “This is an event that has occurred and we recognise that.”

Prime Minister Michael Gove, when asked for comment, responded obliquely: “My mandibles are sharp and my belly hungry. Bring in the infants that I might slake my abhorrent thirsts.”

Despite the progress that has been made, many observers are predicting that the peace that has been brokered will be a fragile one. On Sunday morning, on the outskirts of the Sussex village of Piddinghoe, a small skirmish broke out over whether the War should be commemorated with red or white poppies. The word ‘Imperialist’ was spray-painted on a telephone box before a library was set on fire in quick reprisal. Many more such incidents can be expected before peace truly settles in.

There are even reports that some will not accept the hard-won peace. Former Commandant Laurence Fox, the second highest ranking General of the BBC army, is said to be stationed in a bunker on the Isle of Man, where he has either not been told or simply refuses to acknowledge the ceasefire. He will not be alone. No contact has been made with Julia Hartley-Brewer’s submarine for more than three weeks.

Speaking to civilians – those who have been victims of the violence, displaced by the upheavals, or simply mildly inconvenienced by having the same episode of Fawlty Towers repeated on their televisions for the last year – they remain unclear as to why any of this happened in the first place.

“I don’t understand any of it,” said Clive Purloin, a roadworks engineer, who was caught briefly in the crossfire as rival groups clashed in Liverpool over whether Ken Dodd was a fascist whose statue should be toppled. “Really. Not a clue.”

It is a view shared by virtually everyone.

The signing of the Treaty of Versailles. It was like this but much, much stupider. ----------------

[1] Only belatedly realising, to their incandescent, bovine fury, that this meant they shared an acronym with an organisation purportedly representing everything that they despised. Attempts to rename the group were prevented by them having entered into a two-year contract for the website domain

[alloveroliver]

Blanc x MC “Drink Me”

NSFW Explicit-  Blanc Lapin Body worship

Ikemen Revolution Fanfic The grandfather clock in the hallway struck Midnight. The faint chime that rang out like the tinkling bell startled me.  The floorboards creaked under my bare feet, as I tiptoed past it. Quietly, I made it back to the bedroom and closed the door silently behind me.  The plush carpet was soft between my toes as I walked back to my side of the bed. I placed the cup of water that I retrieved from the kitchen, down on the side table.  The heavy knock of the glass onto the solid wood was loud enough to rouse him from sleep. I cursed under my breath.  I had been so quiet up until now.

"Darling? What are you doing up?" Blanc's voice was gravelly

"Sorry!" I whispered. "I woke up thirsty, so I went to grab some water." I slid my legs under the cool sheets.  "Ah, I see." My boyfriend wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close to his chest.  I giggled when his hair tickled my cheek. Instead of moving away, shook his head lightly.  Laughing, I pushed him away with one hand.  "Why are you trying to keep me awake?" I joked, playing with a strand of his long hair. "Sorry." He brushed his cheek over mine. "Actually I was dreaming about you."  His hand moved over my forearm down to my palm. He brought the back of my hand up to his lips and kissed it tenderly.  "Oh, Is that so?" I felt a blush dust my cheeks when he placed a second kiss on my wrist.  "Mmhm, quite right." He responded between kisses and slowly trailed up my arm.  "Um-" his lips met my shoulder. "What was it about?" I asked bashfully.  Blanc lifted his head to my face and planted a soft kiss to my nose.  "You were naked, kneeling in front of me." He paused dramatically.  "Oh… One of those dreams" I playfully rolled my eyes.  "Not quite," he smiled l pushing a strand of hair delicately behind my ear. "You were facing away from me, and your body was bathed in light. I swore your glowing aura made you look like an angel."  He kissed the corners of my mouth before plating a full kiss on my lips. I sighed into him, relaxing under his tranquilizing kisses.  He lifted up and eyed me quizzically.  "What is it?" I asked, stifling a yawn. "Would you indulge me for a moment?" His eyes never wavered from mine.  I fidgeted under him, only nodding in agreement.  He lightly kissed my forehead then captured my lips again. He cupped my jaw with his hand and tilted up, causing me to part my lips. Blanc’s tongue glided past my lips, sliding along my own. He tilted his head moving his lips against mine, stealing my breath away. My heart picked up, drumming in my chest. Blanc was a skillful kisser and always managed to make me dizzy with desire without ever actually touching me. "Sit it, if you would." His warm body moved away from mine.  I pushed up with my hands, sitting on the bed.  "I want to undress you." He caressed my cheek with the back of his hand.  "Okay" I looked at him doe-eyed.  Blanc was often spontaneous, but rarely so in the middle of the night. His hands tugged at my overnight shirt.  I lifted my arms and felt my long hair spill put over my shoulders. He laid the fabric gently next to me.  He didn't gawk at my body, instead, he tugged the plush pajama bottoms off. His eyes met mine in an intense stare.  "One more thing." He calmly smiled, pulling my panties down my thighs.  He audibly sighed, showing how flustered he actually was. Outwardly, he looked as put together as usual. He paused when the cloth barrier got to the end of my legs, and I pulled my ankles out. He gently placed all my clothes next to me on the pillow. Another long sigh left him as he raked his eyes over my fully naked for. Finally, he dragged his eyes up to my face and smiled.  "My darling, I would like for you to turn around." He looked slightly worried I wouldn't agree.  His shoulders relaxed when I began to twist my body around. Blanc directed me on how to sit, placing my hands and knees down on the mattress. Blanc kneeled behind me and put both hands on either leg. Gently, he kissed the back of my thigh.  I rested my forehead on to the mattress and closed my eyes. He pressed another heated kiss next to the previous one.  I focused on his soft lips kissing every square inch of my thigh before switching to the other. He used his tongue during some kisses, letting the cool air of the room chill my skin. His kisses slowly moved inwards over my leg.  A feather-light kiss placed near my core jump-started my senses and electrifying my desire.  Blanc's warm breath fanned over my sex, sending chills up my spine. His hands tugged at my legs lightly, prompting me to spread them open. I roughly gasped into the sheets as another kiss met my center. Tenderly, he began pressing kisses onto my folds.  His tongue darted out at random, provoking my core to heat up. A light kiss onto my clit sent a small jolt through me.  My eagerness soon became apparent, as his kisses continued. Blanc, however, didn't mind this. He began using his tongue to lap up my arousal around my entrance. I moaned into the bed and relaxed my body against him. He prodded me with his tongue pushing into me and circling my hole. Blanc poured all of his love into every kiss he ever gave me. Tonight, how he focused on my womanhood, stirred my emotions.  He began moving his tongue over every part, lightly kissing and licking my entire core. He swiped over my clit countless times only to move away again.  My body was hyper-aware of his movements, leaving me moaning over and over.  Finally, Blanc focused his tongue over the hood of my clit. The light sensation was intoxicating. He kept his movements long and slow. I knew I was impossibly wet at this point thanks to his incredible skill.  I wiggled my hips, hoping he would slip down just enough to pleasure my clit.  Blanc quietly chuckled, and without a word, his tongue enveloped my sensitive nub.  Abruptly, my back slightly arched as I pushed my face into the bed, muffling a cry. My clit throbbed due to finally being focused on.  I felt my hips moved with his tongue, but he didn’t seem to mind. Blanc used the tip to circle my swollen clit agonizingly slow.  My hips synced up with his mouth, stealing some extra pleasure.  Soon, the slowly simmering desired inside of me began to boil. I held in my moans for the most part, but lost my apprehensiveness and grew louder.  Blanc's lips encased around my clit, adding suction while his tongue swirled around.  My breathing was labored the longer pleasured me. The bubbling increased exponentially threatening to take over. I held on tight to the sheets until my knuckles turned white. Blanc’s strokes became unbearable, and before I knew it, the desire began spilling over. My toes curled as I yelled out, feeling the pleasure pulse through me. I pushed my head into the mattress and my core back towards his face.  He let up on the suction but continued lapping at my clit. I felt my pulsing muscles begin to relax.  Blanc continued after my orgasm subsided, swirling around the over sensitive peak. This caused me to start shaking, as my eyes watered at the over stimulation. Blanc added pressure, pushing into my clit. I gasped, yelling out in pleasure.  I almost asked him to stop, when the cusp of release raced towards me again. I was surprised when the sudden orgasm seared through me, rocking me to my core.  My body pulled away from him, but Blanc keeps up the stimulation until my second orgasm subsided.  I was heavily panting when Blanc lifted away from my body. Satisfied tears tickled the corners of my eyes as he turned me to my back. Gently laying me down, Blanc hugged me to him. His fingers carded through my hair while he whispered gratitude into my ear.  .

.

.

Thank you for the request Anon ;) 

This fic actually made me all emotion while writing it lol. I hope you like it!

[loxxxlay]

Whumptober ~ October 6th ~ Betrayed

Summary: After a series of ill decisions, Thor gets himself into a dangerous and humiliating situation. One from which there seems to be no escape. [Part 2/4]

Tags/Warnings: (for this part) super duper fucked-up noncon, Amora is perpetrator, Thor is victim, thor whump, love spell, referenced noncon drug use, very violent GoT-level threat is made, victim-blaming, subtle sexism, bc somehow Thor still manages to be an ass :')

Author’s Note: Wow, so like, this is absolutely disgusting. I'm not even joking lol. :/ I had to pause in the middle of writing and think 'really? am i really going to post this'? And even now I'm just... idk guys... :/ Shakes head at myself. Read at your own risk. That said, I feel like I've done worse to Loki... Something about it being Thor exponentially increases the level of my shame, I guess. :P

(For mobile users, there is a read more cut.)

Parts: [1] 2 [3] [4]

[Read on Ao3]

In a half-sleep, something is dragging Thor to the bottom of an ocean. Chains rattle at his ankles and arms, and they tug on his weight, draining the strength from his muscles. His bones feel liquefied, rendering his limbs useless as they flap formlessly. He aches for breathe. The dream is drowning him slowly, and though helpless, Thor fights with all his might. He struggles to swim to the surface and escape this torment—because something is wrong, something is wrong, and he’s in danger.

Adrenaline throbs in his skull, and the aching reverberates through his sinuses and jaw. Thor unclenches his teeth, and that’s when he wakes from the dream. His body weighs heavy on the mattress beneath him, and every muscle feels shredded to scraps. His eyes are shut, and he can’t open them, he can’t—

And he’s drowning again. Fighting for consciousness. His head pounds.

After an age, his eyes blink open, and the haze of grey light morphs into shapes and shadows. Ears ringing, Thor blinks again. The muscles of his eyelids have to fight for it, but Thor can finally distinguish the chandelier above his head and the window across from him. It’s—it’s his chandelier. His window. His bedroom.

For a moment, Thor thinks he is safe. Then he tries to move his arms.

They’re locked into place. His ankles, too.

Thor blinks frantically now. His breath comes in short, choked gasps, and he struggles against whatever bindings hold him down. They don’t budge, they don’t even make a sound, and when Thor uses all of his might to lift his head to look, he sees that they’re made of magic. Green glowing patterns of a spell snaking around his limbs.

More alarming—he’s naked.

“It’s about time you woke,” Amora says. “I’ve been waiting for more than an hour.”

Thor jerks his head towards the sound and finds her sitting to the side of the bed. His vision swims before he can catch her expression, but he recognizes the shape of her arm—elbow resting on the armrest and hand supporting her chin. Her legs are crossed at the knee, rather than the ankle, and Thor thinks, ridiculously, that it’s not the proper way of a lady.

“Wh—” Thor’s throat convulses on the word, and it takes a moment to cough and clear his throat of the too dry phlegm. “Rel—ease me,” he croaks, “th—is instant.”

“Hmm,” she says. “You sound rather thirsty.”

Thor snarls, but she has already leaned forward and pressed the edge of a prepared glass to his lips. He seals his mouth shut to the water (and whatever drug it may contain) and breathes frantically through his nose—waiting for it to be over.

“It’s just water, dear,” Amora encourages him. With her other hand, she strokes loose hair out of his face. “I already have you where I want you. Why would I poison you twice?”

Thor hesitates for a moment longer—but he’s thirsty, so thirsty, and he’ll need his voice if he has any hope of calling for the guards. So Thor parts his lips and allows the cool liquid to trickle down his throat. He drains all of the water at her urging, and when he is done, he feels worn. Exhausted. His head lulls onto the pillow, and he waits to regain his strength. He’ll need it.

Besides. She hasn’t done anything to him. Yet.

“Nothing to say?” An amused smile coats her tone. “No questions whatsoever?”

Thor clenches his jaw.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I waited,” Amora says, and her hand moves from his hair to stroke along his bare chest. Thor shudders. “I would’ve liked to be done with it while you were sleeping. It’s rather unflattering to watch a man shiver and squirm with fear. I much prefer a consensual arrangement.”

Her hand dips to his abdomen, and Thor’s heart hammers so hard that his chest feels too full—like he’ll explode. He opens his mouth and breathes shallow lungfuls of air.

“Yes,” Amora says with a sigh. “That’s exactly the reaction I dislike.”

Her hand lifts from his body, and Thor calms, even if only slightly.

Amora leans back, out of his line of sight. “But, you see, certain spells require certain requirements to be met. Your brother is a sorcerer, so you must have at least the most basic understanding of such things.” She waits, but doesn’t seem particularly disappointed when Thor doesn’t answer (or move). “The spell I’d like to use requires your awareness. You must be conscious for it. You must know what is happening. A safeguard, perhaps—to allow the subject to defend himself.” She shrugs. “Easy to work around.”

It’s then that Thor starts to comprehend what she means to do to him. The sense of danger evolves into something primal—raw, undiluted fear—and he starts to shake, as if the room’s temperature has dropped to freezing.

It gives him the urging he would need to shout, but—but she still hasn’t done anything yet. She isn’t touching him.

Thor fears to test it.

Keep her talking , he thinks. Keep her talking until dawn if you have to. Until a servant steps in, or—or someone.

He looks at her, and his vision is clearer now. She still wears her green dress embedded with diamond-like jewels and golden trim. Her hair, flawless as ever, has been released from its bounds and flows freely down her shoulders. Golden hooped earrings hide behind her the locks of blonde, artfully matching the amulet tucked between her breasts.

Thor quickly averts his eyes to her face. He won't fantasize of her anymore.

“Yes?” she says, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. “Are you finally going to speak?”

Swallowing, Thor clenches his hands into trembling fists. “Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?”

Amora blinks, as if stunned. Honeyed laughter pours from her lips, girlish and quiet. “Why, isn’t it obvious? I mean for us to court,” she says, eyes lit with desire. “I mean for you to be so besotted with me that you ask for my hand in marriage. I mean for us to marry and for you to endow me with children, so that I might mother your heirs.” She leans forward, and cruelty slants across her eyebrows and hardens her lips. In that moment, she looks utterly repulsive. “And when you are King, I mean to whisper in your ear for every law, every command, every decision—and I mean for you to listen without question.”

Thor thinks of the euphoria he felt in the great hall. He thinks of his father’s approving nod and his mother’s pleased smile. He thinks of the way he felt with Amora’s hand cupped in his as he led her through the steps of a dance—he was so entranced with her, so hypnotized. And his feelings had been real.

A lump clogs up his throat, and his eyes start to sting. “You didn’t need to do it like this,” he says, quiet and still very scared.

“I beg your pardon?”

Thor steels himself. “It didn’t have to be like this,” he repeats. “Tonight—when we were dancing. You had me. I was enamored with you. I was wrapped around your finger before the first song even finished.”

Amora stares at him with faint bitterness, but she does not speak.

“I would have courted you. After a while, I’m sure I would have married you too. Eventually given you children freely. And you know it. I know you do.” Thor swallows the lump in his throat and wills tears away. “We might have been happy together. Why would you—why do it like this?”

Amora’s chin lifts. The corners of her mouth tilt down, and her jaw clenches in a way that ages her. “You think I didn’t try it your way?”

Thor frowns. “What do you mean?”

“It figures you wouldn't remember.”

Without warning, Amora rises to her feet. Thor braces himself, but she merely strides across his room and stands at his window, overlooking the city below. Her hand plays with the silky curtains, and moonlight glints over jeweled bracelets encircling her wrists. Thor wonders if she’ll take them off, before—before—

“It was years ago,” Amora says. “We were much younger, and I fancied you. I was friends with your brother at the time, too—a superficial friendship, of course. I only hoped to get closer to you.”

While she’s not looking, Thor inspects the bonds at his wrists, but it’s hopeless. He knows nothing of magic. Instead, he searches for something, anything within reach that he could use as a weapon.

“You paid me no attention, of course,” she goes on. “I was young and ill-mannered and it turns out your brother was more of a pest to you than a brother. My friendship with him wasn’t doing me any favors. Still—I tried once.” She looks at him over her shoulder, and Thor pauses his search. “I asked if you would take a walk with me through the gardens. It was late spring. I hoped you would find it beautiful—the same as I did whenever passing through.”

Thor blinks at her. He doesn’t remember any such interaction. There are faint images of her, younger and less refined, yes. Images of her running around the palace at Loki’s side, as well. But he can’t think of a time that they had ever spoken—before yesterday, at least.

“You laughed at me,” Amora says and smiles at him.

Once he sees it, Thor is struck with the realization that all of her other smiles have been insincere.

“You were too busy for girls like me, you said. With my talent for magic, you thought I’d make a better match for your brother.” She turns her head back to the window. “I was so enraged. I wanted to make you pay for it. I wanted to make you love me. I searched through countless books and scrolls, searching for the perfect spell to ensnare you.”

Thor finds one of his daggers on the nightstand to his right, but—with the bindings on his wrists, he can’t reach it. Not even with his teeth.

Unaware of his struggle, Amora laughs to herself. “Revenge is a petty, petty thing. It never lasts.”

Thor manages to stretch himself far enough for his nose to brush against the corner of the nightstand. The dagger is mere inches away.

“I’m older now. I don’t take chances anymore. I don’t allow for risk.”

She turns, and Thor is forced to give up his struggling.

“And,” she finishes, “I find that the promise of power is a far better motivator than revenge.”

Amora takes a step forward and stops at the foot of the bed. Thor’s body freezes. Her face is silhouetted—he can’t read her expression—and no matter how he angles his head, he can’t look at her without seeing his disrobed cock at the bottom of his vision. He can't tell if she’s looking at it, too.

“So, My Prince? Do you understand why it has to be this way?”

Thor clenches his teeth together so hard that it reverberates through his skull.

Amora waves the silence away. “Oh well, it doesn’t matter, I suppose. It's going to happen either way.”

Her figure descends upon him. The folds of her dress collapse over his legs, and the mattress dips as her knees plant on either side of his hips. She leans forward, and her glinting green eyes and button-shaped nose come into stark focus, highlighted by the glow of the moon. One of her hands plants on his pillow to hold her weight, while the other caresses his cheek.

“You’ll be good, won’t you? You won’t cry or shake too much? I wasn’t lying before. It truly spoils the mood.”

Thor opens his mouth to shout for help.

As if expecting it, Amora’s hand drives into his jaw, and her other hand snatches the dagger he’d been trying to reach before. Thor shakes with tension—his wrists and ankles are still bound and now he can’t speak, he can’t breathe —and he watches as Amora tips the edge of the blade against his cock.

Instantly Thor falls still.

He tries to reason with himself: if she followed through with it, then she would be executed. Castrating him ( castrating him, Thor thinks again in horror) won’t stop him from calling for help, and it won’t stop the guards from bursting inside. He would suffer irreparably, but she had already said his suffering would bring her little satisfaction. It wouldn't be worth her life.

She’s bluffing , he wants to believe. Just do it. Just call for help.

Patiently he waits for her to lift her hand.

“Oh, you’re adorable. I can see you’re thinking so very hard,” Amora says, mockingly sweet. “But you're not being clever enough. See, dear, you know that everyone saw us spend an entire evening together. You know they saw us holding hands and dancing and slipping out to the balcony. You know that, don’t you?”

Thor squints, trying to understand where she’s going with this.

“And everyone saw us sneak away to your room. In fact,” and Amora waves her hand at their surroundings, “we’re in your room right now. So, dear. What do you think everyone would assume? If the guards burst in and found me sobbing at the base of your bed having lashed out at you in self-defense—what would they see? What would they think?”

Thor’s blood turns to ice. He wants to let loose a roar loud enough to summon everyone in the entire realm. He wants to sob into his hands.

“So? Are you going to be good for me?”

There’s nothing he can do. Nothing he can do but nod.

“I’m glad,” she says, “that we could reach an understanding.”

After releasing his mouth, Amora carefully sets down the knife out of his reach.

The worst is in how his body betrays him.

Amora casts no spell. She does not drug him. She merely unzips her dress and lets it fall to the floor—showing Thor the freckle over her left breast and her nipples, pink as her soft, glistening lips. She merely runs a finger over the sensitive flesh of his inner thighs, around his cock, but never touching. She merely kisses his chest. And his abdomen. And the bones of his hips.

That’s all it takes for heat to shudder down his spine, for blood to race down, down, down from his head, for his cock to rise, hard and needy and burning.

At last her fingertip draws the line of his length and lingers at the head. Thor’s hips jerk. He lusts.

“Don’t do this,” Thor breathes as she removes the rest of her undergarments. “You don’t have to go through with it. You can still—you can still stop.”

Amora gives him an amused look. “And you would not tell a soul, I presume?”

“I swear it.” Thor’s blood sparks as her entire hand palms between his legs. As a second hand curls around his cock and teases him harder. His back arches. He writhes with desire. “Please,” he gasps. “Please, I swear I won’t tell anyone. It will be like nothing happened. Please, please, just—just don’t—”

“I told you, Your Highness. I would like to believe this is consensual.” She gives him a hard look. “Don’t sour the mood.”

That’s all the warning he has before she sinks onto him. It’s utter horror. It's utter bliss. Thor feels her thrust, and his hips meet in tandem. His body betrays him hundreds of times with needy, rupturing moans, and Thor squeezes his eyes shut and lets himself enjoy it. He wants it to stop—but it won’t stop, she’ll won't stop, and he’s fighting a losing battle trying to pretend that he’s not hard and that she’s not beautiful.

Moans of her own fill his ears. She thrusts harder now, letting him penetrate deeper and deeper, and each thrust shoots a cry through her lips. Hair tickles his chest, and Thor opens his eyes to find her lips inches from his. The muscles of her face are clenched into tight lines of ecstasy, and her entire body is caving into each arc of pleasure.

Thor thinks he could strike her now, with the bone of his forehead. But it would do nothing. Nothing but delay the inevitable.

He just wants it over.

Her breasts press into his chest, and her nails dig into his arms. The contact sears through him, and he chokes— good, good, good —and he feels something sparking within him. Something fierce and electric and uncontainable.

Amora’s cries become soft, irregular gasps. She almost sounds like she’s in pain. Her breath beats into his chest at the pace of his heart, hot and damp and on his bare skin, and—

Thor comes.

His spend shoots inside her, and his ears roar with pleasure. Vaguely he notes, Amora’s hands fly towards his face, and light with a green aura that pierces his field of vision. The spell, he thinks, as his mind devours the static of his senses.

“There,” she says, as if to herself, and the bindings from his wrists and ankles disappear.

Thor lies, stunned, for exactly one second.

In the next, he lunges for the dagger she discarded on the mattress. Just as his fingers curl around the hilt, just as he whirls towards her, sick with a longing to plant the dagger in her chest, Thor feels the thought evaporate. He sees her face, a smile, gentle eyes, her arm draped over his shoulder, fingers stretching to caress his hair—and he wonders why he would ever want to hurt someone so beautiful, someone so perfect.

Part of him rebels—no, no, she held you down and raped you, she r aped you—but it fades under the bewilderment that he had ever wanted to say no.

“Now, my dear,” Amora says, and she sounds like an angel, “will you put that down please?”

Immediately Thor lets the dagger slip from his hand. He would slice his own veins if he thought it would please her.

“Thank you, dear. I really appreciate it.”

She leans down to kiss him, and this time, it's his mind, not his body, that betrays him.

[mickeyyasi]

Tomorrow (Does not) always come

This came out one night when I thought about the possible scenarios for this couple in Infinity War, and although I have my opinion of why would hire twins for the 4th installment, I really hope that these two end with a happy ending instead of the one they had in the comics I take two iconic phrases in the comics of these two to write this, the first is from Vol # 1 of Avengers and the second if memory doesn't fail, it is from Vision # 7 both said by Wanda towards Vision.

I hope you enjoy it.

Vision writes a letter for Wanda on their last night together in an attempt to show how he feels about her and in case Thanos and his evil plans to conquer the Galaxy end up working:

To the love of my life, Wanda. 

Maybe at this moment while you read these lines, a series of events occurred that led you to know this through this letter and not in my person, I'm probably unable to do so, or I'm no longer here, but in essence, it's me.   

  You may ask why a letter if in all the time of knowing us I never made one, but in this moment, when you are lying  between my chest, I can feel the soft warm skin of your back increases my senses and I think it's the perfect time to write a letter with words I may never tell you, dreams that may never come to fruition, and that doesn't mean that I didn't want it, believe me, I do it and a lot. I'm a being born of logic, guided by it, but you, you beat my logic and now there is only what is in my synthetic chest, and that can't be quantified because there is simply nothing I can use to do justice for gauge my feelings for you, not even an exponential figure such as pi, or infinite could, and that is that from the moment your mind touched mine the day I was created, my love for you only started to growing.   

    You don't know how much I regret not telling you this before, I guess being new in such an old world made me think that someone as wonderful and beautiful as you wouldn't feel the same for a machine like me, I know that thought is not justification and you detest when I say these things, but I bring the subject afloat because without you. I wouldn't feel that I can be something beyond why I was created for, you make me feel like a complete man, your man.

    Still, thanks for emphasizing that I am different from anyone, I’m happy to be it, because I assure you that I love you more than any human heart would do. If I had known you felt the same, and I had been brave, tonight would not be our first night together, and I think it was just my fault, at some point between the Accords and the Raft, I made so many mistakes thinking that I was protecting you and then thinking that it was not the moment to tell you what should not be silenced; and wasted the few days we had until tonight, I guess we lost a lot of time.  

 But in spite of everything, I don't regret anything because you have given me the most beautiful moments of my life, my first kiss, my first sigh, my first in everything, and I need you do not forget it, you always be my first and only love, forever and ever and neither the Accords, nor Thanos can ever take that away from me. I also don't regret the worst moments we lived because the pain of your loss made me more human, you don't know how much hurt lose you in Leipzig, with the uncertainty of not knowing if I could hold you in my arms again, then I had to bear that you were not by my side and I missed you too much, cursing not being able to sleep every day to find some peace, I felt terribly miserable for not taking you away from everything when I had the opportunity and instead I put you in the middle and I lost you. The months you spent in the Raft were incredibly slow, and I being unable to do anything to get you out made me feel the most useless being of existence; The only thing I thank Steve Rogers for all that conflict is that without his help you wouldn't have been free and we would have missed all this time too.  

  I don't want look back on the past because that is not the purpose of this letter, I mentioned it because the only time we talked about the Accords and the breakdown of the team I told you my perspective of the conflict but I didn't tell you how I felt and you deserve to know that I was not indifferent. Not when I couldn't have you by my side. I don't know what will happen tomorrow when we all meet again as a team, I know that you had that vision of the end and you promised to protect me, but when the time comes I will not allow you to do it. I care too much for you to sacrifice yourself for someone who puts you in danger every second that passes since they attacked Earth. I hope that one day you can forgive my decision and understand why I did it, and that is that I cannot lose you again, even though physically could do it.   

 I don't know what you see when you look at me, but when I see you, I see only my home, in your eyes, I see happiness, through your eyes, I can find myself, I can return to you where I belong where I always have to belong. Your smile, always sincere and sometimes sarcastic. The way you frown when you focus, the way you laugh, the way you sing or dance and play the guitar, I've seen people doing all that and yet none of them compares to you and I like having I had the opportunity to be with someone as unique and irreplaceable as you are, Wanda Maximoff. 

   Last night I had a beautiful dream, one where the pain did not exist and you woke up in my arms, I held you strong, but I no longer had or felt the fear of losing you, there was nothing that could take you away from me as in this moment. I don't know if it was your dream, mine, or both that was created as one, but in that dream you woke up and you looked at me with your beautiful smile, you tenderly kissed my lips, and I wanted to show you that I was yours, but you stopped me and with a little laugh you said, "You will wake them up." At that moment I didn't understand anything, but it wasn't a confused feeling but rather happiness, and as the dream went on I understood why. 

Twins. 

Yes, twins, they were identical but not for their hair, one of them had your brother's hair and the other yours before you dyed, one had my smile and the other my chin, both were more than ready for a Picnic in what appeared to be our garden. You wore a long yellow dress that fluttered in the wind, then one of the twins lay asleep in your lap between your arms, I played with the other and we laughed at his frustration at not putting the correct figures in a box, he had the same face that puts a woman who fought against an army of evil robots but can't open the jar of pickles after an Asgardian closed it. At some point in the dream you looked at me and smiled, we were really happy.    

  Then I woke up and even though you were by my side, I had to accept the reality of the situation, I know we will win, although the recent breakdown of the team does not favor us and we do not have the best odds, we all still have hope and that's enough, although to win sometimes sacrifices are made and not all of us will be there to see it, but I know and I firmly believe that you will be there and I want you to have all this that I dreamed, even if is not with me.   

    Today, this night I choose to think that there are alternate universes, those of which you like so much and I read to you on nights when you have nightmares. I want to believe in them and maybe in some of those universes, we will continue dancing on the roof in the light of the moon as we once did in the complex, that you will eat your breakfasts I made you even if they are horrible and you only do it because you love me, that you will give me the best years of your life and I live only to ensure that you don't have any bad and make you happy as much as you make me with your simple existence. Wanda, thank you for teach me that love is for the soul and not for the body, thank you for being my love and my soul itself, thank you for loving me in the way no one else could.

 In case tomorrow doesn't come, I give you my last today.

 I love you 

Yours, Vision.

It was the hundredth time read it, and she was sure that she could never tire of reading, again and again, the same lines written neatly for her, all the love he could give her had been expressed in that letter.

 “Wanda, are you ready?” Tony asked as he peeked through the door of her temporary room in a complex that was being rebuilt for the remnants of the war.

 “Yes.” She answered wiping the tears from her cheeks.

 “You're fine?” 

“Yes, it's just the emotion of the moment.” 

“He will be fine, Helen, Banner and I did our homework.”

 “What will happen if he´s not the same again?”

 “We will find the way to him return to us. I promise.”

 “Okay.”

 In complete silence, they went to the improvised laboratory, Wanda walked with slow but firm steps with her hands on her chest trying not to let her face reflect her fear, Tony pointed to the entrance and inside she spotted the people who helped create the man of her life the first time,  surrounding him expectantly because Vision had just awakened and was sitting motioning insecurely, looking at his arms, hands, and legs with amazement, He seemed to be the same Vision that came out of the cradle three years ago. Suddenly, he stopped and looked towards the entrance where Wanda was. And he stared at her.

 “Vision?”

                                                   Epilogue

 The sun was beginning to show signs of hiding, the birds were still singing merrily, even if enough attention was paid, an owl could be heard, the smell of flowers, and a nearby forest was unique, toys are overflowing the garden grass, and a small indoor pool, Leonia was a really charming neighborhood, or maybe just the house, the house they could call home. She had Thomas curled up in her lap while caressing his white hair. He had William exhausting his last energies playing with wooden chips. Suddenly he noticed that while caressing their son she was staring at him.

 “Definitely Billy has your scowl, not mine, the one you use when you are slow to solve something” His wife spoke looking at the little baby who was playing settled between his dad.

 “And Tommy definitely has your smile, especially the smile you make when you sleep.” Vision answered. 

“I thought I was snoring, I don't think that counts as a smile.” Wanda answered with a small laugh. 

“After these years I learned that your sleep patterns change with certain situations, not regularly, but you only snore when you are tired and sick with the flu.” 

Wanda smiled.

 “Is that how your dream was?” Wanda asked in the hope that he will remember.

 “You remember? Did you read the letter?”  Vision asked with surprise in his voice.

 “Of course, is a very beautiful letter, in fact, I keep it.” 

“You never told me.” 

“You never asked” 

“I, I don't know what to say, I remembered that letter some time after you told me that we would have our children.” 

“I keep it very well after your reconstruction, you know, to try to recover your memories and show it to you when you were ready.” 

Vision recalled those moments, wake up after the war and without memories, for a time, the only thing he managed to preserve from his old self, was the love towards her.

 “If I had known that I just needed to tell you I was pregnant with your children for you come back to me and be your again, I would have confirmed my suspicions weeks before and not two months after it was obvious that they were coming.” 

“The memories came to my mind one after the other and suddenly they were so fuzzy that they could not stay. But the ones I had with you were different, yours were like following your voice home. And our children were the final piece to return.”

 “I'm glad you came back.” 

Vision smiled with the best smile in years. The one that was only for her and their children. 

“I love you.”

 “I love you too.”

 “And you were right...” Vision affirmed.

 Wanda tilted her head without understanding still looking at him.

 “Tomorrow always comes”.

 The End.

Well, according to the rumors and statements of Paul, our actor for Vision, is a possibility that at the end of one of the two films, Vision and Wanda end up being a family that sits in the suburbs and then have their twins, but what I know and investigate about Marvel movies, usually they hire twins when it comes to ONE child character, for example, Lila Barton's daughter the actress girl has a twin, but Cassie's actress Scott's daughter, she doesn't have it, so everything can happen, right? Another of my theories is that if there really is that of time travel or What if? in the movies, maybe the role for these twins is that of a Tony Stark child who has a Steve Rogers uncle who never ends frozen or that Tony himself travels to that time of his life to find the key or something that may be useful to stop Thanos, anyway, if you have another theory let me know

[sapphicscholar]

Prompt from @aliesanvers for a fluffy and smutty one-shot about Maggie and Alex celebrating Maggie's bday? :)

Happy (slightly belated) birthday, dear! Hope you enjoy!

Chapter Text:

Maggie woke up to the feeling of Alex's tongue hot against her, Alex's fingers wrapped around her hips, Alex's hair tickling at the insides of her thighs.

"Fuck," Maggie rasped, her voice thick with sleep and desire. Her brain struggled to make it to fully awake even as her body surged up at the flick of Alex's tongue up and around her clit, one of her hands falling to the sheets as the other tangled in Alex's hair, holding her in place. "So close," Maggie panted. And god, how true it was.

"I've got you," Alex whispered, bringing her mouth up just enough for Maggie to be able to see her chin and lips glistening with the proof of her own arousal, to see how dark Alex's eyes were even as her lips curled up into a loving smile. And then she was ducking her head back down and taking Maggie's clit between her lips, her tongue flicking across it, and Maggie didn't stand a chance of lasting any longer, coming with a sharp gasp as her thighs tightened around Alex's head.

Trying to get her heart rate under control, Maggie took deep breaths, whimpering slightly when Alex's tongue flicked out once more before she began her slow descent back up Maggie's torso.

"Good morning." Alex planted a soft kiss on Maggie's lips.

"Really, really good morning."

"Just because you have to work today doesn't mean we shouldn't celebrate..." Alex trailed off, letting her gaze dart over to the bedside table where Maggie noticed a plate of french toast waiting for her along with a coffee mug and light blue envelope with her name scrawled across it.

"Danvers, you really didn't have to."

"I know I didn't have to. I wanted to," Alex explained, pulling herself up onto her knees and helping to prop up some of the pillows for Maggie to sit up and enjoy her breakfast in bed.

"One of the many reasons I love you." It was meant to be teasing, but Maggie's voice dripped with sincerity—the kind of earnestness she once mocked in cheesy romcoms and love stories. Because she had barely even talked about her birthday, let alone asked for anything, but Alex had noticed—of course she had—and had gone out of her way to make her morning perfect.

"You're totally getting soft on me, Sawyer," Alex teased, earning herself a faceful of pillow. By the time Alex had gotten resettled, pushing her hair out from her face, Maggie was sitting beside her, plate in her lap and coffee mug in hand looking the picture of innocence. "You're lucky you're cute."

"Don't I know it," Maggie answered, popping a bite of french toast in her mouth and humming happily. "Oh my god, this is so good—it's just like that diner I used to love!"

"That's because it is from that diner you used to love."

"What? That diner's all the way out in Gotham."

Alex simply nodded, busying herself with her own cup of coffee.

"Did you get Kara to fly out there for me?"

"Ah, apparently she paid a certain masked vigilante a visit while she was out there," Alex shrugged, like it was perfectly reasonable to have gotten her fiancée breakfast from hundreds of miles away, just to make sure it was perfect.

"Well, be sure to thank Kara for me, okay?"

"I think the owner of that diner did plenty of that for you, if the number of takeout boxes Kara was holding was any indication." Shaking her head, Alex laughed softly. It was just like Kara to turn a quick errand into a morning-long exercise in making friends with strangers. "Plus, I thought, well, if you're up for it, maybe we could do a little party over at Kara's tonight?"

"For my birthday?"

"No for this random Thursday, Sawyer," Alex deadpanned.

"Shut up. I'm just saying, you don't have to make it into such a big deal. I'm sure everyone is busy." She shrugged. "This morning is already way more than we ever did back home." It wasn't like her parents had completely ignored her, but birthdays simply weren't a big deal when both of her parents worked long days just to make ends meet. Plus, her birthday was so close to the holidays, it just got wrapped into the bigger celebrations, and she learned from a young age not to ask for more, not to demand something bigger or better. Just because the wealthier white kids in her grade—the ones whose parents owned the stores instead of working at them—got big parties where they rented out whole ice skating rinks or took all the girls or boys in the grade to go see a movie and had stacks of presents to open at the end didn't mean that she could. And it was fine. Her mom would bake a cake, and they would sing happy birthday after a dinner that was just like the dinners they had every other day of the week, and Maggie was happy. It was fine.

"But you're not opposed to the idea of something small?"

"Not opposed, no," Maggie confirmed, smiling at Alex's consideration.

"Perfect. Then I'll pick you up from work tonight, okay?"

"Deal."

Maggie's day passed by in a flurry of activity, having been called in to work a few minor non-Science Division cases since half the precinct was out with a nasty bug, and by the time 5pm rolled around, she was excited to be able to turn off her scanner and relax.

"Sawyer!" her captain's voice boomed out across the bullpen.

"Yes, sir?" Maggie quickly wove her way through the clusters of desks over to his office door.

"Thanks for picking up the slack today."

"Oh, uh, yeah...yeah, no problem."

"It might not be a problem, but you did more than your share of helping to keep our team running today." Maggie rubbed at the back of her neck, ducking her head slightly. Accepting compliments had never been her strong suit. "Oh, and Sawyer?"

"Yeah?"

"Happy birthday." She didn't miss the rare smile as he passed over a card signed by many of her coworkers, most of whom had written short notes thanking her for the work she did, talking about how nice it was to have her at NCPD and a few joking that they'd willingly fight Gotham to keep her forever.

Biting back a surge of emotion, Maggie nodded. "Thank you."

"And consider tomorrow a mandatory day off."

"But half the team is already—"

"Just take the day off. Consider it my insisting that you use some of that leave time you keep racking up, if you must."

"If you insist..." Maggie trailed off, not bothering to hide her grin.

"Now get out of here. I'm sure you've got a glass of scotch and a fiancée waiting for you at home."

With a nod, Maggie gathered her coat and bag and headed for the parking lot where Alex was waiting for her. With a quick kiss, Alex pulled open the passenger door for Maggie.

"So chivalrous."

"Only the best for you." With a charming smile, Alex climbed back in, starting the car only to have stereo roar to life with the chorus of a My Chemical Romance song she'd loved back in high school and had been playing on her drive over to the precinct blasting through the speakers.

"I take back the chivalrous comment!" Maggie yelled over the music while Alex fumbled with the knobs to turn it down.

"Hush now, you're just getting the full Alex Danvers chauffeur experience."

"Mm, now does this Alex Danvers have any qualms about making out in the backseat to complete the high school mood?"

"She does not...but she does have a hungry alien sister who might eat the birthday cake if we don't get there on time."

"Fine," Maggie relented with an exaggerated huff of exasperation.

By the time they got to Kara's, Winn, James, and J'onn had already arrived and were scattered around the apartment. "Happy birthday!" Kara squealed, jumping up from the sofa when Maggie and Alex walked in and running over to hug the birthday girl.

"Thanks, Kara." But before Maggie could get any further than the doorway, she found herself being pulled into a hug by Winn, who whispered, "It's the one day of the year when you can't threaten me for hugging you...unless you want me to stop."

As tempted as Maggie was to mess with him, she just laughed. "You're alright Schott—but only today."

"Understood!"

James was next up. "Happy birthday, Maggie. I'm really glad to have you as the newest member of the superfriends." They both cracked up at the name, shaking their heads at just how extra Winn and Kara could be—a level that increased exponentially when they were left to work together.

"Maggie," J'onn greeted her with a nod and a shake of his hand, which she quickly turned into a hug. She wasn't going to say no to a nice space dad moment.

Eventually they made it all the way into the living room and settled in on the couches and chairs around the room. Playing hostess, Kara used a small burst of super-speed to dart back and forth to the kitchen and back with trays of drinks and bowls of popcorn and chips to snack on while they waited for the pizza to arrive.

When Lena arrived, she let the pizza delivery boy up with her and paid, waving off the protests with a flick of her wrist and a "Happy birthday, Maggie!" Over dinner, they chatted about their days and the plans for the coming weekend, and J'onn insisted Alex take off the next day to be with Maggie once he found out that her captain had instructed her to stay home.

"Okay, so, I know that presents traditionally wait until cake," Kara began, looking far too excited to wait that long, "but I figure nothing about our friend group is really all that traditional, so..." The group just snickered and rolled their eyes, none of them having expected Kara to make it all the way to dessert.

"You really didn't need to get me a present," Maggie insisted.

"Aha! We knew you would say that!" Maggie tilted her head to the side, feeling like she was missing some part of the puzzle here. "That's why we didn't technically get you anything but a card."

Maggie accepted the proffered card and sat back, skimming over the sweet notes from each of them, including one from Eliza that Maggie could only assume Kara managed to get by flying all the way to Midvale. "Well thank you, I really appreciate it."

"But that's not all!" Kara announced, sounding like she could have been a game show hostess revealing what was behind curtain number two. "See, we knew you would say no presents per se, but you can't say no to a fun experience... So! We all made proposals about what we thought you might want to do. I still think we should do them all, but Alex suggested that we let you pick."

"I just said she might not want to spend the next several weekends in a row doing big group activities—fun as they may be." Maggie stifled a laugh at the wink Alex threw her way; she had a feeling she knew exactly what kinds of activities Alex thought they should save time for, and those activities were definitely more of a two-person variety.

"Well I thought it could be fun if we all went and played paintball together," Kara began. “You and Alex seem to bond best over shooting and dodging and strategizing, and what better way to do than in way with no risk of death?”

"And I suggested laser tag," Lena threw out there. When everyone looked at her in surprise, she simply shrugged. "Kara made a convincing argument for why the guns and the shooting would be appealing, but I thought a version where nice clothing needn't be destroyed could be preferable."

"I vote for gocarts!" Winn called out, looking absolutely delighted by the suggestion. He might not ever be able to keep up with them on motorcycles (not that he'd ever tried), but he thought a new kind of vehicle might even the playing field. He didn't mention that the track had been set up to look like National City and the carts had been painted with different villains, vigilantes, and heroes, though it had been a real selling point, especially once the owner added a steel gray Guardian cart to his lineup.

"I could call in some connections from CatCo to get us front row 'media' seats to the roller derby championship tournament that's coming to National City in two weeks," James offered, delighted to find that Maggie's eyes lit up at the suggestion.

All eyes turned then to J'onn, who had remained mysteriously quiet. "I offer nothing more than one of the testing facilities at the DEO."

After a moment of silence, Kara shrugged and smiled at him. "Maybe next year, J'onn!"

He chuckled, winking over at Maggie as he elaborated: "Just you, a testing facility, and a whole batch of the newest model of our flash grenades to throw at moving targets."

Maggie's mouth dropped open at that. "Babe!" she squealed. "Did you hear that? I'm gonna get a flash grenade after all!"

"She should know," J'onn added, biting back a smile at the sight of the older Danvers looking beyond happy as she smiled down at her fiancée, "she designed the new model just in time for the occasion."

James managed to slip out his camera just in time to capture the sight of Maggie's ecstatic grin as she nearly bounded into Alex's lap, kissing her soundly.

When the pizza was just about finished, Alex disappeared, shooing Maggie back into the living room as she busied herself in Kara's kitchen. Trying not to peek, Maggie turned back toward James to listen to what he was saying about the latest news from CatCo. When the lights suddenly dimmed, though, her attention was drawn back to the source of noise coming from the kitchen, where Alex stood clutching a large glass pan of tiramisu, a smattering of candles decorating it and bathing Alex's face in a warm, flickering light.

As the group began singing a surprisingly in-tune version of Happy Birthday, Maggie laughed softly, blinking back the happy tears threatened to fall, which she would vehemently deny later.

"Happy birthday, dear Maggie, happy birthday to you!" they finished, Winn drawing out the note for several bars until Alex finally silenced him with a glare, and everyone joined in to clap and cheer loudly, urging Maggie to blow out the candles and make a wish.

Closing her eyes, Maggie found that the kinds of wishes she used to have—wishes for a chance to see the world outside of Blue Springs, to do well on her midterm tests, to be allowed to have Eliza sleep over that weekend—just didn't come to her anymore. Looking around and finding a room of friends and chosen family who had all given up their evenings to be here, supporting her and celebrating her, she found the only wish that came to mind was for more moments just like this one.

[bucklemonster]

The Disappearance of Matthew the Roleplaying Scientist.

Story I wrote: The Disappearance of Matthew the Roleplaying Scientist. Mattheus or Matthew as friends call him is a 31 year old scientist working for Elon Musk's Neural Link. He is also skilled at meditation and lucid dreaming. Matthew also experimented with micro-dosing shrooms, LSD, anti-depressants, etc. He was very careful with it and refuses to experiment with it anymore as reducing and stopping the doses made him feel empty inside.

He never went to any parties in the "real" human world, most of his friends are online, as he likes to role play. Matthew likes to go online, there he can shed his 31 year old nerdy hairy body and become anything he likes.

It is there he meets other people, role playing in a fantasy world, doing whatever they want. The only limits are text and images. So Matthew grew a new interest. He wanted to go further. He wanted to break the limits of text, imagery and fantasy. Perhaps he could find a way, to share experiences, emotions, feelings and more. He wanted to share memories, ideas, thoughts, intuitions. Going further then mere scents, taste, vision, sensation and sound.

Lucky for Matthew he knew how to access and travel trough the 7th realm using meditation. The 7th realm is the dream realm. It is one island floating in the middle of a space. On that Island is a Mountain. On top of that mountain lives Holy Qilin, the Ouroboros, the dragon, the snake, the ruler of the upper part of the 7th realm. Around the Mountain are the Whispering Woods. Around the Island float the Elder Beings in space. They blow dream-bubbles for all the living creatures that can dream. It is there where people project their innerworlds onto the bubbles and have dreams. It is where we go to when dreaming. Every Saturday evening Matthew would gather up his online friends, together they would meditate using voice chat. They would go to the 7th realm. There they could alter their bodies in whatever they wished. They found a field within the Whispering Woods. They named it the Festivity Field. First they had a small party amongst friends. It was small but mind bending as they could sent good feelings to each other and amplify, multiply them. It was pure euphoria. They could not stop talking about it online how amazing it felt, how life changing the experience was. Soon trough Reddit, Facebook and Discord severs their weekly party grew into a brain-bending music festival. They called their festival: The New Sunset.

Artists would perform and create music simply using their minds. They would invent new sounds. Sometimes they would invent new colourful light emitting instruments but they would only be there for visual show, as in the 7th realm music, emotions and ideas could be shared from mind to mind, telepathically. Some artists that never had any musical talent in our realm, the second realm, would be great artists in the 7th realm. Music could be combined with visions, scents, tastes and more.

People would do dances that were anatomically impossible and change in different colours.

People that were musically talented in the "real world", the second realm would often fail to gain an audience in the 7th realm. They could not compete with the individuals that invented new sound-waves, new beats, new feelings and a lot more with their music.

People would shape-shift in whatever they wanted. What started as a group of humans became a festival filled with demons, angels, cat-girls, talking horses, cyborgs floating geometrical signs and much much more.

Matthew was pleased to see what he had started. He would dress-up in a clothing that resembled that of a pope. Matthew would call himself a king. Every-time the Festival would start he would stand on an altar he created out of thin air and shout: "Those whom shall live greet you!" However Holy Qilin, the dragon that floats above the mountain was disturbed by all this noise.

Qilin flew towards the Festivity Field and blew the party members away with his golden flames. As Qilin is a Holy creature, the flames filled the humans with a euphoria they never experienced before. Qilin blew them so hard away the humans flew from the island into the space of the 7th realm. There they floated in the darkness together with the Elder Gods. The humans were shocked to see such a horrible looking creatures but the Elder Gods meant no harm. The humans saw other humans floating with their eyes closed. They saw how the Elder Gods blew bubbles out of there oozing beaks. They saw how the humans with closed eyes floated into the spheres, where they would wake up. The inside of the bubbles would change into another world, a world similar to our realm, the second realm. Yet the world inside the bubbles would be loose, the humans that woke in the bubbles would do all sorts of things. They would be thrown into a lot of absurd situations.

The partying humans understood they had discovered where people go when they dream. Then the partying humans woke up back into our world, the second realm.

Matthew would often go the 7th realm to converse with the Elder Gods. As the Elder Gods find it entertaining to watch people dreaming, they were curious how Matthews parties would look like.

Matthew started a new festival. This time they would gather in the space of the 7th realm, not at the Festivity Field. They called their Festivals: The Nights of the New Dreams.

Now the party-goers would enter the dream bubbles the Elder Gods created for them.

Inside the humans could change the environment in whatever they wanted. No longer would the festival be a field, they would create places like giant blue castles, snowy mountains, green jungles. They would have parties in dungeons, volcanoes and graveyards under the full moon.  

The humans would share emotions telepathically that created an effect similar to drugs. The Elder Gods were glad to see the creativity of the humans. The Elder Gods like to watch them have fun just as we like to see hamsters play in their cages.

During the week, Matthew works with the other scientist, to develop a brain chip.

His colleagues call him mad and crazy. They don't understand his fascination with role-play and they remain sceptical about his stories of the 7th realm. His colleagues want to help people with epilepsy or people whom have paralysed limbs.

Matthew believes that using a brain chip he can connect with the 7th realm and stay connected with it forever. He could communicate with others, and party while he was doing his job in our world. He could perhaps find a way to make our brains purely digital, that way we would not need sleep anymore and we could live, party and work almost forever. We would be like a machine, we could save our consciousness and copy and paste it. That way we could expend our lives until the machine breaks down or the memories get corrupted.

Matthew dreams about building multiple humanoid robots he can move with his own mind. That way he could work on his project with different robot bodies. This would accelerate his work with great speed. He would be able to do multiple things; draw, write, play an instrument, read and learn new things all at the same time. Using technology and his connection with the dream realm he could expand his own mind to new limits and beyond. He would have thoughts and feelings so complicated, that if he would try to explain it us. It would be like explaining how you feel about your favourite movie to an earthworm.

-MISSING MATTHEUS ALAN MOORE-

Mattheus Alan Moore was last seen 8 September 2020, 8:45 PM

at the Neuralink Corporation, San Francisco wearing a grey T-shirt and denim jeans. He has dark brown hear, brown eyes, big nose and was unshaven. He's 5.9 feet tall and wears black glasses. If you have seen him or have more information about his whereabouts.

Please call 161 803 398 87 Matthew was staying late at his office the clock ticking, it was almost nine in the evening.He felt a breakthrough coming yesterday but he had to stop, as it was almost midnight and he slept inside his office. His co-workers found it very peculiar of him, as he did that sometimes. But he was the most productive member of their lab, so they let him be. Now it was almost 9 PM again. He thought he would make his breakthrough this midday, but it failed when he switched it on. He tried it five times already, but it did not activate.He saw on his clock that it was 9 PM 15 now. "If it doesn't work now I will stop and continue tomorrow" he thought. Matthew put on the helmet, dubbed the Proto-Chip. It was a helmet to test the properties of the brain chips in a non invasive way. That way they could test their material and programs. However the visions and motion stimuli would always be vague. To have a better communication with the chip one needs to have an operation to have the chip implanted. With the helmet it was like testing a game using a very dirty hazy computer screen. Matthew flipped the switch. Suddenly Matthew became very nervous as he saw the meters increase exponentially. He thought nothing would happen, but now it seemed something would indeed happen and it would not be good. Quickly Matthew grabbed his helmet as he wanted to remove it but before he could a painful zap send him spasming on the ground. He lay on the ground coiling in pain. He would see blue sparks around the room, coming towards him. "Hallucinating?" he thought between all his pain. The lights of the lab flickered. And then there was light. At 9PM16 there was a one hour power outage at the Mission District of San Francisco. Matthew was gone, nobody knew where. That night however Matthew's colleagues dreamt about him. They never liked him that much, but they all recall the same dream and a feeling of melancholy. Sarah described her dream, which was similar to the dreams of her co-workers, as following: "I was alone in his lab room, but it was blue and dark. Out of the wall came something. Matthew was formed out of the wall. I felt sad yet a feeling of calmness. He smiled at me and said that he was happy and at a better place now. He said he simply woke up in another dream. He said our lives are dreams within dreams within dreams." Mattheus or Matthew as friends called him was a 31 year old scientist working for Elon Musk's Neural Link. Wherever he might be we hope he is truly at a better place.

[jwesulm]

Social distancing for COVID-19: Buying time to reinforce the front

Hi everyone, just an update as a lot of you across several social media have been in touch with me about coronavirus Q&A’s and the possibility of posting up a weekly, detailed FAQ here on your questions; as some of you have heard, I’ve had to put that aside for now since, alongside primary duties, I’m working on applying a bioinformatic system I developed years ago in a bid to help more rapidly identify promising COVID-19 drug candidates. It’s a bit of ad hoc improvisation at best on a pre-developed resource, and even under the most optimistic scenarios there’s not going to be a cure with this, only some extra tools in the therapeutic arsenal to reduce COVID-19 severity and expedite recovery. But for that very reason, I wanted to don my public health hat one more time before going on quasi-social media hiatus, since even the most promising new SARS-CoV-2 treatment prospects won’t amount to much if the (already imminent) torrent of new COVID-19 cases rises even more steeply than it already is to swarm US hospitals: Please, please diligently follow all the social distancing measures being outlined by public health authorities to the letter, especially avoiding mass gatherings and taking pains to wash hands thoroughly after touching surfaces with high contact (such as doorknobs and handles).

I know how stir-crazy things are getting right now especially with all the mounting anxiety (and desire to assuage it with public get-togethers to greet springtime’s arrival), but having lately been in touch with medical colleagues in US epicenters like Seattle, NYC, San Francisco -- even unexpected hotspots like Kansas City, Phoenix, and Orlando -- I can’t emphasize this point enough: the nightmare scenarios we’ve been witnessing recently in parts of Italy, Spain, Britain and the Middle East aren’t worrisome hypotheticals anymore, they’ve already arrived in many regions of the United States. American hospitals are being inundated, we’re critically low on PPE (personal protective equipment) and test kits for complex reasons I don’t want to get into here, and healthcare workers are themselves suffering casualties from infection even with full-body protective gear -- the bottom line is we’re on a war footing in the US, in the most concrete sense imaginable. And we need assistance from all corners to relieve pressure on the front: the medical centers being overwhelmed with a rapid surge in COVID-19 cases. As abstract and intangible as it can often seem at times, social distancing and contagion control, practiced at an individual + small group level X millions of Americans, is absolutely crucial to flatten the curve and buy the time we need to get reinforcements in the form of additional ventilators and supplies, vaccines, and treatments to improve survival and recuperation.

While all of us are liable to slip up from time to time amid the strictures of the lockdowns and shelter-at-home orders, there are still far too many cases of heedless, gratuitous mass assemblages like the Spring Break parties down in Florida or the multitudes thronging in Bondi Beach, Australia. For all practical purposes, those crowds right now are mass Petri dishes for SARS-CoV-2 to multiply like mad and launch new chain reactions to infect millions more people. I realize this sounds grisly but regrettably, that’s how aggressive this microbial foe is. In the lingo of viral epidemiology, this betacoronavirus -- the taxonomic subgroup to which SARS-CoV-2 belongs -- has a significantly higher R0 (R naught) than the flu, a metric of its contagious capacity; is now known to linger in the air for potentially hours; and is transmissible on many fomites (surfaces with frequent human contact) for days. It has a long incubation period (now thought to be around five days) during which it can be disseminated before a victim is symptomatic, and is thus uniquely capable of exponential spread. The US was also relatively slow to ramp up testing compared to South Korea and Italy (with the Koreans testing 20,000 a day, until recently more than America in a month), which means that undetected community spread has been rampant in the USA for weeks. Brisk strolls in the park and exercise al fresco are fine to break the cabin fever, but especially at this point, large gatherings are a formula to mass-disseminate SARS-CoV-2 still further and utterly deluge America’s already limited supply of hospital beds, ICU rooms, ventilators, and hospital staff to provide treatment. Keep in mind that COVID-19 is slamming us on top of a ruthless flu season and an increase in other medical issues to boot, all of which are being pushed aside to triage for the novel coronavirus avalanche. And then you have another accelerant to the vicious cycle with the attrition from nurses and doctors falling ill (which is exactly what happened to me as a doctor in a previous epidemic from pertussis, requiring years to recover).

Not trying to sound dismal here, but to provide a critical reality check on how basic behavioral modification by communities across the USA, on a mass scale, is pivotal to prevent an overwhelming and potential collapse of the US healthcare apparatus if the caseload surges still further; as dark as things are right now, there is real prospect for hope on the horizon if we can make it through the gauntlet we’re facing in the next few months. We’ve been here before, after all, with horrific pandemics like the 1918 Spanish flu (a misnomer as it may have originated right here in Kansas in a WWI army barrack) and numerous smallpox, typhus, cholera, polio, yellow fever, and even plague epidemics ravaging the US before the era of mass immunization or antibiotics for bacterial contagions. Early vaccine research is promising, though it can’t be rushed much beyond the (likely minimum) 18 month lag time due to vaccines’ administration to healthy people, and the technical difficulty of ascertaining the most immunogenic cocktail to prime the immune system. And there are dozens of resourceful research and clinical groups across the world right now seeking to develop new COVID-19 drugs or redirect old ones, to which I’m contributing. Many countries have successfully beaten this thing and protected their populations with aggressive public health measures, particularly Taiwan, Vietnam, South Korea, Singapore, China (with rigorous control after the initial blunders and half-measures in Hubei), Hong Kong, and some countries in Europe and South America. COVID-19 takes a level of mobilization and mustering of public resources beyond any we’ve had to marshal in recent decades, far more than the H1N1 swine flu pandemic in 2009 or Ebola in 2014, but it can be and has been managed successfully. So we don’t have to despair, because new tools are on the way to help us prevail.

Yet this makes it all the more important to buy time for such relief and reinforcements to be produced and arrive at the front. And just to be clear, such public health measures are imperative for all demographics, including younger  ones. Contrary to conventional wisdom at the outset, more recent findings are showing that COVID-19 is quite dangerous to children and young adults, much more so than initially thought. The early complacency about this may simply have resulted from the sheer scale of China’s all-out effort to contain the contagion once Wuhan’s and Hubei’s authorities woke up to it, and the similar success of Taiwan and South Korea with mass testing, tracking, and selectively targeted isolation. This nipped SARS-CoV-2’s spread in the bud in East Asia, not only forestalling further infection but also probably reducing viral load and severity of the infectious course among those who did catch it, particularly children. Unfortunately, the comparative lack of early testing, screening, tracking, and isolation in the US and many other Western countries translates into greater sick contact density and a potentially higher viral load for infections here, which raises the danger level for everyone, including kids and college students at beach parties. (For the technically-minded among you out there, the paper in Amer J Respir Crit Care Med, 2010, by DeVincenzo et al., has a good summary of how initial viral load can greatly exacerbate pediatric infection severity: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3001267/ )   We likewise know that there at least two major strains of this deadly coronavirus -- S-type and L-type -- and now possibly more given its high mutation rate.

Moreover, not only is COVID-19’s lethality at least an order of magnitude higher than the flu, but it also has an alarmingly high rate of serious illness in acute cases, and we know precious little about medium or longer-term sequelae; not to mention that SARS-CoV-2 is hardly confined to the lungs but has been shown to affect the liver and GI tract, kidneys, and even central nervous system in many patients. And it’s not yet clear why, but immunity to COVID-19 seems to wane precipitously in many patients infected by SARS-CoV-2, leaving them vulnerable to deadly re-infections -- a likely reason that initial attempts to achieve “herd immunity” through clustered infection (as opposed to immunization) in some countries, as trial-ballooned in e.g. the UK and Australia, have had catastrophic results and been abandoned. There’s not going to be a magic bullet or straightforward victory here. This is going to be a months-long grind as the infectious curve is flattened and new options emerge to mitigate contagious spread and facilitate recovery in those already afflicted. Meanwhile, communities across the country need to do everything possible to buy time for the aforementioned reinforcements to arrive, and this means rigorous adherence to social distancing and other measures announced by authorities to break the chain of contagion. We will get through this; please keep safe everyone. -- J. Wes Ulm, MD, PhD

[alloverroliver-blog]

Blanc x MC “Drink Me”

NSFW Explicit-  Blanc Lapin Body worship

Ikemen Revolution Fanfic The grandfather clock in the hallway struck Midnight. The faint chime that rang out like the tinkling bell startled me. The floorboards creaked under my bare feet, as I tiptoed past it. Quietly, I made it back to the bedroom and closed the door silently behind me. The plush carpet was soft between my toes as I walked back to my side of the bed. I placed the cup of water that I retrieved from the kitchen, down on the side table. The heavy knock of the glass onto the solid wood was loud enough to rouse him from sleep. I cursed under my breath. I had been so quiet up until now.

“Darling? What are you doing up?” Blanc’s voice was gravelly

“Sorry!” I whispered. “I woke up thirsty, so I went to grab some water.” I slid my legs under the cool sheets. “Ah, I see.” My boyfriend wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close to his chest. I giggled when his hair tickled my cheek. Instead of moving away, shook his head lightly. Laughing, I pushed him away with one hand. “Why are you trying to keep me awake?” I joked, playing with a strand of his long hair. “Sorry.” He brushed his cheek over mine. “Actually I was dreaming about you." His hand moved over my forearm down to my palm. He brought the back of my hand up to his lips and kissed it tenderly. "Oh, Is that so?” I felt a blush dust my cheeks when he placed a second kiss on my wrist. “Mmhm, quite right.” He responded between kisses and slowly trailed up my arm. “Um-” his lips met my shoulder. “What was it about?” I asked bashfully. Blanc lifted his head to my face and planted a soft kiss to my nose. “You were naked, kneeling in front of me.” He paused dramatically. “Oh… One of those dreams” I playfully rolled my eyes. “Not quite,” he smiled l pushing a strand of hair delicately behind my ear. “You were facing away from me, and your body was bathed in light. I swore your glowing aura made you look like an angel." He kissed the corners of my mouth before plating a full kiss on my lips. I sighed into him, relaxing under his tranquilizing kisses. He lifted up and eyed me quizzically. "What is it?” I asked, stifling a yawn. “Would you indulge me for a moment?” His eyes never wavered from mine. I fidgeted under him, only nodding in agreement. He lightly kissed my forehead then captured my lips again. He cupped my jaw with his hand and tilted up, causing me to part my lips. Blanc’s tongue glided past my lips, sliding along my own. He tilted his head moving his lips against mine, stealing my breath away. My heart picked up, drumming in my chest. Blanc was a skillful kisser and always managed to make me dizzy with desire without ever actually touching me. “Sit it, if you would.” His warm body moved away from mine. I pushed up with my hands, sitting on the bed. “I want to undress you.” He caressed my cheek with the back of his hand. “Okay” I looked at him doe-eyed. Blanc was often spontaneous, but rarely so in the middle of the night. His hands tugged at my overnight shirt. I lifted my arms and felt my long hair spill put over my shoulders. He laid the fabric gently next to me. He didn’t gawk at my body, instead, he tugged the plush pajama bottoms off. His eyes met mine in an intense stare. “One more thing.” He calmly smiled, pulling my panties down my thighs. He audibly sighed, showing how flustered he actually was. Outwardly, he looked as put together as usual. He paused when the cloth barrier got to the end of my legs, and I pulled my ankles out. He gently placed all my clothes next to me on the pillow. Another long sigh left him as he raked his eyes over my fully naked for. Finally, he dragged his eyes up to my face and smiled. “My darling, I would like for you to turn around.” He looked slightly worried I wouldn’t agree. His shoulders relaxed when I began to twist my body around. Blanc directed me on how to sit, placing my hands and knees down on the mattress. Blanc kneeled behind me and put both hands on either leg. Gently, he kissed the back of my thigh. I rested my forehead on to the mattress and closed my eyes. He pressed another heated kiss next to the previous one. I focused on his soft lips kissing every square inch of my thigh before switching to the other. He used his tongue during some kisses, letting the cool air of the room chill my skin. His kisses slowly moved inwards over my leg. A feather-light kiss placed near my core jump-started my senses and electrifying my desire. Blanc’s warm breath fanned over my sex, sending chills up my spine. His hands tugged at my legs lightly, prompting me to spread them open. I roughly gasped into the sheets as another kiss met my center. Tenderly, he began pressing kisses onto my folds. His tongue darted out at random, provoking my core to heat up. A light kiss onto my clit sent a small jolt through me. My eagerness soon became apparent, as his kisses continued. Blanc, however, didn’t mind this. He began using his tongue to lap up my arousal around my entrance. I moaned into the bed and relaxed my body against him. He prodded me with his tongue pushing into me and circling my hole. Blanc poured all of his love into every kiss he ever gave me. Tonight, how he focused on my womanhood, stirred my emotions. He began moving his tongue over every part, lightly kissing and licking my entire core. He swiped over my clit countless times only to move away again. My body was hyper-aware of his movements, leaving me moaning over and over. Finally, Blanc focused his tongue over the hood of my clit. The light sensation was intoxicating. He kept his movements long and slow. I knew I was impossibly wet at this point thanks to his incredible skill. I wiggled my hips, hoping he would slip down just enough to pleasure my clit. Blanc quietly chuckled, and without a word, his tongue enveloped my sensitive nub. Abruptly, my back slightly arched as I pushed my face into the bed, muffling a cry. My clit throbbed due to finally being focused on. I felt my hips moved with his tongue, but he didn’t seem to mind. Blanc used the tip to circle my swollen clit agonizingly slow. My hips synced up with his mouth, stealing some extra pleasure. Soon, the slowly simmering desired inside of me began to boil. I held in my moans for the most part, but lost my apprehensiveness and grew louder. Blanc’s lips encased around my clit, adding suction while his tongue swirled around. My breathing was labored the longer pleasured me. The bubbling increased exponentially threatening to take over. I held on tight to the sheets until my knuckles turned white. Blanc’s strokes became unbearable, and before I knew it, the desire began spilling over. My toes curled as I yelled out, feeling the pleasure pulse through me. I pushed my head into the mattress and my core back towards his face. He let up on the suction but continued lapping at my clit. I felt my pulsing muscles begin to relax. Blanc continued after my orgasm subsided, swirling around the over sensitive peak. This caused me to start shaking, as my eyes watered at the over stimulation. Blanc added pressure, pushing into my clit. I gasped, yelling out in pleasure. I almost asked him to stop, when the cusp of release raced towards me again. I was surprised when the sudden orgasm seared through me, rocking me to my core. My body pulled away from him, but Blanc keeps up the stimulation until my second orgasm subsided. I was heavily panting when Blanc lifted away from my body. Satisfied tears tickled the corners of my eyes as he turned me to my back. Gently laying me down, Blanc hugged me to him. His fingers carded through my hair while he whispered gratitude into my ear. .

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Thank you for the request Anon ;)

This fic actually made me all emotion while writing it lol. I hope you like it!

38 notes Sep 28th, 2018

[lafacelaboratories]

LAFACE Gives Thanks Thanksgiving is a time of family, the Macy’s Day Parade, the beginning of the busy holiday season, and, of course, gratitude. Whether people put their faith and trust in God, religion, spirituality, the Universe or humanity, everyone comes together this time of year to express their thanks. So, first, let us take the opportunity at LAFACE Labs to say how grateful we are to all of you, our family of customers, clients and friends who love and use LAFACE skincare products. Gratitude as a way of Life But gratitude should not just be a one-time-a-year thing. While the focus this upcoming week is on giving thanks, researchers say there are countless benefits of having a grateful attitude all year round. Here are just a few that we found: For Your Health: Sleeping Better – a recent study found that students in Alberta, Canada slept deeper and more soundly and woke up more refreshed when they jotted down a list of things they were thankful for before falling asleep. Better Mood – a mind focused on gratitude gives you a more positive outlook, boosts your confidence and makes you someone others want to be around. Research shows that even people who are normally more negative, even when they initially feel forced to fake a more positive outlook are less vulnerable to depression and hopelessness. Fewer Aches and Pains – a researcher at the University of California, Davis, says that in his decades of studying gratitude, he’s found that grateful people are far less susceptible to general aches and pains, as well as illness. Less Stress – several studies have proven that focusing your thoughts on being grateful – even for just a few minutes each day can radically reduce stress, leading to a more positive outlook, stronger heart and more resilience to sickness. For Your Relationships: Significant Others – showing appreciation and counting your blessings, especially when done with your partner, can lead to stronger commitments, and more faithfulness. Being more grateful for the positive aspects of your relationship also makes it easier to open up about concerns and issues within the relationship. At Work – A recent Harvard Business School study found that when employees feel valued, they have high job satisfaction, are willing to work longer hours, engage in productive relationships with co-workers and supervisors, are motivated to do their best, and work towards achieving the company’s goals. A simple, specific expression of gratitude – even between equal coworkers – means more to most employees than a raise. New Friends – researchers found using just two simple words in conversation with a newly met acquaintance can influence that person to desire a more ongoing relationship almost instantly. What are the two words?  “Thank you.”  Of course…and it increases exponentially when the words are written down! Imagine how much you could improve existing relationships with a well-placed hand written thank you card! (my favorite ) And that’s just a few examples! The other thing an attitude of gratitude can bring – just by making the effort to make others feel appreciated, even if it’s not reciprocated, improves your outlook and energy. And when it the gratitude is mutually expressed, the results are astronomical for both parties. People may not remember everything however they DO REMEMBER how you made them feel. Gratitude also brings out your inner beauty – enhancing your skincare regimen – and helps you see more beauty all around you. So make an effort to begin being more grateful today, and get the best thank you possible – from yourself! At LAFACE Labs, we’re dedicated to bringing you the best in skin care and anti-aging advancements that use all natural, environmentally and vegan friendly, effective ingredients. We are fully dedicated to our customers, old and new, and we never engage in animal testing. If you’re just finding us, welcome, we look forward to having you as part of our LAFACE family!

[andrewgalbraith]

Goodbye Mom

My mom died last Monday 24 JULY 2017 at 11:14 PM.

Even typing that sentence out belies the surreality of the last two weeks. I still glance at my phone and expect my mom to call. She’s still in my Favorites. Her picture hangs there, a persistent reminder of her absence, when her husband calls my iPhone.

Nina Olson Galbraith Kolicius is gone and she left behind more questions in her passing than she answered while. She seemingly had a heart full of kindness and compassion that was, perhaps greedily in hindsight on my part, left conveniently overlooked of her sons. There is no doubt she loved us, as what can only be be described, in her own way.

Yet this is my attempt at some kind of closure. The scattered, scathing afterthoughts of her second born son.

Nina was born 25 March 1958 in Chicago, Illinois. Her father and mother were both abusive to varying degrees from what my brother, Brandon, and I have been able to decipher about her childhood. Beyond that, we have mostly objective hearsay and heated conjecture that leaves us wondering, bereft of any true understanding, as it was that made mom tick.

We like to think that she had the best intentions at heart, but even of that, I can no longer be sure. I’m left with a hollow, absent feeling in the wake of her passing as the waves of grief no longer overtake me. It feels as though I’ve been confined to a small white room with little but a stool to sit and meander over the course of events. I’m relived she is at peace, but the feeling is ultimately unsatisfying. Rounded with failure.

She told my brother and I - despite our stubborn refusal to speak to each other over the last two years regarding a matter that could’ve been settled with a few moments of clear communication and a willingness to understand and forgive - that she loved us. And yet, I am left with a drained feeling as though she’d take and take and take given the appropriate opportunity. That’s what I feel like, an opportunity. That’s what stings most and I hate that I’m considering it again. Even now.

I am angry that EMS wasn’t called when I asked that it be called. Instead, from what I’m told, it was Nina’s own stubbornness and dreadful distaste of hospitals that barred 911 from being called until it was apparent her breathing had stopped. EMS believed it to be a heart attack - a misdiagnosis that would’ve cost additional precious time - but by then the damage was already done. It was already too late. By the time she was brought from Methodist hospital in the Medical Dark Ages of Indiana to the University of Chicago Neurosurgery ICU, I’m fairly certain the Subarachnoid Hemorrhage had taken her from us.

We clung to hope through that week. My brother flew up from Florida, catching Southwest’s last flight from Orlando to be there the morning of 17 JULY at 1:30am. We hadn’t spoken for almost two and a half years, but when he got out of his Uber from Midway airport, I didn’t care. I hugged him so hard. I hugged him like I’d not seen him in decades. I hugged him like I knew what was up on the 6th floor.

Through the many CT scans and MRIs and the Cerebral Angiogram that told us of the catastrophic damage that had occurred in her brain. That the strokes and aneurysms and bleeding was so much so that she was lucky to be breathing at all. That half the people who ever flirt with similar circumstances die before making it to the hospital. And yet, there  lay the person who gave birth to my brother and I. Clinging to life.

People with decades more formal education than between Brandon and I combined told us they couldn’t understand where her bleeding was coming from over the course of the week. That there were so many unknowns, yet what was known was poor. The poor outweighed the good in such a way that we quietly began making what peace we could with our biological mom. And we cried. We cried so hard during those days and nights that the emotional numbness became unbearably common along with the lack of sleep.

I wouldn’t wish the last two week on my worst enemy.

In the following days, my brother’s wife, Tabitha would arrive with their daughter. Christina and I would finally get to meet our niece, Sydney Quinn. It was a bittersweet reunion that poignantly served to remind us all what was truly important in life.

Yet, when Doctor B. finally showed us the CT scan from 23 JULY and that the angiogram for the following day had been cancelled, the truth became sadly apparent. There was no recovery from the SAH event Nina had endured. There was too much blood in her brain. Too much damage from multiple strokes and four inoperable aneurysms. The CT scan showed us so much dead tissue - motor skills in the upper and lower body, language, higher brain functionality - everything that made Nina the person she was, was gone.

We opted for palliative care the next day.

After speaking to one of the lead doctors in the UIC ICU, we began to say our goodbyes. We said them so many times and each time felt like the last with no decrease in sobering difficulty. Between the crying and sobbing, we struggled to pull in enough air to do either. Up to this point, it had been the longest, worst and most heartbreaking week of our lives. Nina had no Power of Attorney in place, no explicit conversation as to what a Living Will or Last Wishes would look like. We only knew that mom wouldn’t want to live in a persistent vegetative state and we took solace that we could give her peace from that.

Nina was removed from life support at roughly 5:30 PM on 24 JULY 2017. And we all sat with her, never once leaving her hand not held as she slowly struggled to bring air into her lungs. Per palliative care procedure, her morphine drip was slowly increased during this time to make her increasingly comfortable. A gentle nudge to allow her to encourage her to rest once and for all to pass from the world. Yet, we never stopped being there with her once.

When 11:00 PM arrived, the oxygen levels in her heart started to decreases from 96% at a gradual rate that exponentially increased. Her heart rate dropped along with her breathing. She went from taking 61 breaths a minute to 30. Then 20. Then she was taking less than 10 breaths a minutes. The palatable feeling hung in the air that she wouldn’t be with us for much longer and it felt like her lost breathes had found their way into my lungs.

I began breathing so hard I felt like I was going to throw up and let out a muttered sob as I kissed my mom’s left hand one final time before squeezing it so tightly it’d probably have hurt her, if she was conscious to feel it. When her heart finally stopped, our world did too. Not just mine, but my brother Brandon’s. His wife, Tabitha, and my wife, Christina. Bob, Nina’s husband. Matt, a longtime friend. Jenny, who’d grown up with Nina as a second mom. For that moment, the universe came to a grinding, crashing halt that left each of us ground like meat run through the grinder twice.

We all cried. It seemed like time stopped in Room 675E. Our relief of Nina’s suffering was outweighed by our grief. I fell apart. Brandon fell apart. Throughout the ordeal, our wives had repeatedly been shining beacons of hope and sanity in a sea of turmoil and chaos - asking the right questions, calling the right people and being there to support my brother and I throughout this nightmare - and they’d do it yet again making arrangements for our mother following her passing.

I’m not sure how they did it anymore than I’m uncertain how I woke up that Tuesday. Or that Wednesday. Or any day since, but I have. I’m breathing and, albeit sick from the stress that’s caught up, alive. Our pain is insurmountably temporary, but our memories of how strong, beautiful and smart our mom was along with those memories of those who knew her will continue on as long as those who remember her kindness and compassion go on.

Gone, but not forgotten. For better or worse, tragedy usually has a way of bringing people together.

I feel like Nina would’ve appreciated that.

[iyamhangry-blog]

CrêpeMANIA!

 People say that crepes are the pancakes of France. This would imply that they are the country’s breakfast staple, but I don’t know how true that is. All I know is that they’ve caught a lot of wind in the States. Stores and street vendors have popped up in malls and big cities because the demand has increased exponentially. In general, cultural foods have become craze among younger generations; it signifies education and sophistication. Crepes are one of the older trends, no longer really considered foreign or exotic. Millennials of America have moved onto frenzy over dishes from other countries, but finding a place to order crepes is still no hard task.

A few days ago, when there were no classes on Martin Luther King Day, my suitemate, Esther, and one of her friends hosted a breakfast bash called CrepeMania. Esther, being the jokester she is, did it to parody our neighbors’ monthly WaffleMania from the semester before. Nevertheless, it was a fun way to catch up with friends after winter break (Esther even bought a SnapChat filter for it). 

Coming from a Taiwanese background, Esther held great value in being a good host, making sure she flipped a crepe for every guest, and covering the cost of all the ingredients. With a similar cultural background, I felt an obligation to play the host role too. At 10 a.m., I woke up to change into presentable clothing, tidy the living room and kitchen, and start letting people up into the building. I’m sure Esther had no expectation for me to do it, but it was a learned habit from back home in my parents’ house. Whenever my mom invited friends over, I would stop my TV show or homework assignment and come down to greet and chat with them for a bit. It presented a sense of family and togetherness over individuality, which is highly valued in Asian culture.

As the crowd in our suite got bigger, it gave Esther more pressure to get crepes onto plates at a faster rate. At the same time, she had to greet every person who walked through the doors and keep conversation with the people around her in the kitchen. It was supposed to be a make-your-own event, but it ended up feeling like a wait-to-be-served by Esther event. My other suitemate, Naomi, got roped into helping out somehow too. She came out of her room to quickly make her own and head out to study, but each time, her plate got handed out to another guest, as the rule states: “guests first,” I guess... Either way, she still let person after person take her food until everyone was eating contently before finally making her own. Esther’s co-host, on the other hand, didn’t share much responsibility in the preparation or greeting. To be fair, it wasn’t her suite, but I wouldn’t have pegged her as a host if it wasn’t on the Facebook event. Her “host” title had more to do with the fact that she had a say in the invite list. Some of Esther’s friends didn’t overlap with hers, so there was a lot of clique-ing or shallow small talk. Neither is necessarily a bad thing, just inevitable for two people with different friend groups. There was at least the “What did you do over winter break?” topic of conversation that did well to break the ice.

In afterthought, I see the event as a fun social gathering, albeit, too much of a hassle for me, but food is a always a great way for people to connect. It definitely persuades people to attend, especially if it’s free, informal, and nearby. But watching from the side and seeing the grocery list, the food preparation the night before, the slaving over the stove, and the constant smile and chit-chatting, I don’t think I would be one to host one myself. I think it would stress me out a little too much. Feeding 20-30 people can get expensive, and talking to all of them can get tiring for an introvert like myself. I wholeheartedly appreciate the people that truly enjoy it, though, a round of applause to them!

On a side note, I’d like to see if holding breakfast bashes become part of our suite’s routine, especially considering how busy things get as the semester progresses. I think it could be a lot of fun as a weekend wind down... so long as I’m not the one hosting.