#and yet time after time after time history fucking repeats and nobody learns shit

[weregonnabecoolbeans]

Me: *Reading QoAaD*

The Cohort: *does cohorty things*

Downworlders and others who are aware of mundane history: Hey! This is not good! Like at all! This will just get worse! I know this because this has literally happened before and your stubborn refusal to admit that mundane history matters is gonna lead to some really tragic shit!!!

Shadowhunters (who are basically an endangered species rn because of two wars they fought only 5 years ago that happened because they fell for the exact same propaganda from a man just like Dearborn and the Cohort) :*falls for Circle Cohort propaganda*

Shadowhunters: Uhhhh you’re not trustworthy or something…shadowhunters are the best! We could never be wrong!! Let’s continue to scapegoat entire groups of people because we obviously are the only people worth anything at all!!!

Magnus Bane: *the most exasperated and exhausted sigh to ever be sighed*

Me: Wow this book is a great example of why learning from history is important in order to stop it from repeating itself.

Me: *thinks about everything that is CURRENTLY HAPPENING IN THE ACTUAL REAL WORLD RIGHT NOW*

Me: *through tears and gritted teeth* Good thing this book is fictional 🥲

[raxistaicho]

Fantasy Invader blaming Edelgard for literally everything

Ordinarily I try to work from old to new when it comes to Fantasy Invader because he likes to build on and constantly repeat older claims he’s made, so it’s convenient to be able to just pull back up my old posts to demonstrate he’s wrong. This new claim of his, however, was so juicy I couldn’t resist hitting it immediately. Let’s go!

First, for context:

He’s referring to a post by renisfan where they claimed that Edelgard’s line,

In the original Japanese allegedly meant something to the effect of, “I don’t care about that.”

I’ve used both DeepL and Google Translate and neither came up with anything close to that, (DeepL was closer and said, “that’s none of my business”), but I’ve learned a long time ago not to take an Edelgard detractor at their word without fact-checking them, and in this instance I can’t. So, moving on.

...Yes, you’re reading that right, folks. Fantasy Invader is comparing Edelgard concluding a partly-unwilling alliance of convenience with the perpetrators of the Tragedy of Duscur - whom she intends to punish for their misdeeds - with her actually orchestrating the Tragedy of Duscur.

I’m at a loss for words, most Edelgard detractors these days have realized that directly accusing Edelgard of responsibility for the Tragedy of Duscur is a lost cause and not something you’re meant to agree with Dimitri about (given he’s fully in Boar Mode when he accuses her of it), so they usually stick to just insisting she’s culpable by her association with the Agarthans, but Fantasy Invader is nothing if not behind the times on everything he says.

She doesn’t dehumanize her victims, you clown, she remains acutely aware of what she’s causing throughout the game:

She is.

Wow, what a notion, it takes someone from a position of power to overthrow those in power! Especially when they have an army at their command and super-genetics that allow them to command super human abilities and magic weapons.

We saw what happened in chapter 3 when what was mostly a civilian militia tried to rebel against the Knights of Seiros: they got destroyed, completely and mercilessly.

Also this reads like, “yet you participate in society, curious!”

(Snort) Fantasy Invader has no right to call anyone delusional.

Also, if Fantasy Invader was right and Edelgard didn’t really care about her victims, then Dimitri should get furious at her supposedly being dismissive of them. Or he should at least get angry. But he doesn’t, because the devs don’t want us to think she’s blinded herself to what she’s done.

Heh, should we start mentioning all the times Jeralt says Rhea’s pretty sus, tho?

And, again, she really did have nothing to do with Duscur. How could she? She was a powerless 14 year old at the time, fresh off from being mutilated by Thales. She lived across the continent from Duscur and had no authority in the Empire.

Also, isn’t it fascinating how Fantasy Invader focuses solely on the regicide part of the Tragedy but not the part where a genocide was done? It’s the same with all Edelgard’s detractors: they treat the genocide that followed as... basically a natural and unavoidable result of Lambert being killed. Like how a storm causes a mudslide: there’s nobody at fault for the mudslide, it just happened.

But no, the genocide didn’t just happen, it happened because the Faerghans got into a revenge frenzy, ignored the prince, the sole survivor of the Tragedy, when he said the people of Duscur weren’t to blame, and went to go kill the people of Duscur because Faerghans are just like that and will fuck your shit up if you ever inconvenience them at any point in history. They’re like those revenge monkeys from, So I’m a Spider, So What? where if you ever hurt one of their species they will come after you to kill you, regardless of how many lives they lose in the process.

This point gets ignored because addressing it means addressing the horrendous aspects of Faerghus’s knightly culture, but because Azure Moon is all about preserving Faerghus as a nation-state and not about criticizing Faerghus’s many failures (because why are you fighting for Faerghus if we’re acknowledging Faerghus is kinda fucked up?), it can’t do that, so they can’t do that.

Nope. Given how vague the line is, and how furious she was when she saw Remire, it’s very much premature to conclude she was fully aware of all the travesties the Agarthans would commit.

Yeeeeah, Edelgard detractors tend to be furious about Treehouse... portraying Rhea as a woman struggling with trauma that’s caused her to have a hair-trigger temper which she masks with an air of serenity.

How dare they portray Rhea... in character. And not as a sweet mommy who did nothing wrong. You know if you guys want Lumera you can go play Engage. Err, well, not really since Lumera’s barely in Engage, but eh.

Also they didn’t dress up “genocidal fascism” because there was none of that to dress up. Not even in the Japanese version.

[pollyna]

Hey @pollyna it’s me again. I was just curious if you have any more hcs for that wing au for icemav. (I’ve been rereading a lot of the stuff you write and post on your blog, it’s amazing and plz never stop)

Hey! Hi, sorry if I'm a little late answering but it's been a crazy as weekend election day and 24h of work and this fucking country has to make all fucking impossibile and nobody never learns nothing becausd history doesn't teach shit and i have't sleep enough yet but I picked your question before the all mess and I had a little time to think about it! They're pretty random and very not linear bc my brain is still a little scrambled 🥲

During his 14th and 15th birthday Tom spent the whole year with his granma because his dad was away and it's one of his happiest memory of his teen hood. It meant going around the house with his wings free and sleeping on soft blankets that smelled like home and not the Navy generic detergent. He used to help his granma baking bread every Friday and even if he wasn't allow to participate to the dinner, it's not a dinner dad it-// I don't give a fuck Thomas, because Friday meant his dad was back to take him "home" for the weekend. It meant wings around his chest and yes sir and no sir once a day;

During the last stretch of winter spent with his granma she made him a pillow with all the feathers he lost during the grooming. Tom, then Ice, takes it with him everywhere and it's the only true possession he never, ever, leave behind not even during deployment;

When Carole starts to call Bradley Nick, during her last few months of life, Mav is out for a three days tour and some fucking secret mission and Tom doesn't know what to do. It's then, between an icecream that taste like nothing in particular and an homemade meal that he shows the kid his wings. It's of a little comfort but for a night, at least, they talk and think about something else and Bradley goes to sleep smiling;

Tom almost shows them to Bill, six months in their relationship, but the tought is born and dead in less than a day because that same night, in front of a beer and the entire squadron, Bill introduces them to his fiancé;

After Goose's death Ice takes Ron up in the sky for hours, until his shoulder aren't sore and they both stopped crying;

Mav likes to sleep cocooned between Ice's chest and his wings and he kisses the center of his back every day before work;

Mav names some of the feathers and every time they groom his wings it's a green tragedy of wHY GUENDALINE HAD TO DIE, NO MARINE NOT YOU TO! SAVE YOURSELF ALFRED YOU STILL HAVE TIME!!!!!! And fuck if it makes Ice cry for how much he laughs, every single time. Ever after thirty six years of repeating their little ritual;

Tom's feathers are white but Mav insistes the sun makes them golden and the moon silver. Honestly Mav could say his wings are green and he would still have a dumb smiles on his face or at least that what Slider says (and boy if he's right);

Mav calls him angel-boy sometimes, Tom finds it more ironic than sweet and one night he explains that Bill used to call him is little freaky angels because he never fucked him without his shirt on. Mav swears he's going to punch that sonofbitch the next time he sees him (and he does. In a bar, during short leave, Tom isn't even around but he does it the same);

Ice stop flying jets when he accept his third promotion at admiral but never stops flying with his wings, after he learned how. Age makes him graceful in a way he wouldn't have imagine;

They say, their superiors and their fellow aviators, that Maverick is the dangerous one and Iceman should loose him before he kills Tom's carrier. What they don't know is that with his feet on the ground and phone at reach Thomas Kazansky is the scariest motherfucker ever existed. And it goes even worst when his wings are out and that doesn't happen much;

Cancer doesn't touch him but for months he can't fly and they don't know why. It's scares them to death and doesn't come. Tom lives, Pete flies and screams in the night or behind is cockpit and Bradley runs;

But he comes back, two months later and so many apologies the doesn't stop talking for days. He's eighteen and the Navy accepted him at Annapolis and he's scared shit because he can't loose Ice just like he did with his mom. They take Bradley back to the therapist and they stay because they all need to talk about their individual stuff;

They get married in the spring of '91 and Mav takes them, for their honeymoon, on a small island in the middle of the Indian Ocean and Ice flys with his wings and Mav on a plane and it's the best honeymoon ever. Ice comes back with the tan of a lifetime and they are both grateful they have another week of vacation before going back to work because they can't take their hands of each other;

Slider and Iceman's jet gets shoot down over the north of Russia during '95 and it's a miracle his captures don't discover his wings. Most of it is because Ron puts himself between them and him. Nothing happens to them but after three months of having his wings strap around his chest and the paramedics want to touch them and he screams until Maverick isn't in front of him with the only doctor he trust and knows, it's a slow recovery;

'02 is the year they think they're done and it's the point of not return for them. Mav is at the hospital again because he doesn't care for his safety enough to get home alive and Ice is working a triple shift because they're short on instructors at top gun and Bradley is picking fights with every single classmate who can fight him back. Mav comes back to an empty home and a letter from Ice that says he's at Slider and he's going to be back in a couple of days. Then it's a week than two and they're in a screaming match everytime they see eachother until they don't talk at all because Mav is back in deployment and Ice doesn't know what to do. (They solve it all because when Mav comes back Tom is grooming his wings sitting on the floor of their bedroom. Mav sits down in front of him when Hi Tom, before caressing his wings. Hey Pete he smiles, small and sad breaking his and Mav's heart. It's an uncomfortable night for most part because talking is difficult but when mornings comes Tom is kissing Pete good morning and Pete's arms are around his waist);

They marry again in 2011, the moment the DADT is repealed. It's less fancy than the first one and it's only the two of them and a random clerk as their testimony. They spend a week in Arizona and Ice takes him up in the sky and they see the Gran Canyon like that. Mav takes the most spectacular photos of the world.

Hope you like them ☺️

[snifflesthemouse]

A Letter To Harry

Dear Harry,

My name is Nunya Business. I just want to take the time out of my life to clue you in on something I had to learn the hardest of ways. If my life lessons can save you the pain and suffering I went through, while indirectly saving the rest of us the pain and suffering from hearing about your pain and suffering, so be it. Let me begin.

You see, Harry, my mom died when I was 25. She was 47. She was bedridden the last ten years of her life. So that means she was permanently confined to a hospital bed for ten solid years, beginning when I was 15. That also means I watched her die slowly for ten years. By the time I was 16, I was trained in wound care management. I was also working 40+ hours a week at a fast-food place and attending school whenever I could. Even though I missed a lot of school, I still carried straight As. I always had great grades in school; I was getting scholarship recruitment letters by the time I was 15. I was brilliant. Still yet, I dropped out of high school by the second day of twelfth grade.

Unlike the traumatic lifestyle of servants and wealth, I was brought up extremely poor. The state paid for our school clothes through clothing vouchers. My dad worked a full-time job from the time he was sixteen until he retired AFTER my mom died. But my mom never held a job, drove a car, got a GED or photo ID, and missed out on a lot of living. So, he was the only source of income until I was old enough to help with the medical bills. He was 18 years older than she was. He only kept working after he reached retirement age because she needed insurance, but I digress. Back to the poor me part of my letter.

Here I was. Sixteen, early into my budding painkiller addiction, working full time, essentially homeschooling myself, taking care of my mother, AND still hoping I could make it out of there. SPOILERS: I DIDN’T MAKE IT OUT OF THERE. You know why? I played the same hand you play now. The poor me, poor me, pour me cards. I started taking my mom’s pain pills for my migraines. One didn’t really go full blown migraine on me one day, and I got high. By the middle of my tenth-grade year, I was having four Percocet tens and a chocolate milk for breakfast. For lunch I had a nap after fighting in and out of nodding off high for the first four periods. Eventually, that drug addiction got insane out of hand. I went from prescription pain killers to shooting heroin within 5 years. I went from never having a detention to having a felony credit card fraud charge and ten years over my head. I didn’t have old money to buy my excuses. I went to prison.

Unlike you, Harry, I wasn’t able to go to immaculate rehabs or have my family bail me out of trouble. I wasn’t able to do hard drugs and become a binger alcoholic behind the scenes, then just “quit” without issue. Something tells me neither were you. I’ve met a ton of addicts and alcoholics. Both say the same. After a month of the same nonsense, the addiction was rooted. So please explain to me how you managed to escape the severities associated with heavy drug use and drinking without withdrawing or getting hooked. Seriously, because you’d be the first person impervious to addiction. Most all of us have to fight the fight of our lives to get and stay clean. I know, I’ve managed almost 6 years now. What about you?

No, like us regular folk, I had to go about sobriety the long, hard route. But of course, it cost waaayy more than you’d ever understand.

Your partying days in Nazi uniforms didn’t cost a thing compared to how much they can cost regular people. By 17, I was already shacked up with a psychopath ten years my senior who literally ended up killing my childhood best friend’s fiancé. Not even exaggerating. My ex killed my ex-best friend’s fiancé in the living room of the house I grew up in, in front of my mom and dad. A month before my mom died, actually. My ex-boyfriend did some major fuck shit to me, and I have a history of dating abusers, but I won’t get into that. Just know 50 Shades isn’t sexy to me and hearing old country music instantly makes my face hurt from getting full beer cans chucked at me… Oh and ya know what, Harry? Turns out if I kept dating psychopaths who hit me… the real problem wasn’t who I was dating. It was ME. But again I digress. Sorry Harry.

I lost my friend who was murdered by my ex at my parents’ home a month before my mother died and two months before I was sent to prison. I struggled with addiction from the time I was 16 until my last relapse 3 July 2015. I dropped out of high school because of my drug addiction, then dropped out of college after getting my GED and a scholarship. 

My mother first introduced me to pain pills. She didn’t realize what she was doing and all, but she just thought she was helping her daughter get through a migraine. I got hooked. I robbed everyone I ever loved and didn’t give two shits about the people I hurt. To this day, I still struggle with caring about people. But again, I digress.

My point is this, Harry. I’ve personally been through fifty times more shit than you have. I watched my mother die slowly over ten years. I watched her gasp for air and cry in the night for God to just take her out of this world so she’d not be in pain anymore. I have lost most everyone I hold near and dear to me simply because I failed to show any self respect, accountability, or acceptance. I didn’t have parents cleaning up my messes with money. I didn’t have castles and privileges to boot when the newspapers ran the stories where I was sentenced to prison. No. I had to face the music and learn the world could fucking care less about how I feel.

Now is time you learn this lesson, too. The world is not fair. What you feel is not important. All that matters is what you do with how you feel. Nobody, and I mean absofuckinglutely NOBODY gives two shits about how you feel; the only reason people watch is because they are nosey. The only reason Oprah makes shows with you is to exploit your story for financial gain, like some type of trauma porn. Your wife isn’t looking out for you if she’s letting you incriminate yourself like that on TV and all, either. I know what you are going through, as I have dated one of those. It didn’t end well for me, and it will not end well for you.

Final note, Harry. Your family in the UK have loved and protected you for your entire life. Everyone accommodated you in your naked billiards in Los Angeles and Calgary. They did more than you could understand. Before it’s too late, and they finally get tired of your repeated bullshit, and trust me Harry, they will… make up with them. If that means ditching the wife, ditch her. Because she’s going to ditch you soon enough.

Trauma isn’t a renewable resource, my love. People are tired of your greatest hits on repeat. Better start the plans to turn that wife into the second act soon or the checks will start bouncing faster than those moon bumps. Oh and another thing, man the fuck up! Everyone has problems. You are not special. You’re not even a spare anymore. You’ve been replaced on all that. So why the hell do you still hold onto your childhood the way you do? Or those titles like you do? Oh you must be a masochist. You must like it.

Sincerely,

Nunya Business

[edasnest]

Might you have any Raeda headcanons you'd be willing to share?

Oh shit I didn’t see that you sent this to me until now oh man.

But you better believe I’ve got some Raeda headcanons >:D

[Spoilers for Eda’s Requiem and Knock Knock Knockin on Hooty’s Door! Also a little bit of a character study regarding those eps lol]

Raine is constantly in awe of Eda. Eda’s desire to learn every kind of magic and buck tradition and societal norms sometimes leaves them breathless. When they were young, Raine always admired Eda for the clever pranks she’d pull using different kinds of magic despite being in the potions track. They also admired Eda’s boldness when it came to standing up for herself and her sister.

Eda found Raine to be interesting considering they were in the bard track despite their stage fright, but once Eda watched them perform and saw how they’d lose themself in the music was, no pun intended, magical. They had a fierce grip on Eda’s heart and she didn’t know why; she was fascinated by Raine and made it her goal to be best friends with this oddly shy bard (which she achieved pretty quickly).

After Eda’s curse caused her to unintentionally disable her dad, she was terrified of what it would mean if she was caught off guard like that again. So she started putting up walls. No stressful situations, no hard conversations, no sudden bright lights or loud sounds that she wasn’t the cause of. If she could be in control of her surroundings, she could control the Owl Beast. The elixir she’d discovered that could keep the curse’s side effects at bay helped maintain her sanity and her chill demeanor, but Raine was able to tell she was always slightly on edge. Raine knew about the curse; after Eda had transformed on the Grudgby field the first time everyone had been talking about it, but they didn’t know the extent of it. Everyone just said she’d turned into a monster and then fled; but what kind of monster?? But every time Raine tried to get more information about it, Eda would brush it off and change the subject. It broke their heart watching Eda brush off something that was clearly bothering her, and eventually it all came to a head. She was lying more and more often to Raine and they just couldn’t take it anymore. What happened to their best friend??? Why would she lie to them????? It was maddening and all the frustration and aching in their heart became too much. They needed to focus on something other than Eda. They weren’t nearly as bold as Eda, even after all these years, so they joined the Bard Coven in order to start teaching and building a career for themself. They’d happily welcome Eda back if she’d just tell them what was going on. But it never happened. Burying themself into their work and then, eventually, into the BAtTs helped keep the heartache at bay, but only sometimes.

Eda and Raine caught glimpses of each other as the years passed. They’d spot one another in the market or Raine would see a flash of unmistakable ginger hair dashing around a corner; sometimes they’d hear Eda yelling at some Coven guards and quietly hope she’d make her escape. Eda would occasionally see posters advertising a performance starring Raine; she’d either buy a ticket or sneak in just to listen to them play again. She could never stay for very long though because listening to them play made her heart hurt so much she’d be at risk of turning into the Owl Beast. Raine grabbed one of Eda’s wanted posters and keeps it hidden under some other paperwork in their desk, pulling it out sometimes and going over every detail of the artist’s rendition of her. One day, a new wanted poster came out - this one with a weird skull dog now part of the image and the bounty having increased significantly. Raine would always smirk whenever they saw the new version, although they were alarmed the first time they saw her drawn with all-grey hair. When had that happened? They weren’t that old yet, right??

The day Eda saved the BAtTs and figured out Raine’s secret was maybe the best day Raine had had in years. Their best friend was talking to them again, helping them with their plot. Raine didn’t bother pushing Eda about the last 20 years; their last conversation proved enough that Eda didn’t like it when people pried. But Eda had become not just older, but so much more kind and open. To a degree that sort of shocked Raine. When they asked Eda if she had nothing to lose and Eda took their hand, it was like they’d gone back in time. As if they were both 20 again and daydreaming about a world they’d create for themselves where covens weren’t there to shackle witches down and stage fright didn’t exist; where Eda’s curse never happened and they could stay there on that hill forever.

Eda of course was warring with her own emotions during all of this; she was under the impression that everyone in her life was leaving her again. And not because she was pushing them away this time, but of their own volition. She got her big sister back only for her to go back home to their parents after just a few weeks. She overheard King talk about leaving to find his dad and her apprentice - the first person to ever break down all of Eda’s defenses and show her how to love again - was constantly working on ways to go back to her own home. Eda would be left with Hooty and Owlbert and absolutely nobody else and that hurt so much more than she cared to admit. So when Raine showed up in the town square with their BAtT mask on, using their magic to turn some coven guards into bumbling fools, Eda was a little shell-shocked. The first person to leave her of their own volition was right there in front of her and needed help. So she helped them. And when she became invested in their plots to free wild witches, she felt like she was a teenager again, plotting out pranks with Raine in her secret shortcuts room at Hexside, blushing at every interaction they had because even after all this time, Raine was still Raine. Her Rainstorm. It was like she was starting over, like the last 20 years had faded away, except they hadn’t. Because Luz and King were competing in a race that she needed to be there for. Her past and her present were all different types of painful but finding Raine like this again gave her so much hope! Until she realized she wouldn’t see the end of that race, not if it meant stopping Belos. And she was ready for that, ready for the pain to just stop already, but Raine wouldn’t let her.

Losing Raine again was so much worse the second time. But what they said stayed with her and Eda needed to get back to King and Luz. So when she got back and discovered they’d lost, of course her first thought was to help them. Anything to take her mind off of what she’d just lost. And when King announced that he wasn’t leaving at all, he was legally changing his name? She was “stuck” with him forever? That was too much and she just couldn’t hold it in anymore. Someone wasn’t leaving her. In fact he was legally binding himself to her. No one was leaving, at least not any time soon. Eda definitely still cried more that night after King and Luz had gone to bed.

In the future, Eda and Raine agree to start from scratch: Eda explains the curse to them in detail, all the things she’s learned about it over the years and specifically with Luz and King and Hooty’s help. She explains that Lilith was the one that gave it to her to begin with and why (Raine is appalled like???? Raine specifically worked with Lilith in that last year before they had been made head of the Bard Coven?? And Lilith showed maybe irritation at best at the mention of Eda, so like?? What the fuck???). Eda also explains how she’s come to accept the curse as something that’s part of her and the history the Owl Beast has that she got a glimpse of which is super intriguing to Raine. Also Harpy Eda was a thing which was maybe the most surprising part of it all.

Raine in the meantime tells Eda about their time working their way up the ranks of the Bard Coven, how they met each of the BAtTs and recruited them, the façade they had to maintain to stay on track to become the head of the Bard Coven (something that greatly impressed Eda given Raine’s history with being an awkward actor).

Eda introduces Raine to Luz and King to which both of them start shooting rapidfire questions at them and overwhelm them pretty quickly. Eda has to shoo the two away before Raine just bursts out laughing, saying something about how they’re definitely Eda’s kids (all of them blush while Raine is laughing). Luz is just as fascinated with Raine’s Bard magic as Eda was when they first met and the similarities between the two are striking. Raine tells Eda as much later on and Eda begins gushing about what a great apprentice Luz is and everything she’s done during her time on the Boiling Isles.

They fall easily back into dating once they reconnect properly and everything’s calmed down a little - Raine will still be humming a piece they’re working on and suddenly grab Eda and begin dancing to the tune, Eda laughing the whole time and making their heart soar. Eda will still play with Raine’s earring when they’re cuddled up together just chatting. Raine will start asking Eda again for her opinion on musical pieces they’re working on and Eda will make suggestions along with some jokes or snide commentary. They both still love watching the clouds overhead on their hill, sometimes playing music, sometimes just holding hands.

Raine loves watching Eda interact with Luz and King. They love watching how easily Eda loves them and how much she’s changed since they first broke up. Once they’re alone together, in a moment total admiration for how far they’ve come, Raine tells Eda they love her. Eda immediately kisses them and starts crying, repeating Raine’s words back to them and mumbling about how she’ll never let Raine leave ever again.

A canon Non-binary love interest to a main character that uses They/Them pronouns??? In my kids cartoon???? It’s more likely than you think.

Anyways I fucking love Raine and I love how much Eda and Raine love each other and I can’t wait to see what ends up happening with Them™️

[lostonehero]

Tw sexual themes mentions of child abuse mentions of murder

"Remember Maxie instincts are a powerful thing, even on land you cannot escape them."

"You'll never be human you idiot."

"Humans are food not something you should desire to be."

"You're the weakest here."

"You deserve every punishment."

"You were the mistake of mating season"

"Follow orders like your older siblings."

"You need to be punished."

Maxie gasps as he jolts upright in his bed

The red head fumbled for his morning coffee that nightmare, well more like memories he hasn't had in such a long time. He sighs mixing in a red liquid to his coffee and drinks. Human blood wasn't hard to get and it helped keep his instincts from going nuts because he was hungry. He sighs shaking his head of memories he didn't want to remember.

"Hey Maxie I thought you were going to sleep in, it's our day off, and Steven keeps telling you to rest more so then your former admins." Archie chuckles placing his hand on Maxie's shoulder.

Macie sighs, Archie did worry about him, they were still new to the whole dating thing so they were taking it slow. "Bad dreams Archie didn't want to return to it."

Archie frowns a look of concern in his eyes. "Was it about that day." He trails off referring to the day they both summoned two titans to destroy the world.

"Actually no, just old memories of family." Maxie frowns sipping his coffee.

Archie slightly taken aback. "You had bad parents?"

Maxie froze forgetting that he was never really open with his past to Archie even now that they were together. He sighs letting his guard down. "My siblings were kind my parents however were not you've seen my scars Archie they were from the many punishments I received from them."

"That's horrible Maxie."

"Its been a long time since I've seen them so don't fret that much."

"Is that why you're iffy around my folks."

"Yeah..." Maxie sighs one secret down the next he wasn't ready to face let alone tell Archie.

"Shit sorry"

"Not your fault Archie, besides I like your family."

"Right good so uh did you put your iron stuff in the whole coffee pot?"

Maxie chuckles. "No Archie just my cup I know better then to repeat that."

"Good because your supplements medication or whatever you put in your drink is horrible."

"To you."

"To everyone Maxie."

Maxie chuckles feeling better talking to Archie.

......

"I swear Archie something is up with Maxie." Shelly frowns sharing lunch with Archie on there break.

"I would normally disagree, but he has been awfully clingy lately and a but er forceful in other ways." Archie sighs a light dusting of red on his cheeks.

"Is he hurting you? Archie I swear I'll kill him."

Archie slightly stunned. "No no no not at all, actually it's the opposite besides the bedroom. He has been giving me gifts and little trinkets for the past week, and he has been singing whenever we are alone just to me. Weirdest part is that I keep catching Maxie lingering by the beach."

"Shit Archie that lava nerd hates the ocean. Do you think he might be getting sick because his behavior is weirder then normal."

"I don't know Shelly, he'll everytime I try to ask he gets weirdly embarrassed and runs off."

"That rock head is being weirder then normal uh has the bite mark he gave you gone away yet?"

Archie frowns and shakes his head. "It turned black and the doctors said it wasn't infected."

"That can't be good."

"I don't know Maxie keeps getting embarrassed or mad at himself whenever I bring it up. I think he might be harming himself over it but I'm fine with it, and I keep trying to tell him that."

"I can ask Courtney to help get Maxie to the doctor."

"I want to try to help first."

"I get it but if Maxie is being self destructive again he needs more help then you can give."

"I know amd I never want him to go down that path again."

"Just be careful and keep that nerd safe I hate to say it but he is good for you."

Archie nods throwing out his trash. "Yeah I'll tell you if something changes."

......

"Leader Maxie." Courtney's deadpan robotic tone nearly made Maxie jump out of his skin.

"What is it." Maxie snapped then sighs rubbing his temples he needed to reel in his temper, I was smack in the middle of mating season and he already marked Archie, and they were going at it like buneray but it wasn't what he needed. He knew he needed to claim Archie in the water to complete the bind as mates and his instincts were drinving him up the wall as he kept denying the action.

"My apologies for bothering you but we are growing concerned with your recent behavior."

Maxie freezes rubbing his temples. "Have I been that bad?"

"We are concerned for your mental health."

"I'm fine Courtney I promise." He pauses and scowls. "Don't argue with me I just have some personal issues to sort through."

She frowns and watches Maxie leave. Something was wrong and she needed to figure out what.

.....

Archie was playing with his sharpedo on the beach when Maxie approached him. "Good job Bruce you are such a good boy."

Maxie glares and unconsciously growls getting Archie's attetion.

"Maxie what are you doing all the way out here I thought your admins made sure you got some bed rest. We are just worried about you I know you don't like being locked-" Archie's words are cut off as Maxie forces him into a deep kiss.

Archie pushes him away. "Maxie what has gotten into you? Shit I'm calling the doc-" again Archie is cut off when he hears Maxie begin to sing but it was different it was as if his body was reacting to the song and his body was yelling get into the water and let him finish the bond. Archie blacked out after that.

~~

Maxie woke up and he felt like he was floating then he realized he was in the water. A weight was on top of him as he drifted in the ocean. Then it clicked it was Archie sleeping on top of him as he floated on the waves. "Fuck " he cursed waking up Archie.

Archie woke up wet sunburned and his ass was so sore, also where were his clothes and why was he drifting in the middle of the ocean. Panic started to bubble up in his chest as he was gripped from behind unable to struggle out of the grasp.

"Archie relax I can explain."

"Maxie? Fuck this has to be a dream."

"Archie relax please I'll get us back to shore."

Archie breaths eventually evened out as Maxie began to explain as they made the long trip back and turns out Bruce was with them the entire time and Archie decided riding on him was better then Maxie.

"Maxie I'm sorry."

"Stop it's my fault I forced you to mate, and I didn't even stop and ask if it was OK I just sang and I used you."

"Maxie stop I would of agreed regardless I love you."

Maxie sinks deeper to hide his face before resurfacing and splashing Archie.

Archie laughs feeling the tension leave. "Wait is that why you were acting weird?"

"It was mating season amd I was courting you."

"Is that what the gifts were, and the bite mark was a marking?"

"Y-yeah."

"And the constant sex?"

"Yeah sorry."

"I mean I'm not I found out I was a bottom and a size queen I feel no shame in learning new things about myself."

Maxie huffs frustrated. "Why aren't you mad at me, I lied to you about what I am, I used you, I bonded and mated you without explaining or asking for permission."

Archie sighs. "I was more worried you were hurting yourself again, and it turned out like this so I'm more relived then anything, slightly annoyed because I'm dating a damn ironic bastard who is a sea creature I used to have fantasies about."

"You're disgusting." Maxie tries to cover up his blush as they continue making Archie laugh.

"You know you love me, and now you're stuck with me."

"I know that doesn't mean I can't get annoyed with you."

They devolved into some nice banter as they reach the shore until Archie breaks it asking a simple question.

"So this is a one time thing right? You bonded and mated me so you're good right?"

Maxie watches Archie go back on land picking up his discarded clothes. "Not exactly."

"What?"

"Next year I might knock you up." He says quickly enough Archie almost doesn't catch it.

"What? Maxie last time I checked I am a man and that's impossible."

"Last time I checked I'm a siren and sirens during mating season biology for humans doesn't matter.... I mean well " he frowns trying to find the right words. "You'll develop the parts if it takes and they will vanish once you have the kids."

Archie stays quiet and Maxie frowns flinching and biting his tongue.

"I can be a dad, we don't have to adopt?"

Maxie slightly taken aback. "Well I mean you could but I won't force you not like this."

"No Maxie I always wanted a family of my own and he'll with our history nobody in there right mind would let two criminals adopt or foster a child. But I can still be a dad " Archie rushes back into the waves and grabs Maxie's hands. "We can be dads."

Maxie can feel himself pur and go red at the same time. "Archie relax I want to get my instincts in check, and I don't need you making a fuss over this."

"You purr this day keeps getting better doesn't it."

Maxie huffs but doesn't push Archie away. "I need to explain my instincts to you and my behaviors." He sighs "could you maybe get me a fresh pair of clothes my tail kind of destroyed my pants and my back fin ripped my shirt in two."

Archie laughs as he runs off to get the clothes leaving Maxie red faced in the water.

......

Maxie hands Archie a very detailed list of several pages. "Here is a detailed list of my instincts and behaviors you may witness and experience, I've also made copies for our former admins since I trust them with my secret... and they also seemed concerned for my wellbeing the past few weeks."

Archie hums reading over the list then pauses. "So the jealously thing was unintentional?"

Maxie looks away. "Well you are my mate now and sirens can be very protective of there mates, and I don't want to share you."

"Why aren't you annoyed when I hang out with Matt or Shelly?"

"There your family, I mean not by blood but I" he grumbles. "I can tell that you guys are family."

Archie blushes. "That's actually really sweet." He continues to read then stops again. "Wait how are you going to tell the others?"

"We have a pool in this facility I'll show by example. Physical proof is hard to disprove."

"Alright but are you ok with this?"

"Its not like I have a choice Tabitha found my blood packets last month and I had to make an excuse for that, and they are already concerned with my recent behavior. " he frowns. "And its not like I haven't saved them from drowning before."

"You did?"

"I mean yeah Courtney can't swim, and Tabitha gets a panic attack when in the water so swimming isn't a option for him. It wasn't there fault I just happened to be close enough to save them."

"Thats really sweet. You really are a big softie."

"I have eaten many men Archie I am terrifying."

Archie gives Maxie a soft kiss making the shorter man blush.

[alleiradayne]

Submitted for the approval of the Midnight Society, I call this story…

THE MIDNIGHT RIDE

Long is our list of ghost stories laid to rest. But when the dark rider returns thirty years after his exorcism at the hands of the Winchesters, Sam, Dean, and I are faced with the possibility that we’ve been wrong about one thing.

Some urban legends never die.

Part IV - The Midnight Ride

Summary: The end of an era. Warnings/Tags: Some fluff, general elements of horror and fear, graveyards, brushes with death again... Characters/Pairings: First Person Female!Reader/Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester Word Count: 5,104

"You alright?"

Lost in thought, I had hardly heard Sam. But the warmth of his presence roused me from my stupor. I shook my head and rubbed the burn from my eyes as I spoke. "Yeah, I… I'm just exhausted. And this research isn't exactly entertaining."

Sam took a seat beside me at the small motel table and pulled his chair so close I might as well have sat in his lap. The warmth of one massive hand enveloped mine, and he set the other on my bouncing knee. That quake subsided beneath his touch, something no other person in my life had managed. But then a sudden awareness sent a shiver down my spine, and I scanned the motel room, searching. Sam, perceptive as ever, answered my unasked question. "Dean's in the shower. He'll be a while. We've got some time. To talk. Only if you—"

I didn't want to talk. At all. What I wanted betrayed every common sense I had. At that moment, I’d do whatever I could, use whatever magic at Sam’s disposal, make a deal with Rowena, anything to cleanse last night's stain of indelible memories from my mind. And yet, I knew those options were anything but. Between Sam’s apparent affection for me and Dean’s overprotective brotherly nature, neither would allow me to harm myself willingly just to get rid of a few nightmares.

But as I stared into Sam’s prismatic gaze, the desire to replace those memories, to shadow them with newer, happier moments, overpowered me.

No. I didn’t want to talk. So, instead, I kissed him.

Myriad descriptions, all vastly varied from one to the next, could never capture the feeling of Sam's lips on mine. I could regale you with comparison after comparison. But none of them would do him justice. Though the moment lasted but a breath, eons passed in that explosive connection where I knew and felt and lived a thousand lifetimes with him. I wanted to do nothing more in that breath than melt into him forever.

My tablet chirped, and the case loomed at the edge of my subconscious. All those imaginary lifetimes vanished as I parted from him, replaced by a cruel reality. Not that I'd squander a reality that consisted of Sam Winchester's love. Or his crooked grin and half-lidded gaze.

"Good talk."

Despite my sour mood, I laughed. "I'm glad we could come to an understanding."

His fingers slipped between mine as he spoke. "Thing is, I forgot… what I said about us last night. When I asked if you wanted to talk now, I meant about what happened to you."

"Oh." Well, shit.

I have never known a person wiser, more emotionally aware than Sam. And Dean often gave him a run for his money. But after all the years hunting together, Sam and I operated on an uncannily similar wavelength. The guy read me like an open book. And when I balked at recounting my harrowing journey beyond the veil, he understood without another word.

"Only if you want," he repeated with a reassuring squeeze of my thigh. "Otherwise, I wouldn't mind a little more of your…" he paused with a coy smirk as his eyes darted to my lips and back. "... preferred method of communication."

"I…" My tablet chirped once more, obliterating the one desire I'd felt in months. "Sam, I promise, we make it out of this case alive, I won't leave your bedroom for a week."

His smile widened as he said, "Only if we spend the following week in yours."

I kissed him again, a little harder, more insistent. Parted, I agreed. "Done."

My tablet chimed for the third time, and I turned to it at last. Sam pointed at the screen and said, "What's cockblocking me?"

Though I laughed, a furious sting prickled my cheeks at the thought of Sam's… I forced the imagery from my mind and decidedly focused on the tablet instead of his face. "I was emailing the curator at the museum. She just sent me some documents about Sleepy Hollow's history."

"Oh?" Sam mused. "Anything worthwhile?" He reached for his laptop, pulled it across the table, and flipped up the lid.

When I opened the attached documents, my heart sank. They merely verified much of what I'd already learned. "Sleepy Hollow was a part of the Tarrytown settlement, originally called North Tarrytown. Most of this information is just facts and history about the town. While the Ichabod Crane story is all rooted in it, the urban legends and folklore are only related so far as this jackass on a horse with no head."

"Not surprising," Sam stated.

"No,” I whined, “but it is a little disheartening that he has next to nothing to do with the town he haunts.”

Sam nodded, then said, “There might be more, though. Earlier this morning, I read that Washington Irving was born in Manhattan. He traveled for many years, but he eventually returned to New York and lived out the rest of his life in Sleepy Hollow. He's buried in that cemetery."

"I suppose," I replied, "but I was looking for something a little more concrete than the author lived and died here. Like actual people that Irving modeled his characters after. Or other legends. He traveled in Europe for quite some time. There's even a Scandanavian story, The Wild Hunt, that has the same throughline. A headless rider that lobs his head at people."

Sam piqued at that, eyes narrowed and head tilted. "But Ichabod Crane is the original telling of the story here. Right?"

I nodded. "Forgetting that it's a hodgepodge of cultural ghost stories, yes."

He laughed at that. "I haven’t read it since I was a kid.”

“Me neither,” I replied. “I only know bits and pieces.”

Dean burst from the bathroom at that, a towel wrapped around his head and one about his waist. “Ichabod Crane was a new school teacher in Sleepy Hollow. And he was hellbent on marrying a woman, Katrina, who was set to inherit her father's very wealthy farm estate.”

"Oh," I mused with a mocking smirk at Sam. "Sounds like we have an expert in our midst."

Dean waved me off as he dug through his bag at the end of the bed. "Sam knows it, too. Right?"

“Yeah," Sam started, "there was another suitor, though. Arthur Van Brunt. He went by Brom Bones Van Brunt.” He paused as he stood. “It’s kind of funny, really, this story reads like a high school drama. The lanky geeky nerd and the oafish jock fight over a girl. Except they never get into the physical altercation Brom wanted. He goaded Ichabod constantly, pulling pranks on him. But Ichabod never took the bait.”

I looked at my tablet, where a black and white photograph of a man stared back at me, then returned to them both. Dean withdrew a change of clothes from his bag, then headed back to the bathroom. Through the open door, he said, “So the story goes, Ichabod went to a party at the Van Tassel farm where he intended to woo and win over Katrina. Brom, instead, scares the living piss out of him with a bunch of ghost stories, one of which was the Headless Horseman.”

“Yeah, I remember that much,” I said. “And then he tried to propose to Katrina, but she shot him down.”

“Exactly,” Sam chimed. “I love how ambiguous the ending is here. Ichabod leaves the party all upset about Katrina. He gets on his horse, Gunpowder, who is very skittish, and heads home. But the Hessian shows up and chases him. Ichabod had just learned the legend, so he heads for the bridge near the Old Dutch Burying Ground. He knows the spirit can’t cross the bridge. Ichabod would have made a decent hunter.”

Dean’s laughter echoed from the bathroom, and he emerged dressed and hair coiffed. “I forgot how innocent this story is. He gets to the bridge and crosses it, but the Hessian hurls his freakin’ head at him before disappearing. The head domes Ichabod and knocks him off his horse. Nobody ever finds his body. Only his hat, Gunpowder’s wrecked saddle, and a randomly smashed pumpkin were found near the bridge.”

A thought bubbled up in the back of my mind and raced to my lips. “So that’s where the jack-o-lantern head comes from. What if… holy shit, what if it was just a prank gone wrong? What if Brom was playing another trick on him and accidentally killed Ichabod?”

Hesitation stalled them both as Sam and Dean regarded one another. Then Dean turned to me and asked, “That does not explain what the hell happened last night. No fucking way that was a prank.”

I hated it, but I knew he was right. “But then what the hell! I’m almost beginning to think it is a tulp—”

“It’s notta tulpa!” Sam shouted. Dean clamped a hand over his mouth, and his shoulders shook with uncontrollable laughter. Sam rounded on him and barked, “Shut up!”

“I can’t help it,” Dean managed through peeling laughter. “Your Arnold impression is improving.”

“C’mon, guys, we need to figure this out,” I groaned.

Dean settled through a deep breath, although his face remained far too red. Sam slumped into his seat again, his stare glazing over, unseeing. When he remained silent, Dean said, “Alright, let’s say they’re spirits. And it’s still this mess of combined ancient myths, ghost stories, and cultural legends. We’re still on the same page there, right?”

Sam and I nodded slowly. “After what happened last night, there’s no way they’re anything else.”

“If they’re spirits that haven’t moved on, we have to burn the bodies,” I stated.

“Or destroy an object that might be keeping them topside,” Dean added.

Scrambled thoughts rattled through my mind as I ran down a list of objects. I soon found myself lost in a warren of possibilities, and as I stared ahead at my tablet, equally dazed as Sam. An answer picked at the edge of my subconscious, like a half-remembered dream. No matter how hard I tried to grasp it, the thought slipped through my hand like water.

“None of it is real.”

From the corner of my eye, I glared at Sam. He remained still, his glassy far-off stare yet unfocused as he spoke. "It's all stories. They're all stories that are too much of a mess for a tulpa. So none of it is real. Whatever these spirits have latched onto, it's nothing from those stories." 

With his words, the image on my tablet clarified as my mind focused. Understanding crept along my skin, raising gooseflesh in its wake. I stood then, spurred to my feet, and spoke. “The unmarked grave never mattered. It’s fake.”

Sam nodded. “There aren’t any bodies to burn because those bodies never existed to begin with.”

“It’s all fairy tales and make-believe bullshit,” Dean declared.

I looked first to Sam, then Dean, then back to my tablet, where an image of Washington Irving filled the screen. I turned the tablet to face them, and all at once, the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. Together, we spoke.

“Death of the author.”

Never in my entire life had I wished to be anywhere else more than at that very moment.

Three stark-white flashlights illuminated a grand headstone, memorialized by the town of Sleepy Hollow, for one Washington Irving. After so many years without care, overgrowth covered much of the base, and the stone desperately needed a washing. Beyond that, none of us made a single move to start the arduous process of digging five feet into the earth. We simply stood there, silent as the dead beneath our boots.

"Either of you uncomfortable with this?" Dean asked, breaking the silence.

"Yeah," Sam and I replied.

Dean started towards the headstone and said, "Good. Glad it's not just me. Something about this feels wrong."

"It's because we've never seen someone's spirit manifest as anything other than itself," Sam stated. "We're literally digging up a guy because his spirit might have transfigured into characters from his own story."

"Can spirits even do that?" I asked as I scanned the treeline of the graveyard. Though dense fog had choked the grounds last night, literal clouds suffocated the entire cemetery where we stood. "That seems like a lot of power for a single spirit."

Dean posted at the head of the grave. "Only one way to find out." He pocketed his flashlight and hefted his shovel. When he saw us still standing at the foot of the plot, he said, "I'm not digging this grave on my own."

Despite the need to end such a vengeful spirit, I had little motivation to help. Slower than necessary, I picked up my shovel and shuffled to the center of the plot. Sam stepped in behind me, shovel at the ready.

Dean raised his shovel to his waist. Before he moved further, a distant, indiscernible sound echoed through the woods. What was once visible of the nearby treeline no longer was. That thick fog filled the darkness, and I saw neither trees nor sky nor stars. I heard the sound again, too far to tell what it was, but not far enough to miss. My flashlight shook violently as I spun about, but I found nothing besides the Impala behind us.

I turned back to Dean just in time to watch as he plunged his shovel's blade into the dirt. Agonizingly slow, it descended each inch slower than the last. That distant sound echoed once more, ever so slightly closer. As though he conducted an orchestra, that sound crescendoed into an unbearable scream as Dean’ shovel descended until metal returned to the earth.

Earsplitting thunder exploded overhead, and instinct forced all three of us to our knees. That booming drum rolled, mutated until it rumbled through the ground. I knew that sound, too familiar with the feel reverberating through my feet. A fresh wave of icy dread coursed through my veins as those thundering hooves pounded the dirt.

Over the headstone, I pointed my flashlight as I stood. Terror incarnate barreled through the graveyard astride his deathly steed. Above his head, a readied missile sprouted flames as he raced towards us. Every instinct screamed to run. Fuck everything about the legend, the haunting, just get the hell out of there.

But I couldn't move. Frozen solid, I merely gripped my flashlight and shivered.

"Run!"

Dean's shove launched me into Sam's arms, kickstarting my senses. I sprinted for the Impala, desperate for her salvation. I reached it a beat behind Sam and Dean and dove into the backseat. The engine roared to life with a sharp snarl as Dean twisted the ignition. He wrenched down on the shifter, slammed on the gas, and I launched into the backrest as the car sped off in reverse.

"What are you doing?!" I screamed.

"What I should have done last night!" he barked.

I opened my mouth to demand a better answer but only managed to scream and gesticulate wildly. The Headless Horseman vaulted Washington Irving's headstone and, in one smooth motion, launched his flaming cannonball directly at the car.

The sickening crunch of iron on steel paled in comparison to Dean's wail of rage. He threw the wheel to the left, and I grasped onto the backrest as the car lurched, spinning about-face. The transmission groaned in protest as Dean threw the shifter into drive and slammed on the gas once more. With all her horses leaping down the road, the Impala raced into the night, and I flattened against the backseat.

"Mother fucking piece of shit ghost!" Dean bellowed. "Fucking hit my car with a god damned cannonball! I’ll kill you! Do you hear me?!"

“Dean, just watch where you’re going!” Sam shouted as he braced against the backrest and the frame of the car.

The speedometer slid past eighty, and I gripped the leather backrest, nails scoring the supple hide. Sweat coated my palms, and my heart railed against my chest. "Dean, what the hell are you doing! You're going to get us killed!"

The fork in the road appeared around the sharp corner, and Dean roared, "Just trust me!" as he took the paved road to the left.

One hundred. The blinding flash of a memory overpowered my senses. Nearly forgotten, the dull vision replayed in my mind, muted, as though it belonged to someone else. A car sped along a country road. A dog. Spinning, careening, crashing. I screamed as my seatbelt failed. Blood pooled in the cornstalks beneath a sky so blue.

"Try to follow me now, you son of a bitch!"

Dean's voice snapped me back to reality. Behind us, the Headless Horseman gained, and his whip gathered with a flick of his wrist. The vicious bones uncoiled, and another memory threatened to take me under once more. It seemed that death had its own wish for me and would not rest until it came true. Another flash of a fresh memory consumed my senses, dragged me down to my own personal hell. But then a light emerged amidst the darkness, warm and enveloping. I opened my eyes to find Sam holding my hand.

"Focus, Y/N. Stay with me, we're gonna get through this, I promise."

"There's the bridge!" Dean shouted as he pointed. The engine whined, straining under his insistent foot. He glared in his rearview mirror as he growled, "Let's race, motherfucker."

The Impala raced over the transition from asphalt to old stone and wood, rattling the car from nose to rear end. Sam’s fingers turned ghastly white in my grip, but he paid that no mind. His focus remained steady, wide eyes staring into mine. Though he tried to reassure me, the roar of the Impala swallowed his words, and they fell on deaf ears. Like a moth to the flame, I turned back to the Headless Horseman one last time.

The coiled whip unfurled laboriously, each bone rolling over the next and slower than the last. That crawl, that agonizingly painful creep blurred the liminal space between truth and myth’s fabrication until nothing but a swathe of gray smeared reality. My mind filled in that blank void, and I knew then that death had arrived to collect his escaped prisoner.

But the end never came. That infinite second ticked by, lost to the endless depths of space and time as the car breached the end of the bridge. I braced myself against Sam as he reached over the backrest for me. Dean stood both feet on the brake, and the car lurched forward as the tires seized, shredding on the asphalt. When the deafening roar of the Impala faded to its soothing idle, I eased my grip on Sam's arms, and he returned to his seat. Dean checked both of us before scrambling from the car, and we followed not a beat behind.

In the center of the bridge, the Headless Horseman and his nightmare steed hung in the air, suspended mid-gallop. A deep purple glow seeped through the grouted stone surrounding the horse, and beneath his hooves, the bricks quaked. Violent flashes of an eerie green mist lanced from the cracks in the centuries-old rock and lashed the rider’s raised arms to drag him from his horse. Wrenched free of the saddle, he crashed to the stone, his metal armor clattering with a sickening crunch. I winced, unsure of what I was witnessing, an unwitting and unwilling voyeur.

But I forced myself to keep looking. I had to. I had to see it through to the end, to know without a shadow of a doubt that we had indeed laid such a vengeful spirit to rest.

The Hessian launched into the air with a vicious twist of the mysterious green lashes. Gale winds swept over the bridge, filling my nose with burning brimstone, and then the horse burst into flames. He screamed his unholy cry, and I startled into Sam's arms. Though I continued to watch, I cowered into him, and he held me close without a word. The vile inferno consumed the horse in seconds, reducing him to a pile of ash.

The rider convulsed as though in pain, writhing and contorting so awkwardly to be free of his bonds. Metal twisted, grinding and scraping against itself in his bid for escape. I realized then that, in his death throes, the Headless Horseman would emit no other sound. He could not beg for forgiveness nor absolution. He could not plead for his continued existence nor one last moment on earth. No last words with a loved one. And for a minuscule second, I pitied him.

Lightning fractured the sky as the purple glow between the bricks focused in a circle encompassing the rider. As the edges brightened, the bricks inside slipped away into an endless darkness. I had seen nothing like it in all my years hunting. And as the green bonds lowered him towards the void, he thrashed, deeply aware of the end that approached.

A scream rent from my mouth as an arm of sinew and bone and rotted flesh burst from the black depths and grasped the rider's leg. Metal collapsed like tissue paper beneath the fierce grip, and bone crumpled to dust. Another arm lunged for his chest and cleaved his breastplate in two, embedding in his ribs. A third nearly ripped his arm from its socket, his forearm crushed, and a fourth pierced his thigh. Those horrifying limbs dragged the Headless Horseman to his doom, jailors imprisoning their captive.

Feet, legs, and torso succumbed to the darkness, and a defeated stillness settled his ruined body. At last, his arms and headless shoulders sank beneath the zenith, and The Headless Horseman was no more. Like so many grains of sand through an hourglass, the ashes of his steed followed him into the void. 

A final flare of purple and green light surged as lightning illuminated the sky once more. Wind settled, and clouds parted to reveal a full, brilliant moon and a night sky full of glittering stars. At last, the void receded, and the bridge stood whole once more. The sounds of night creatures returned, and the clearing surrounding the bridge expanded as though it took a full, deep breath to hold, its first in thirty years.

Maybe, it knew. Just as I felt it in my bones, the trees, the stone, the tall grass, and the creek beneath the bridge all felt it down to their tiniest molecules. It was over. At long last, the Headless Horseman was no more.

For now.

A clattering of bones cut through the peaceful calm, and I flung my arms out ahead of Sam and Dean. Not that I would protect them from much of anything, what with nothing but my bare fists at the ready. Tension crept across my shoulders when I spotted the source of the sound, and the three of us scrambled backwards towards the car.

The bone whip rattled to a stop a few feet from us, perfectly coiled with its handle extended towards my boots. I regarded Sam first, then Dean, only to then turn back for the Impala's trunk with a scoff. A readied can of salt lay on top of the stockpile, and I grabbed it as I grumbled to myself.

"Unless something's keeping it topside.” I slammed the trunk shut. “Gimme a break. Of course, something was keeping it here," I continued to myself as I stomped back to Sam and Dean. I prodded the latter in the shoulder and asked, "How? How the hell did you know?"

Dean shook his head as he held his lighter in one hand and withdrew a motel matchbook from his pocket. "I didn't. I didn't know the bridge would work. And I didn't know the whip had anything to do with it. I just had a—"

"Remember the last time I had a hunch and convinced you to drive the Impala over a hundred?" Sam interjected.

Before Dean could respond, I spoke. "Speaking of which…" I paused as I finished pouring a generous amount of salt on the neat pile of bones and snapped the can shut. "Don't ever drive that fast again."

Dean’s brow shot to his hairline as his jaw dropped. He gestured to the bridge, looked to it, then turned to the pile of bones and gesticulated wildly at them. After he stuttered the beginning of a few statements, he blurted, "What was I supposed to do?!"

"Not one-oh-five, that's for damn sure!" I stated. "We could have died!"

"We would have if I hadn't—"

"Alright, that's enough!" Sam interjected. "I'm sorry I brought it up. Let's just put this son of a bitch away for good this time."

"Yes, sir," Dean agreed. "One salt and burn, coming right up."

The book of matches took the flame of Dean's lighter with a sharp hiss. A flick of his wrist sent the little ball of fire cascading to the ground, and in a single beat of my heart, red consumed the world in a crimson concussion.

The ring in my ears faded, and the blinding light dimmed, darkness settling around us once more. Flat on my back, I stared up at the shimmering night sky, beyond dazed. When I sat up, Sam’s hollow voice called from afar. But the moment his touch soothed my shoulders, a shock of clarity rushed through me, and I saw he knelt over me.

“Talk to me, Y/N,” he repeated. “You okay?”

I thought for a moment, taking inventory once again. No broken bones, no blood. Not even a hint of pain despite the lingering soreness from the previous night. “I… I think so. What happened?”

Dean strode into view, an ornately gilded box cradled in his hands. He set it on the ground at his feet, and then I spotted it. The whip lay intact where it had rolled to a stop earlier. Salt scorched black cowered beneath the pale white bones as though frightened of its failure to purify the whip. I pointed at it and repeated myself. “What the fuck just happened?!”

Sam spoke when Dean hesitated. “It looks like the whip is protected. Somehow. Whether the Headless Horseman did it or it’s part of his curse, I’m not sure. And it’s irrelevant anyway. We’ll have to find some other way to destroy it.”

“But then… What happened last time? With your dad?” I asked as I stood. Sam hopped to my side once more, his gentle strength lifting me to my feet.

Metal rasped on metal, and my attention snapped to Dean. His hand rested atop the box, the metal gears working with fine clicks and clanks. When he removed his hand, the lid lifted half an inch and hissed a violent release of pressure. Of its own accord, the lid then continued to rise, revealing rich black velvet. Darker than night, the fabric lined the entire box, and it absorbed the moonlight, much like the void that had taken the Headless Horseman. When Dean withdrew a similar thick velvet cloth from the box, he spoke. “John did put the Headless Horseman away thirty years ago.” He paused as he grasped the whip with the velvet. Gingerly, he eased it into the box, then spread the cloth over it. The heavy lid shut with a hollow thunk and the metal gears worked once more, sealing shut on its own. “But, he came back.”

“Because of the whip?” I asked.

Dean nodded as hefted the box and turned for the Impala. Sam and I followed, eager to be on our way. Given our cargo, I doubted Dean would want to stay another night in Sleepy Hollow. Resolved, I figured I’d at least steal a pillow for the ride back.

We followed as Sam said, “We’ll take it back to the Bunker and find another way to destroy it.”

“Otherwise…” My question drifted, lingering like an unwanted guest that had overstayed their welcome.

With a grunt, Dean shoved the box into the trunk. “Otherwise, the next unlucky bastard that touches this thing will become the Headless Horseman.”

The terrifying implication settled in the pit of my stomach. An indestructible weapon possessing unwitting people. And yet, I knew that dichotomy well. Old as time, that one. The immovable object, an inanimate manifestation of immortality, meets the unstoppable force, the perpetual stupidity of human curiosity.

“We need to get on the road,” Dean stated as he shut the trunk, then strode for the driver’s door. There, he cried a soft, short sob and spoke to the car. “Oh, Baby, look at you. We’ll get you home and cleaned up.” Then he ripped the cannonball free, wrenched the door open, and slid into the driver’s seat. The awkward crunch of ill-fitting metal joints damn near broke my heart. And not just for Dean, but for the Impala as well, for she had seen us through a most harrowing night yet again.

Sam leaned in beside me then and asked, “Mind if I sit with you?”

“I’d… I’d like that. Very much,” I replied as a sudden chill crept beneath my skin. “I don’t think I could handle the whole ride back by myself.”

He opened the door and gestured ahead. “I make a pretty good pillow.”

As he slid in beside me, I said, “I look forward to finding out.” The warmth of his entire body, so close to mine, pulled me in, a moon to her earth. His long arm draped over my shoulder, and I curled into him. For a brief moment, the case ceased to exist. Only my exhaustion reminded me that I had gone toe to toe with the Headless Horseman and, for the most part, won.

But then a familiar thought occurred to me, and my weary eyes snapped wide open. “It’s true, then.”

“What is?” Dean asked as he turned over the backrest.

My breath caught in my throat, unwilling to put into the universe my worst nightmare. But between Dean’s confident stare and Sam’s soft gaze, I’d never felt safer. Even in my darkest moments, the Winchesters would be there for me. I put my faith and confidence not only in them but in myself as well. No matter what happened next, I believed in us.

“What’s true, Y/N,” Sam asked.

I gave him my best smile and spoke.

“Some urban legends never die.”

Dean shook his head as he turned back to the wheel and twisted the key in the ignition. The Impala rattled as she started, exhausted as each of us. When she settled to idle, Dean looked at me in the rearview mirror and spoke.

“No. They live just long enough to meet us.”

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THE MIDNIGHT RIDE MASTER LIST

ALLEIRADAYNE’S SPN MASTER LIST

[faejilly]

ask the always impossible of me

[T, Malec, Shadowhunters, Royal!AU; Bingo Square: “Fuck The Clave”]

Just for one night, a magical ball where anyone can meet, when anything is possible...

And that's just the beginning.

*

[chapter 1]

alec

No one was happy about the upcoming ball.

Alec wasn’t happy, because how could anyone be happy, being on display like that, judged and weighed and bid on, practically, everyone jostling for their piece of his power?

Isabelle wasn’t happy, because she wasn't allowed to attend. It was only for the heir.

Jace wasn’t happy because Alec and Izzy weren’t happy, which was actually kind of sweet and the only thing that had made Alec smile for the past sennight.

The King wasn’t happy because it was an old tradition, so he couldn’t take credit for anything, and the Queen wasn’t happy because she had no control over it, not the decorations or the timetable or the invitations.

Tradition.

It was a stupid tradition, and honestly, the very fact that it was a tradition that no one could seem to alter, not even a little bit, went against the story that started it completely.

Great-great-couple-of-extra-greats Grandmother Lightwood broke an engagement and ran off with a nobody who was serving at a Harvest Ball, and just because her new wife turned out to be best friends with a Seelie Prince and they finally got a treaty with their prickly neighbors somehow meant every Lightwood heir for the rest of time had to throw that same Ball when they were of age, and make sure the entire damn kingdom, no, the entire damn world could attend, if they wanted.

And the entire damn kingdom was always hoping that history would repeat itself, and the current heir would do something impetuous.

Not that anyone held out much hope of Alec ever doing anything impetuous in the entirety of his life. Alec kind of hoped he’d think of something, because the only benefit to the stupid Ball was that if he did do something there, it would be considered destiny, and he’d actually get away with it for once.

Not that he had an "it" in mind. Or a who to inspire what the nebulous something might turn out to be.

Maybe someone would surprise him.

magnus

Technically, anyone in the world could attend this particular Ball, the first celebration of harvest, of prosperity, after the current heir to Idris came of age. That was the point, after all. One final chance for destiny to turn, for the future to change, to grow into something even better. In theory, anything was possible. New beginnings. Anything or everything... or nothing.

In practice, well-to-do humans from within the kingdom and a few friendly allies were about all that attended, and no one had particular hopes that tonight would be any different than any other Ball.

Technically, there was no reason not to let Magnus attend. The Ball was open to all, human or not. But Seelies had historically been the only ones to take advantage, and even they only risked a couple attendees.

In practice, it was unlikely he'd make it through the doors. He might be the High Warlock, but that warlock part was always more important than anything else in the eyes of the upper class.

But Ragnor was tired of listening to him complain about the Lightwoods and their racism, and had told him to do something about it, and it had seemed like a good idea at the time?

It seemed like a really bad idea now. But he was here. He couldn't back down now.

Well, he could. But he wasn't going to because then Dot would never let him hear the end of it and Cat would never stop laughing at him.

Not that there was anything wrong with Cat laughing at him, it was a pretty standard occurence honestly, but it was the principle of the thing.

Or something like that.

The main gates were open. He felt the shiver of the Wards wash over him as his carriage rattled over the stones, and he straightened up in his seat with surprise as they warmed, a soft caress against his skin as if in greeting.

He really was welcome.

Well. Shit.

Now he was actually going to have to go to the Ball. And stay there. And socialize with whoever the regular guests were.

He had not thought this through properly.

It was going to be a long night.

alec

It was going to be a long night.

Merchants' daughters kept trying to flirt with him, eyelashes blackened to make it easier to flutter them in his direction. (Alec danced, here and there, but carefully not the waltz, and never twice with the same person.) The nobles that had already learned he never flirted back were trying instead to impress him with their children's practicality or wit, stopping him for a quick word by the refreshments, or by one of the balcony doors that were cracked just enough to let shivers of the cold outside air into the overheated ballroom.

At least a few of them had suspicions, or hopes, he wasn't sure which, and had aimed their sons at him this time. He danced with them too, because he could, tonight, without it necessarily meaning anything.

He wished he could let it mean something.

There were a few Seelies in attendance, even a werewolf Alpha and his family, though the Garroways were more interested in greeting Alec's parents than in introducing Alec to their children, and Maryse and Robert had both seemed honestly glad to see them. Alec's mother had even let one small sincere smile free, and her voice had softened in a way Alec hadn't heard in years.

Yet another thing he wished could mean something.

And then, almost late enough to be treading the line between fashionable and rude, a warlock swanned his way through the main doors as if he had every right to be there.

The fact that he did hadn't been enough for a warlock to attend in almost a hundred years.

The whole room paused for just a moment, looking up at him at the top of the stairs. He lifted his chin, just a notch, claiming their stares as his due even as he entirely dismissed their judgement, and descended to the main floor more gracefully than Alec thought that any royal had ever managed.

The fact that he was honestly the most beautiful person Alec had ever seen did not seem to be part of the whispers he started hearing around him, though he couldn't for the life of him figure out why.

He couldn't remember how to breathe.

He could feel the weight of the ring box in his pocket, could hear the echo of Izzy's laugh in his head from when she'd pressed it into his hand earlier, and then refused to take it back. Well if I can't go to make sure you have a little fun, maybe this will remind you to let loose a little.

His heart was beating too hard in his chest as he watched the man make his way across the room, and he still wasn't sure he was breathing. It was as if the entire rest of the Ball, no the Palace, the world, had disappeared in favor of this one, stunning, impossible man.

Who is he?

Luckily Alec had just been talking to Aline, almost secluded next to one of the marble pillars circling the central dance floor, so no one else noticed he'd lost his fucking mind over a pretty face.

And pretty everything else, dear gods, the stranger's trousers were practically painted on, and his sleeves were so tight Alec wondered if he'd made his seamstress cry with the fitting of them.

Or maybe it was all just magic?

He was magic incarnate.

He was perfect.

"Alec," Aline hissed in his ear, and he blinked himself back into reality.

Reality still had the warlock in it, still improbably beautiful as he escorted the Alpha's wife, Jocelyn, into a dance. She was laughing, and he had a fond smile of his own; they clearly already knew each other.

Reality was not going to help him get his act back together, Alec just wanted to stare, wanted to watch the way the man moved, wanted to work his way closer to hear if his voice was as graceful as the rest of him, as warm as the smile he'd offered to Mistress Garroway.

There was kindness there, and humor, and the sharp glint of his eyes as he looked around made it clear he knew exactly what he'd risked, coming here, even tonight when no one could tell him no.

Not just a pretty face.

Alec swallowed, and made himself turn to look at Aline instead. Her expression was an unruly combination of delight and horror and surprise, though she managed to strangle it back into something mostly just polite when he tightened his lips at her, a hint of a side-to-side shake in the shift of his head.

"You could go ask him to dance," she offered, then coughed to stop herself from cackling or swearing, he wasn't sure which. "You could do that, tonight."

But tomorrow...

For once he decided to ignore tomorrow. For once he'd ignore his head and follow the ache in his heart instead.

Towards him.

He didn't even know the man's name.

But he could find out.

Alec nodded.

Aline's eyes widened, the surprise back full-force, and Alec turned and left before either of them talked him out of it.

magnus

He'd been more grateful than he'd expected at the sight of Lucian and Jocelyn: familiar faces, and friendly ones. The night wouldn't be a total loss, a fact he bestowed upon Jocelyn as if it was high praise for her rather than a back-handed compliment comparing her to the conniving souls filling the room, and he relaxed even more when she laughed.

"I feel sorry for the Prince, honestly," she confided in him when the dance spun them close together. "All these people are practically salivating over the chance to get close to him."

"You don't think he enjoys the attention?" Magnus asked, curious despite himself. The Lightwoods weren't a family known for their lack of ambition or arrogance. "Isn't that the whole point, after all?"

"I don't think so, not for him." Jocelyn's voice turned a little wistful. "Maybe it was just nice to see Her Majesty smile, and I'm remembering who we all used to be, rather than who we are now."

Magnus snorted softly. He didn't think he'd ever heard of the Queen smiling in public. "Did you slip something into her drink?"

Jocelyn slapped his shoulder, and he offered her an apologetic bow over her hand as their song came to an end.

He stood to the sight of the Prince himself approaching them, and he prepared himself to smile politely no matter what. Maybe Jocelyn was right, and said Prince just wanted a dance with a married woman who wouldn't then have raised expectations?

But the Prince greeted Jocelyn, who curtsied politely with a murmured Your Highness, and then he turned just enough to make it clear he expected an introduction to Magnus.

Which was really quite unfair of him, being polite, considering how unreasonably attractive he was, all tall and dark and handsome, with eyes soft enough to make him pretty. He continued to be polite to Jocelyn, to Magnus, even in the way he said it had been nice to meet Lucian, and Magnus believed him, believed every single word.

Jocelyn slipped away to dance with her husband after a few minutes, but the Prince stayed. They conversed through the entirety of the next song, and then another, and another. They talked about the music, and the decorations, and the Prince even slipped in a comment about being glad to see that Mr. Bane had accepted the open invitation... and Magnus still believed him.

It seemed this was going to be a pleasant night despite all of his worst expectations. He thought maybe he could talk with His Highness Alec Lightwood for hours, and never mind the time at all.

He might even wish for a few extra hours tonight, if he knew they could be spent like this.

"May I have this dance?" The Prince asked, one hand held out, an elegant line from elbow to wrist, and Magnus put his own hand into it before he could think of a reason not to.

His heart almost stopped, and some tender part of his soul awoke at the feel of Alec's hand in his.

"I would be honored," Magnus answered, and was disconcerted to realize he meant it.

Alec smiled, startled and delighted and beautiful, as if he'd truly believed Magnus would decline, and all Magnus could think was oh no, because somehow he'd skipped right past potential into something real, something approaching hope, or maybe even joy.

Alec was a serviceable dancer, formal rather than playful or showy, not that Magnus blamed him, considering the fact that everyone was watching them as the familiar triple-beat of the waltz filled the room. Not that Magnus cared, not with the feel of Alec's arms and hands against his, the warmth of his body almost close enough to touch.

"I apologize," Alec whispered after their first almost silent turn about the room, "I perhaps should have warned you before I let you accept."

Magnus couldn't have stopped his smile if his life depended upon it, couldn't resist the warmth in Alec's voice, the worry clear in his eyes. "I knew what I was getting into, attending this Ball."

"But maybe not waltzing with me." The Prince managed to shrug without losing his step. "I haven't waltzed in years."

Magnus felt his eyes widen, felt the glint of gold beneath his glamour. He'd known that, remembered it now, recalled how that was always part of the gossip that wove its way through town after every formal event, the fact that the Prince never waltzed, never gave any hint as to any potential prospects, always polite but never encouraging.

"Is this a political statement, then, dancing with the only warlock to enter the Palace socially in a century?" Magnus didn't think it was, not really, but it was the sort of politics he'd encourage, nonetheless. It was all he'd wanted out of this evening before he met the Prince, a chance to hit the Lightwood's wall of propriety hard enough to cause a crack, something he or his people might be able to use to start to change things for the better in the future.

It wasn't at all what he wanted, now.

That time Alec almost faltered, one step just the slightest bit off, and Magnus swung him around in a turn fancy enough to hide it, so no one else would notice.

"Is that a no?" Magnus whispered, that agony of hope back in his chest, sharp between each heartbeat.

"No," Alec breathed out, "I mean, yes, of course not, I mean... Magnus."

Magnus' hands clenched too tight in their grip, his breath stuttered in his throat, and it was only the heat of Alec's hand in his that kept him from stumbling at the sound of his name like that.

But before he could ask, could say, could do anything, he heard the music shift, and the Prince stepped back to clap for the musicians, his eyes dark and his eyebrows heavy as he stared at Magnus, as if he was trying to communicate something important with just that look.

All Magnus could think was oh, I wish I could kiss you.

He didn't believe that was what the Prince was trying to say, though he was reasonably confident that Alec wouldn't disagree with the sentiment.

He wondered how a night like this could end, if it was Magnus meeting Alec, rather than the High Warlock of Alicante meeting the Prince of the Realm.

He wasn't sure how to ask, especially here, especially now, with the rest of the Ball converging on them, with Alec's parents approaching and the nobles circling, with everyone watching him so very closely, waiting to see what would happen next, on this, the one night when anything was possible.

He let himself fall back on manners instead, let the Prince present him to their Royal Majesties and pretended he didn't remember how long they'd let Morgenstern work unchecked.

He wondered, not for the first time, what had finally pushed them to confront their Prime Minister, what finally made them stop him.

Valentine Morgenstern had been convicted and executed twenty years ago, and Magnus still didn't have any answers.

Magnus had always just assumed they'd realized that Morgenstern was eventually going to turn on them too, that someday he'd push too far and they'd all lose, but now. Now he wondered if it was simpler than that, if they'd looked at their five-year-old, just old enough to start asking questions about his parents, his life, and realized the troubles their son was going to inherit weren't what they wanted to give him.

How could anyone look into Alec's eyes and not want to give him the world?

How am I this far gone so fast?

He didn't know, and he couldn't ask. The heir could challenge fate tonight, but only the heir.

No one else.

So Magnus let the tide of the Ball turn, watched as the Prince was washed away from his side, and got back to work. He talked, he danced, he was as aggressively charming as he could get away with, and still, every time he paused his eyes were drawn towards Alec.

And every time, Alec was looking back at him, eyes dark and gaze steady.

But he didn't make a move.

Of course he didn't.

Magnus didn't know why he'd thought, why he'd even considered...

Until it had to be close to three in the morning, the Ball starting to empty out, quieting but not quite done, not yet, and Magnus felt a tug on his sleeve, and the Prince whisked him into one of the receiving rooms, the door closing softly behind them.

"Your Highness," Magnus started, not even sure what he was trying to say, what he wanted, what he needed... and Alec winced, and he stopped trying, just shook his head, helplessly, as Alec gathered his hands together. He looked at Alec, and Alec looked at him, just looked, his eyelashes dark against the too-pale expanse of his skin, gleaming like moonlight, like every impossible desire Magnus had ever had.

"Alexander," Magnus tried again, and Alec smiled, soft and warm and wistful.

"I could ask you anything tonight, couldn't I?" Alec's voice was even softer than his smile, barely loud enough to carry.

"You could," Magnus answered.

"But you can't."

Magnus' lips parted, and he couldn't tell if the taste in the back of his throat was sweet or sour. But he'd thought the same himself, hadn't he? "No, I can't."

"And if I'd met you yesterday, yesterday I couldn't have... or tomorrow."

Magnus shook his head, ignored the burn in his throat, behind his eyes.

"And if I asked, then tomorrow." Alexander stopped, had to stop to breathe, too deep, too fast, his grip tightening around Magnus' hands. "Tomorrow you'd be the exception that proves the rule, tomorrow the fact that I asked you tonight would be proof that I couldn't, shouldn't, ask those questions the rest of my life."

Magnus didn't understand, he didn't know. He almost? He couldn't... Magnus squeezed back, Alexander's fingers so cold in his, and waited.

"I'm not going to ask, well. I am, I'm." Alec stopped, shook his head, cleared his throat.

Magnus waited.

"I'm not going to ask, not until I can invite you back, until you can bring your friends and allies here to the Palace, here to any event we host, until I can ask you properly, until you're not just an exception."

Oh.

"I'll wait," Magnus breathed out.

Alec's eyes widened, and he shook his head again. "You don't, I can't. I can't ask that of you."

"Yes, you can." Please, Magnus thought, almost begged out loud. Please, ask me.

Alec's gaze flickered back and forth, searching Magnus' face, looking for... something. Magnus didn't know what it was, but apparently Alec found it, because he smiled, one half of his mouth higher than the other, crooked and sincere. He slipped his hands free of Magnus' grip and cradled Magnus' jaw between his palms; he leaned forward and let his lips brush against Magnus' mouth, brief and light and so, so sweet. "Wait for me, Magnus?"

"Yes."

He felt Alec shudder, watched his eyes close, then open again, slow and tender. "Thank you."

Magnus shook his head, tried not to fall into Alec's body as his hands slipped away. "No, thank you. For what you're trying to do."

"I should—" Alec looked away, a flush across his cheeks, tension in his shoulders. "I shouldn't have needed to meet you to know it needed to be done."

"Darling," Magnus whispered. "You knew, or meeting me wouldn't have changed a thing. You would have been perfectly happy with your singular exception."

I would have accepted being an exception. The fact that you want more...

Alec swallowed, hard enough Magnus could see the jerk down his throat. "I have, I mean."

Magnus raised his eyebrows. There was more?

Alec reached into his pocket and pulled out a box, a small square one. Just the size for a ring. "I want you to have this."

Magnus took it, tried to stop his fingers from trembling as he opened it, as he looked down at the Lightwood family crest, shaped in cool white gold and resting on black velvet.

"If," Alec coughed. Magnus looked up to meet his eyes. "If ever you change your mind, if it's not enough, if it takes too long... just send that back to me."

Magnus shook his head, desperate, harder and harder as Alec kept talking. "No, I won't."

Alec reached out, closed the box, wrapped Magnus' fingers around it, wrapped his own hands around Magnus'. "We can't know what's going to happen tomorrow. That's all this is. Just in case."

Magnus swallowed, and nodded. He slipped the box in his jacket pocket, and then looked at Alec, at the line of his shoulders and the glint of the silver circlet in his hair, at the fading pink in his cheeks and the way the light caught in his eyes. "You need one too, then. Just in case."

Alec started to shake his head, but stopped, an inelegant jerk as Magnus frowned at him, as he realized he wasn't going to win this argument.

Magnus, however, had not been prepared for this sort of thing to happen at the Ball, and it took a moment for him to decide what to offer in exchange.

Most of his rings wouldn't do, too fancy, too large or ostentatious, too clearly his, not the sort of thing the Crown Prince would wear at all.

But he thought about that wince, that sigh, and realized he wasn't choosing a ring for His Royal Highness, he was choosing a ring for Alexander. He spread his fingers wide, displaying them between him and Alec, and felt the first start of a smile tugging at the edge of his mouth.

If he was going to be a Lightwood, then Alexander was going to be a Bane.

He pulled off the signet ring with the 'B' in the middle and turned his hand around, placing it in the middle of his palm. "I'll always be able to find you, with this." Magnus shrugged, couldn't quite make himself meet Alec's eyes, tapped a thumb against the 'M' ring that he was still wearing. "They're a set."

"Are they?" Alec whispered. He didn't say just like us, but Magnus could hear the hope in his voice, could feel the echo of it in his own thoughts.

Alexander took the ring. It disappeared somewhere into one of his own pockets. "Thank you."

Magnus offered him a smile, but neither of them said any of the things they were thinking. Alec leaned in to kiss Magnus again, short and sharp, and escaped back into the public eye.

[chapter 2 on ao3]

[thejamesoldier]

A Single Frayed Rope

AO3 Link

Chapter 2 

A/N: Hey guys! Sorry for the long gag between updates! Should have some marvel stuff updated next!

Chapter 3 - Horseshoe Overlook I

Horseshoe Overlook ~ May 1899

The tree Kieran and you are tied to feels like a cheese grater against your back.

Every time you flinch or breathe too heavily the bark chafes against you and its agony. You haven't sat or laid down since the mountain cabins and only a lady who you have learned is called Mary-Beth comes to feed Keiran and you small rips of stale bread or sips of water regularly. She does it quickly and when the least amount of people are watching, but you're grateful for it. It's the first display of genuine kindness you've been shown since...traveling. Time traveling.

Yeah you still haven't come to terms with that.

Most of the camp has come by to take stock of the two of you, some to antagonize and demean while others offer small tokens of food or coffee if you both are looking particularly pitiful that day. Some of the gang have beaten Kieran and to your horror beat you too, some have dropped food just out of your reach, tossed their still lit cigarette buds at your faces, talked to you like you were the worst scum of the earth. You had never been in a situation where nobody...cared, nobody cared what was done to you and everybody relished in your discomfort and pain. These people were cruel, the kind of cruel you read about in history books and news headlines and watched in movies. The kind of cruel you believed you'd never have to experience like your ancestors did.  

"Mercy! Please!" Kieran moans to a passerby, his voice a racket in the quiet foggy morning and effectively wrenching you from your thoughts.

You try to tamper down the brittleness threatening to shatter your chest and allow your senses to distract you from your fear. The abuse has become so regular you eventually reached a point where you began trying to anticipate their cruelty, desperately trying to find a pattern to it. And in doing so you unintentionally became an expert on these people. At first you started discreetly observing how they treat each other, how each person does their chores, how they act when eating together or singing together. Then you learned each of their names and cataloged their habits, committing every little interaction and detail to memory. You have to know the enemy to defeat them, or in your case simply survive them. Apart from your rapt daily assessment of your captors, there's not much else for you to do other than suffer. Though you choose to do it silently unlike Kieran for you fear if you open your mouth god knows what will come out of it. Plus the second you allow yourself to truly indulge in your fears, is the moment you lose your ability to be present in any given situation and survive it.

The passerby Kieran is wailing to is a big heavy set man who you've guessed is the camp cook, or something like that. Pearson is what everyone calls him. He is always one of the first to wake, preparing a communal coffee pot which he sets by a fire pit that burns a couple paces in front of Kieran and your tree, and then sets to work on various chores like chopping up fresh game or tanning leather, before starting on a stew of some sort for dinner. The smells of food, actual hearty food, has been the worst torture thus far. You've shit and wet yourself more than you'd care to keep track of and it makes you wish for death more than wading through miles of hip deep snow did. You're constantly terrified your body will shut down without your consent too, rendering you unconscious and unprotected. You hadn't slept a whole week after you were first tied to the tree, and you've barely done so since. It's been about three weeks now.  

Pearson doesn't even look your way, much to Kieran's disappointment, and continues on with his routine deaf and blind like everyone else is to your pain. You don't know why Kieran's trying so hard. I mean yeah you want mercy too but from the welcome you've been given, you seriously doubt begging for scraps of kindness like Kieran is will give you much favor when they do eventually decide what to do with you. You want to think it couldn't hurt to try, but with these kind of people you figure compassion is a tall order to expect of them, let alone ask of them.

"When is this gonna end!" Kieran cries to no one in particular as he sags against the tree and hangs his head. His defeat you feel in the core of your being.

"Speak! Don't cry, boy." Someone barks suddenly, making you both jump at being addressed directly as it usually foreshadows bruises and split lips.

A figure appears out of the heavy morning fog like a menacing monster from a story book. Reality soothes your strained imagination when you recognize the man as Arthur as he bends down over the fire to pour himself a cup of coffee. A strange kind of relief twists in your gut -- at least it's not Bill. Bill had yet to take up on his promise to 'break you for his own' and 'make you squeal'.  

"Speak. About your gang." Arthur stands to his full height once he's done with the pot, walking lazily over to stand in front of the both of you with all the causal menace of a great predator.

Blowing gently on the hot beverage Arthur settles his weight in one hip before taking a measured sip from the steaming tin cup, his free hand adjusting his ammunition belt that hangs low on his hips. When he brings the cup away from his face and swallows with a soft hum of contentment, Kieran drops his head at the display and starts honest to god sobbing.

"I can't..." Kieran whimpers, his lungs working against the tightness in his throat.

"Boy," Arthur warns, violence coloring his eyes as he just stands in front of the both of you and sips. He knows Kieran and you are close to breaking, knows it and relishes in it.

Fucking bastard.

"Excuse me?"

Your heart jumps when you realize you had just said that out loud. Dread promptly drains all the blood from your face.

"Wanna say that again?" Arthur turns his full attention to you as Kieran heaves around tears that won't come because the both of you are too dehydrated.

Your first instinct is to cower, to submit, to survive, but there's something severe in the way Arthur makes you feel as he glares at you. A dare. A threat. And now that you've opened your mouth, the first time doing so since the mountains, you can't stop yourself from repeating with perfectly articulated diction,

"Fucking bastard."

"First time you've spoken since the mountains and that's what you choose to say? Aw that's not too smart. Not the language of a lady, is it?"

As you press your lips together your chin gives a violent quiver at the clear implication in his tone. Your eyes grow guarded and your fear swiftly resurfaces and makes itself known by twisting your gut into knots. Arthur locks you into a staring contest you can't escape from. Unfocused, directionless rage holds court in his eyes, looking like its lived there unchecked for some time -- grown rotten -- though the rest of his expression speaks to a more complex range of emotions you don't know him well enough to decode. Of all the people in the gang, Arthur you know the least about. He's a ghost. He's rarely in camp and when he is his stays are short. This makes Arthur and his actions impossible to predict. Which makes Arthur the most dangerous. What you are able to gather though besides the undercurrent of rage, is an unimaginable need to unleash said rage on anyone or anything. You refuse to be the excuse he needs so you shut up and just stare back, unsure of what you are attempting to prove or accomplish by not looking away. What you gain by facing all that rage.

"Woah, hold your horses," Comes a new voice as another monster emerges from the fog.

It's the man with curly black shoulder length hair, the one with the authority, the one that everyone seems to listen to without question. Dutch is his name. Your first impression of him pleading in that cabin in the mountains with the man you've remembered to be Hosea, contradicts the swaggering asshole he presents himself as to Kieran and you. Though he's a swaggering asshole to everyone but these people...this gang. His gang. You made sure to pick out the leaders and sort out the hierarchy first.  

Dutch saunters up to stand beside Arthur followed by that horrible wretch Bill.

"It seems the cat has got our friend here's tongues." Dutch continues in a colorful drawl, "I was thinking Mr. Williamson could have a word."

'The pleasure of breakin' you for my own is gonna be so much fun.'

You violently shove away the memory of Bill's promise before it shows on your face. You pretend you don't remember the fact that they took the metal cot from the mountain cabin with them, and that Bill is probably itching to stretch you out on it and torture you for information you didn't have.

"You ready to talk boy?" Bill snarls as he gets up in Kieran's face before turning his eye on you and giving you a toothy sneer, showing off all of his yellowing teeth, "What about you? You ready to share?"

"I told you mister," Kieran all but whimpers as his eyes jump between all three men with a desperation you are currently trying to swallow. Bill swings his attention away from you, "I told all of you. I don't know nothin' okay? Th-they ain't no friends of mine. I've just been ridin' with 'em for awhile --,"

"Horseshit!" Bill interrupts with a loud curse, causing you to flinch so harshly against the tree you slice one of your raw fingers on a peeling piece of bark. Arthur almost startles because of how badly you startled. He notes the steady stream of blood dripping down into the grass from your fingers tied behind your back. His eyebrows furrow. He says nothing. "You see we heard that part so how about you tell the truth."

Bill turns to you for an answer, receives none, then turns to Dutch.

"Dutch what do you want me to do?"

"Hurt them so the next time they open their mouths, it is to tell us what is goin' on!" Dutch nearly shouts, causing you to involuntarily shut your eyes and shake as your fear gets the better of you despite your efforts to be brave. They all pick up on your fear now, blatant as it is in the wake of such a threat of violence. "Ah who am I kiddin'," Dutch lowers his voice to almost a hush, tone growing oddly intimate as he pushes his face closer and closer to yours, "O'Driscolls won't open their mouths, unless to tell a lie."

There's a beat of silence as Dutch eyes you up, then Kieran -- determining how hard it'll be to break you.

"Screw it. Let's just have some fun!" Dutch turns to Bill and scissors his fingers, "Geld him."

"Oh yeah!" Bill whoops as he bounds off to get whatever torture instrument they have ready.

Dutch turns to you then as Kieran's panic rockets alongside yours, "Arthur,"

Arthur has been quiet this whole time, so you jolt when he adjusts his weight between his feet at being called upon. He's standing closer to you than you thought.

"If you'd be so kind," Dutch says as he holds his hand up in a clear gesture for Arthur to back hand you across the face. You can't even look at Arthur, at either of them as Kieran's wails fill your ears and your heartbeat suffocates the breath in your dry swollen throat. Your eyes close again and like when you were young, you somehow hope that if you can't see what is trying to harm you, then it can't see you either.

--

Arthur hesitates.

He hesitates too long and something shifts in Dutch's eyes then. It's small and Arthur doesn't notice because he can't pull his gaze away from the woman shivering in front of him. What kind of a man beats a cowering helpless woman, Arthur thinks to himself.

What kind of man would ask you to do that? A tiny voice deep in his mind furthers.

Arthur can feel Dutch scowling at his hesitation, though he remains silent until Bill returns with a pair of hot iron tongs. Dutch and Bill cajole the O'Driscoll boy about losing his balls and Dutch goes on about eunuchs in Rome or something, but Arthur can't do much else but watch the woman try to breathe. He hears it wheeze a little whenever she inhales and it makes something in his gut twist uncomfortably. Bill snapping the hot tongs inches from the boy's crotch catches Arthur's attention and he finds himself whiplashing back into the present, not realizing he'd been transported from it in the first place.

"You sick bastards! What do you want from me!" The O'Driscoll cries out as he squishes himself as far back against the tree as his bindings allow.

"Well, you are going to talk," Dutch says, his bravado restored as Arthur's attention returns to the present at his words, "The only question is now, or after we got these little fellers off?"

"Okay! Okay! Listen! I know where O'Driscoll's holed up and you're right, he don't like you any more than you like him. He's at Six Point Cabin, I'll take you there! Serious, I don't like him. I mean I like him even less than I like you -- no offense."

Dutch scoffs, "None taken."

He then puts a hand on Bill's arm, and Williamson lowers the tongs.

"Okay then partner," Arthur starts, "Why don't you take a few of us up there right now."

Arthur turns to Dutch and nods, "I got this Dutch. Should be fun!"

As he moves around Bill and begins to untie the boy, Bill says, "Well what about the whore?"

Arthur's fingers slip on the knot he'd been working on. He grunts his frustration and pulls his hunting knife out, cutting clean through the ropes in one deft swipe.

Dutch hums to himself, appraising the woman with something entirely wicked gleaming in his eye.

"Do what you want with her. She might know more... personal information on Colm than the boy. Women I have found are always harder to break, so don't go easy on her."

Bill cackles at that and starts to move towards the woman and Arthur can't --

"Dutch," Arthur hears himself interject, chest tight, "Lets leave her alone for now. Brute force ain't gon' work on this one anyway, I can feel it. She seems the smart silent type."

Arthur sees something foreign swirl in Dutch's irises, something he's never seen there before -- can't identify -- which is strange because he knows Dutch better than he knows himself, but its then that Arthur realizes he'd subconsciously moved to place himself between Williamson and the woman. Shuddering breaths sound quietly from behind him and it makes him clench his teeth.

"Plus," Arthur forces out of his tight jaw, "I think Williamson should come with me to shoot up the O'Driscoll's our friend here will be leadin' us to." Arthur nods his head at Bill, "Go grab Marston and tell him he's ridin' with us."

Bill looks to Dutch,

"Go with Arthur," Dutch says, "We'll leave the other O'Driscoll here to contemplate her options."

Arthur turns then, actively choosing to ignore the subtle complexity of what just happened, as he hauls the O'Driscoll boy along threatening him the entire short way to the hitching posts.

--

Across camp Hosea had been watching the whole exchange. His eyebrows dig low into his gaze when he catches the undecipherable look Dutch gives Arthur's back.

--

The second you're left alone, you feel exposed in a way you hadn't before. With Kieran gone you find your fear has tripled. There is no one to share the horror with, no one to exchange small whispered words of comfort in the middle of the night, no one to just be there beside you. It's just you, freshly re-tied to the tree, by yourself and vulnerable. It hits you then how truly alone you are, and you realize that you literally don't know anybody. Even if you escaped or were miraculously let go, you couldn't reach out to anyone not because there's no cell phones or any means of getting in touch with someone, but because no one you know has been born yet. You are alone in the world, alone like you've never been before. You have no one.

You have no one.

--

The punch of devastation lands swiftly against your chest. The feeling takes your breath away and despite all your success in not showing your true feelings thus far, your face crumples and your head, suddenly much too heavy to hold up, lowers to hang. And like a button was pressed your lungs heave dry sobs past your lips. You're so distracted with your sorrow you forget to stifle your noises.

"Miss?"

Your head shoots up and a painful gasp wrenches open your cinched airways.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to startle you."

It takes your eyes a moment to settle on the tiny figure before you. The sun has journeyed over the sky some since Arthur took Kieran, so evening shadows have begun casting themselves low along the ground. The young boy Jack's shadow stretches all the way to your feet. Your heart settles some from its frantic galloping when you take in the boy's face. Curiosity holds most of the real estate on his features at the moment and you try to soothe yourself as he prepares to talk.

"I was just wonderin' if you were alright?" Jack has his hands knotted together like he knows he's doing something he shouldn't be. You figure talking to the camp prisoner fell under things his mother Abigail would firmly disapprove of.

"I'm okay Jack, go back to your mother. She'll want you near since its getting darker." You manage to say after wrestling your heartbeat and breathing back to normal.

Jack scuffs the tip of his small worn shoe against the dirt, eyes down, head cocked a little as he thinks.

"I just heard you makin' sounds I make when I'm really sad," Your heart clenches at his innocence, at the free kindness of a child, "And I just wanted to tell you that I hope you feel better."

With that Jack quickly turns and scampers away -- only to run smack into Javier who happened to be walking by.

"Woah!" Javier exclaims as he trips over the small kid and Jack tumbles to his knees with a small 'oof', "Slow down Jack,"

Jack mumbles something to Javier you can't hear (you assume its an apology), before Javier helps him to his feet and watches as Jack sprints off in the direction of his mother. Javier looks after Jack for a moment before retracing the boy's initial direction and finding his eyes landing on you. Your heart stops and you immediately lower your gaze. Besides Arthur, Javier is the hardest to get a read on, the hardest to predict. Even towards his own gang members the man keeps people on their best behavior and at a distance. You feel him deciding whether or not to come over, a few throbbing beats go by then -- thank god -- you hear him walk away towards one of the main campfires where most of the camp is collected. Everyone is currently eating dinner and you're grateful the beginnings of a song is enough to coax the man away.

As you sag against the tree you can do nothing but hope for Kieran's return...if he returns at all.  

What if Arthur kills him? What if Bill or John kills him?

What if Kieran is set free or escapes and never comes back?

You're especially terrified of that. Of him choosing to leave you even though you wouldn't blame him if he did and would probably do the exact same if the situation were reversed. You know you're just being selfish and awful but you can't help it.

You have no one.  

"You're free!"

Your head jerks up at the sound of a familiar voice a few hours later and the loss of tension in the ropes holding you hostage. You don't have the ability to respond as your lungs decide to freeze solid in your chest while your mind works to digest his words. You near collapse as the meaning of them finally settles.

"Wha --," You start with your eyebrows low, chest tight, and scarcely believing what you're hearing.

"Just what do you think you're doin'?" Kieran and you both jump at Arthur's booming voice as he manifests out of the murky evening shadows to loom behind Kieran.

Kieran pivots, "I-I-I thought you said I was one of you now? I th-thought --,"

"I said you's apart of us now, not her."

"But I told you she ain't an O'Driscoll! I told you she --,"

"Just because she ain't an O'Driscoll don't mean she's not a spy." Dutch boasts as he exists his tent, approaching the situation with a very unfriendly look in his eye that does not bode well for you.

You shrink back against the tree, no matter how much the action hurts your back and savagely kills your hope.

"The second you're told you're allowed to live you try settin' our prisoner free? That ain't makin' me too happy boah," Arthur grits through his teeth at Kieran who is quickly backing away from you, arms thrown up in surrender.

"That's not what I meant!" Kieran rushes to explain as you stare up at Dutch who watches you cower before him, "I didn't mean no offense! Promise! I thought --,"

"Well it don't matter what you thought! You may be travelin' with us now but you is still an O'Driscoll, you still hold no respect or position in this gang let alone have the freedom to choose whether or not to release goddamn prisoners!"

Kieran stumbles on something as he'd been backing up from a slowly advancing Arthur, and he trips and falls. He scrambles to his knees and stays there.

"Please sir I didn't mean nothin' by it! I'm sorry!"

"What is it you want Miss?" Dutch drawls as he addresses you. Arthur turns his attention towards you at Dutch's words.

"What?" You whisper, not able to manage a stronger tone.

"What is it, that you want?" Dutch repeats with diction so sharp it could cut.

You know this is probably a trick question, but you're too scared and your mind is too scattered by panic to think of anything clever.

"I want to go home." You reply in hushed devastated defeat.

"And where is home exactly?"

You pause at this, unsure of what to say.

Ah yes I'm from the future and I don't know how to get back! I've time traveled you see and have no idea where I am, what year it is, or who the fuck you people are! Also time traveling is apparently a no shoes no shirt no pants kind of service and you loose any recent memories on top of it! I don't know where I was when I traveled, if I did anything specific or was with anyone when it happened. I remember everything up until the big black space in my memory! Very confusing I know, but if you'd be so kind as to not burn me alive for witchcraft and send me on my way that'd be great!  

"Where are you from?" Dutch demands again, moving closer to you and becoming more menacing as you hesitate.

"Up north mostly." Is the weak answer you end up going with.

"Where up north, mostly?" Dutch immediately furthers.

Your mind goes blank when Arthur moves closer to you, both men crowding you into a corner, pushing you back into the tree with each step towards you.

"Why won't you tell us where you are from?"

You silently apologize to your family and friends, but mostly to yourself as you finally...after all this suffering...despite your promises to fight...

Silence reigns, signaling your choice to give up. These people want to kill you, hurt you, have been wanting to finish what they started and you're done denying the inevitability of your situation. You're done.

You hear the click of the safety before you register the hollow barrel of a revolver Dutch points straight between your eyes. No reaction claims your body though, no emotion runs through your heart, no clever escape plan tries to desperately form in your mind...just emptiness and a hollowed out feeling you assume used to be your agony.

"I'll ask you one last time, where are you from?" Dutch pauses then adds, "And who do you work for? Is it the Pinkertons? You have a contract with them?"

"Who?" You find yourself breathing out on a weak exhale, unable to do anything else but stare through the barrel of the weapon aimed at you, past Dutch, and into the nothingness you would soon join.

"They say they'll pay a handsome sum if you bring us all in?!"

Your face smoothes out as Dutch becomes more impassioned. Here it comes.

"You workin' with the law?! You an agent from Blackwater?!"

"Dutch --," A new voice attempts to interrupt. The older man, Hosea, appears at Dutch's flank. His eyes alight with alarm.

"How much money they offerin' you?! They holdin' your secrets hostage?!"

You close your eyes. Any second now.

"Dutch!" Hosea yells, but Dutch remains undeterred.

"You apart of a network?! Huh?! Are there people you workin' with?! Do you have people?!"

"I..." The world crystallizes into glass around you, immortalizing the moment, "I have no one." You whisper, voice collapsing as your soul wrenches itself free with each breath, preparing to depart. "I have nothing. I am no one." In this time.

A feeling so volatile and destructive ignites in your chest then and it reminds you of dying stars. You fall to your knees.

--

Arthur feels violently uncomfortable as he watches the woman once again dissolve into misery, not even afraid anymore just...done. She's given up. To see someone let go like that makes Arthur cling to his desire to stay alive even more fiercely than he already does. The simple cosmic irony of giving up in a world where dying happens so easily anyway is wrong -- unnatural, it goes against everything Arthur knows.

Two graves. Ten dollars.

Arthur's chest seizes as his reality spins, no one should give up like that. But its not until Arthur sees the look on Hosea's face that the true severity of what they're doing to the woman sinks in. Arthur feels like a hole has just been punched straight through his chest, leaving a gaping gory mass of space where his heart should be as he realizes the look on Hosea's face is disgust.

Disgust.

And its aimed at Dutch.

An inhale forces itself past Arthur's lips and burns in his chest when Hosea steps in front of the woman, and slowly crouches down before her.

"Wha -- Hosea," Dutch attempts to explain, affronted and just as shocked as Arthur by the look he'd been given, "I had to get the truth out of her! You know how watched we are these days. It was for the safety of the gang! I had to do it for us!"

Arthur thinks that's a good reason, he'd do anything for the gang too even if the method didn't sit well with him and it cost him hours of sleep at night, but Hosea doesn't even bother to respond as he starts murmuring soft things to the shaking woman on the ground.

--

When you hear the safety click back on and Dutch smoothly holster his weapon, a surge of sensation overwhelms you. It feels like breaching the surf of a raging ocean, sound-sight-smell-touch-breath-life roaring at you from all sides. The high that comes after surviving hits you hard -- your soul resettling in your body -- accompanied by a few choice emotions; surprise in yourself is one of them, relief is the most prominent, but that disturbingly detached sort of defeat still lurks in the middle of it all.

You realize with a start that you just evolved, you were presented with an opportunity to fail -- your life literally on the line -- and you survived, even if just barely. A man, Hosea you think, is crouching in front of you, voice gentle words soft trying to coax you away from the emptiness as Dutch rounds on Kieran.

"Whats your name?" He inquires delicately, a kind of respect lining his tone that wasn't there before.

The only hard confirmation you have that you are no longer a prisoner.

Fuck him, you seethe as suddenly that void in you is lit up and replacing it -- manifesting from it -- is insurmountable wrath that burns through what's left of your reservations, fuck all of them.

Eyes a riot of chaos and emotional carnage, you lift your gaze up to Hosea. You watch him take in your expression, watch him as he realizes how dangerous it was to mistreat you. He falls silent, weathered face dropping from its genuine sympathetic plight to one of poorly masked weariness.

You say your name and its a promise, "Y/n."

--

Arthur knows then that if they don't make her one of them, have her truly believe she has a place in their gang, she would find a way to kill them all.

He witnesses as her will rises from the ashes of her defeat like a phoenix, sparking an invisible fuse with an unpredictable and inevitable explosion at the end of it. Her rebirth is the most magnificent, humbling, and terrifying thing he has ever witnessed. It puts him in sheer trembling awe of her, the kind of awe he gets when watching a bear fight off a pack of wolves single-handedly and win. The kind of awe that leaves him speechless, that appeals to his own unyielding will and tells him he doesn't stand a chance, not really, not if its important, not against her.

He sees the fury take hold of her, relishing in its newest host, and the twisted part of him that's sick with violence grins.

Unable, or more like unwilling, to process the swath of emotion currently attempting to suffocate him, Arthur tears his gaze away from her -- away from her fury that threatens to ignite his own, and heads straight for Sabine before getting the fuck out of camp.

--

Thoughts? Share them if you’d like! xxx

Chapter 4

Masterlist

[tvdversefanfiction]

Canary Carnage

Chapter Thirteen: Killer Carnage

Warnings: I don’t own any of the rights, content or characters belonging to any of the DC content I use within the story along with not owning any rights, content or characters within The Vampire Diaries, Originals or Legacies.

18 Rating: Moderate/Graphic displays of violence, sexual innuendos, sexually charged scenes, SMUT, strong language and potentially triggering scenes.

Pairings: M/M, F/F, M/F.

Elijah Mikaelson couldn’t help but to be left feeling uneasy following Laurel Lance returning to New Orleans permanently although he definitely enjoyed having her back he could help but feel guilty for wanting her back in a city that held so much pain for the both of them.

However it was Lucas Lance’s return or rather the arrival of his Earth X doppelganger Lucas Wayne that Elijah was much more concerned by and so he wasted very little time in getting to know the infamous Blue Canary, quickly discovering that Lucas Wayne was a far cry from Lucas Lance.

Although there were similarities between the two doppelgangers other than their looks: Both Lucas’ were smart and calculating with a determined drive to stay alive, both had complicated relationships with their biological mothers and both had managed to capture the attention of Elijah’s brother Klaus Mikaelson much to everyone’s worries considering how bad the original hybrid’s curiosity with Lucas Lance ended.

“I see your settling into New Orleans rather well Mr Wayne.” Elijah greeted the Earth X doppelganger after vamp speeding into Rousseau's, speeding over to the bar counter to find Lucas Wayne serving drinks to customers with Josh stood by his side. “I believe your also living with the Lance sisters at their hotel.”

“I’ve got this,” Lucas told Josh before walking over to face off with the noble original vampire, leaving Josh to tend to customers as he spoke to Elijah. “The pristine suit which looks pricy as hell must mean you’re Elijah Mikaelson. I’ve met your brother Klaus he’s what I call an original stalker of sorts.”

“My brother Niklaus is merely being cautious you see your doppelganger Lucas Lance proved himself rather troublesome for everyone including himself and we don’t want a repeat of that for everyone’s sakes…especially your mother’s.” Elijah informed the Blue Canary.

“I get it Lucas Lance was the villain in your story but in mine people like you, your siblings and god even my mother were the villains.” Lucas replied to Elijah. “I’m here because I have nowhere else to go and I’m beginning to believe I’m here to save this city.”

“What is it you think that this city needs saving from?” Elijah scoffed at him as he took a seat at the counter.

“First guess would be the vampires who treat humans like walking snacks, the wolves keep themselves to themselves so they’re not on the agenda and the witches are pretty hit and miss.” Lucas answered him before going over to pour the original a glass of straight whisky before walking back over and serving Elijah his drink. “I’m not coming for anyone in particular but I won’t stand by if anyone or anything comes for the few innocents around here.”

“Are you threatening me Mr Wayne or are you threatening my entire family?” Elijah asked him before taking a drink of his whisky, only to smile at the taste of this whisky. “I guess you’re the kind of bartender who knows their customer’s drink.”

“I like Sara and I’m even fond of Laurel so when they tell me somebody’s good I’ll accept it until they prove otherwise however nobody has anything nice to say about Klaus Mikaelson and his stalking of me isn’t helping me think otherwise.” Lucas admitted to Elijah. “As for your drink consider it on me as a thanks for putting your brother in line…unless you want me to do the job for you?”

“My brother Niklaus isn’t someone who is easily handled especially considering how fond he was of your doppelganger…personally I didn’t see why.” Elijah informed Lucas before downing his drink and placing the empty glass onto the counter. “I much prefer this Lucas standing in front of me however morals are a rare thing around here and they tend to get you killed.”

“I’ll keep that in mind Mr Mikaelson.” Lucas responded with a sincere smile on his face before Elijah vamp sped out of Rousseau's and out of sight.

“Declaring war on the Mikaelson’s doesn’t end well for you trust me my friend Marcel once thought he could survive that family and let’s just say you won’t see him in New Orleans anymore.” Josh warned Lucas as he walked over to his new employee. “He was considered family to them as well.”

“I’ve dealt with murderous mothers, overbearing fathers, endless superhuman enemies and literally Nazi’s in my time I’m sure I can handle a vampire or two.” Lucas boasted to his vampire boss only to be met by Josh laughing at him.

“Funny your less evil than your evil twin but your just as foolish.” Josh scoffed at the Blue Canary. “Forgive me for my advice I’m just the only person in this city that doesn’t seem to have a death wish.”

Josh Rosza was far wiser than his years but hid behind an adorable yet admit-tingly dorky personality which had served him very well as a vampire especially considering everyone around him had died and yet he continued to advise his friends to follow suit only to see them take different paths.

His first greatest loss was the love of his life Aiden who fell victim to the Mikael’s ruthless aunt Dahlia before he found himself losing his best friend Davina several times before losing her for what seemed like for good and in the last five years alone he had lost his close friend Marcel Gerard again due to the Mikaelson’s.

When Davina first returned to New Orleans five years ago Josh’s biggest fear was losing her again to a doomed fate but instead, she gave up her need for vengeance against Klaus as she fell back in love with Kol and got married.

Although the wonder witch still lived in the city their friendship had changed and became strained as Josh made clear his distaste over their handling of Marcel Gerard. Josh was determined to find Marcel being the only one who hadn’t given up on the updated original and that put a strain on his relationship with Davina Claire-Mikaelson.

However, in the last five years he had found himself forming a new friendship with the Black Canary keeping in touch over his mission to find his friend and her mission to save the world and now he had her son, or at least some version of her son, working for him and feared Lucas Wayne would either follow the same path as his doppelganger Lucas Lance or his estranged friend Davina.

Five years earlier Klaus Mikaelson had found himself growing rather close to Lucas Lance despite a determination to do anything considering the Red Canary was selfish, reckless, manipulative and calculating, all the things Klaus used to be before he became a father. It took him time to realize that what attracted him most to Lucas was how much the canary reminded him of himself.

Of course it grew more complicated as he learned more about the Red Canary realizing the meta-human was nowhere near as heartless as he’d have liked people to admit and far more troubled than even he realized unleashing Klaus’ need to want to help Lucas find his way like his siblings and his daughter helped him but unlike Klaus’ long and immortal life the Red Canary’s life was cut short.

Lucas Lance was never a great love of his life and Klaus doubted he would’ve been had they been together longer but his memory did serve as a painful reminder of a time he failed somebody he actually wanted to help and therefore the arrival of Lucas’ Earth X doppelganger Lucas Wayne only served to remind the original hybrid even more and for that reason he had been avoiding the Blue Canary like a plague until he was told to do exactly that and Klaus Mikaelson never did what he was told.

“Listen up Klaus because I’m only going to say this once under no circumstances whatsoever are you to come near Lucas. The last thing we need right now is your undead ass fucking up my sister’s chance of getting to know her son.” Sara demanded as she walked into the compound to find Klaus stood waiting for her.

“Just because my sister has grown fond of you doesn’t mean I’m not going to tear your head off for the nerve of trying to make demands of me besides the last Lucas found more danger with you than he ever did with me.” Klaus snapped back at the White Canary.

“That was different…we had just lost our mother…we thought there was no going back for him.” Sara replied with a clear sense of regret in her voice. “This is our chance to do right by him.”

“The only problem with that logic is Lucas Wayne isn’t Lucas Lance which means he’s not your nephew or your sister’s son. You’ve just let some stranger straight into your home because he looks familiar.” Klaus told her with a hint of judgement on his face, knowing Sara, Laurel and Rebekah were to blame for Lucas Lance’s demise.

“He is Lucas though or at least the way Lucas used to be until everything went to shit. This version of him is kind, loyal and heroic just like the baby brother I grew up with.” Sara admitted to the original hybrid as tears formed in her eyes. “He may have a different history and he may not know me or Laurel but he’s so much like the Lucas I used to know it makes me feel…”

“Guilty that you gave up on the original?” Klaus butted in, all too eager to make the canary feel even more guilty. “He’s not your second chance Sara and he’s not going to make it right how you and your sister plotted to murder your own blood all because he had an episode or two.”

“He murdered our mother that’s not an episode or two!” Sara reminded Klaus, furious that the original would dismiss her mother’s death like it was nothing, also furious that she gave up on her adoptive brother so easily and that he was reminding her of how she failed him. “Please just stay the hell away from this Lucas!”

“I’ll take it into consideration Miss Lance.” Klaus lied, knowing damn fine he was now going to make himself well known to the Blue Canary.

Klaus Mikaelson initially had no intention to have any contact with Lucas Wayne following their initial meeting weeks ago but after learning how much Sara Lance wanted him to stay away he just couldn’t pass an opportunity to put the White Canary in her place still loathing her for murdering his elder sister Freya Mikaelson and holding her just as responsible for Laurel in the parts they played in Lucas Lance’s death.

In fact, Klaus genuinely believed he had moved on from Lucas Lance’s death but the idea of his family being so quick to embrace a purer version of him angered the original hybrid far more than he thought it would and now he wanted to teach the Lance sisters a lesson for dishonoring the memory of a man they helped murder.

Caitlin Snow was a powerful woman long before she discovered she was a meta-human working as a well-respected bio-engineer at S.T.A.R. Labs alongside her fiancé Ronnie Raymond who was a structural engineer for the company but everything changed for her upon her fiance's mysterious disappearance eventually turning her from a loving and caring woman to someone with an ice cold heart as Killer Frost was born.

Caitlin chose a life of villainy following her heartbreak after discovering her powers of thermometric cryokinesis taking on the villainess mantle as Killer Frost leaving Caitlin Snow and all she worked for behind which led to her becoming enemies with some of the most powerful heroes including the Black Canary.

Killer Frost had a long and complicated history with Laurel Lance having once been best friends with the canary only to later become obsessed in bringing her down always failing until the death of the multiverse gave her an opportunity to arrive on Earth X, a world which followed none of the rules that the other worlds did in the now dead multiverse.

The realization that the Black Canary currently residing within Earth X wasn’t the Black Canary from her world hadn’t stopped her obsession especially with Killer Frost’s new friends, all of which were determined to destroy at least one if not all three of the canaries within New Orleans.

“In such a big and busy city, it’s quite remarkable to find such peace in a quiet little place like this.” Frost stated as she walked into the quiet Rousseau's bar to find Lucas Wayne stood behind the bar wiping down the counter. “Either you’re a really bad bartender or people are scared to come into this establishment.”

“I guess you’re officially stopping me from having to close anytime soon.” Lucas greeted the long white-haired woman as she walked over to the bar and sat down at the counter. “You look strangely familiar…have we met before?”

“Nope you don’t exist in my timeline or my world which also doesn’t exist anymore.” She replied, making it clear to the Blue Canary that she was from the multiverse. “This world is quite intriguing, but the only downfall seems to be there’s one too many Lances around here.”

“I’m a Wayne not a Lance but I’m more interested in who the bloody hell you are?” Lucas wondered just as Laurel walked into the bar looking horrified to see Killer Frost, who instantly rose from her chair and turned around to face the Black Canary.

“Killer Frost…you’re supposed to be long dead not to mention the world itself died after you!” Laurel said in shock, clearly uneasy to see an old foe.

“I’m not exactly the Killer Frost you know but I hate you just as much if not more.” Frost revealed to Laurel, as she found herself stood between both canaries. “If you think your Earth X son was the only one to jump ship before the death of the multiverse than you thought wrong.”

“You should leave now before you wind up just as dead as your other doppelgangers!” Laurel warned Frost, with a look of hatred in her eyes, a look Lucas had never seen from the Black Canary but had seen from the Black Siren one time too many.

“My father told me all about you, you were long dead on my Earth too but you were quite the formidable foe before that…in my world you were my twisted mother’s closest confidant so it only makes sense you hate the good versions of her.” Lucas piped in, once again showing a vast knowledge about the multiverse.

“You’re so much more than just a looker if only you were a bit redder instead of blue we may have got along!” Killer Frost told Lucas before lifting her hand in his direction shooting out a large ice blast from the palm of her hands as Laurel released a canary cry in her direction, the ice blast hitting Lucas and throwing him into the glass cabinet filled with alcohol destroying it before throwing Lucas down to the ground, as Laurel’s canary cry sent the villainess Killer Frost flying across the bar before hitting a wall and crash landing onto the ground.

“I warned you to get the hell out of here Caitlin!” Laurel shouted at the doppelganger of her nemesis. “Now I’m going to have to teach you a lesson.”

The Blue Canary and Killer Frost both rose to their feet at the same time, the Blue Canary ready to charge at the villainess white haired woman while the white haired woman had all eyes on the Black Canary but before anyone could attack Klaus vamp sped into the bar, speeding all the way over to Lucas before grabbing a hold of him and vamp speeding out of Rousseau's with the Blue Canary leaving a confused Laurel Lance standing alone in the bar with her nemesis Caitlin Snow.

“Well I was planning on killing you both, but I suppose I’m not totally pissed it’s just you and me now!” Killer Frost told the Black Canary before raising her hand to release another ice blast in Laurel’s direction, just as Laurel released a large canary cry in the direction of the villainess.

If Laurel was going to win against Caitlin Snow’s ruthless alter ego Killer Frost then she had better get her head in the game but with the doppelganger of her son just being kidnapped by Klaus Mikaelson she couldn’t help but worry about Lucas Wayne and what the original hybrid had in store for him.

Klaus Mikaelson had learned a lot about the canaries during the five years in which Sara and Laurel had clashed with him and his family and although his siblings had built friendships with the Lance sisters he had kept wary of them deciding to instead study the canaries and learn their weaknesses.

Klaus was forever paranoid about betrayals and potential feuds after all his family’s worst enemies tended to be close allies at some stage before turning against them and so he found it wiser to study all that came into his life knowing how best to take them both down if he needed to, which he always did.

He knew Laurel’s canary cry was pretty powerful so much so that it destroyed the hollow and their blood was special enough to restore Elijah’s memories and he also knew the canaries could die just like Lucas Lance died or be turned into a vampire like Sara Lance.

The canaries were powerful but only as powerful as their cry or at least that’s what Klaus believed and thanks to a brief alliance with Nyssa al Ghul he knew exactly how to deal with a canary cry putting the Blue Canary exactly where he wanted him.

“This should give us some proper time alone!” Klaus stated after vamp speeding into Lafayette Cemetery with Lucas and putting a power dampening collar around the son of batman’s neck. “Don’t want you getting any advantage over me with that damn canary cry.”

Lucas wasted no time in grabbing a hold of the original hybrid’s arm as he bent himself over and threw Klaus over his back until the vampire hit the ground with force while Lucas twisted his arm, popping the arm out of its socket before harshly stomping his foot down on Lucas’ throat, easing off just enough to let the hybrid speak.

“I don’t need a cry to kick your ass Klaus!” Lucas shouted at him before Klaus grabbed a hold of the Blue Canary and flung him over his body forcing the canary to land on the ground next to the vampire, as Klaus popped his arm back into its socket after a series of groans.

“I hate you!” Klaus furiously stated to Lucas as he climbed on top of his body, preparing to strangle the canary only to be headbutt in the face by Lucas, followed by Lucas kicking the vampire upwards, before Klaus finally found his footing as Lucas stood up to face him.

“You don’t even know me!” Lucas snapped back at Klaus before the original hybrid sped towards him, only for the Blue Canary to deliver a series of punches across the vampire’s face before Klaus threw him to the ground, Lucas grabbing a hold of Klaus, making the vampire fall on top of the canary.

“I…” Klaus said before pausing as he looked into the eyes of the Blue Canary, as hidden feelings began to rise and suddenly the vampire found himself kissing a stunned Lucas only for Lucas to respond by grabbing the vampire and throwing his body over his own, making Klaus hit the ground harshly once again as Lucas rose to his feet.

“What the hell do you think your doing?” Lucas questioned Klaus, as Klaus quickly stood back up, both looking as confused as the other.

“You just look so much like him…” Klaus reluctantly admitted to the canary. “I guess the only reason I want you dead is because your forcing me to feel something I don’t want to feel.”

“I surprisingly understand where you’re coming from I mean I’m not going around trying to kill then kiss people but it’s not easy seeing a doppelganger of my mother whose nothing like her so I can only imagine how hard it must be to see a doppelganger of somebody you were once in love with.” Lucas replied to Klaus, surprising the original with his kindness.

“I was never in love with Lucas Lance…I cared for him, but I never loved him.” Klaus revealed to the Blue Canary, admitting not only to him but himself. “I don’t normally try to be a hero, but I really wanted to save him and not because I loved him but because he reminded me of him.”

“Sara filled me in on how you used to be a lot worse than what you are now which is saying something if this is the filtered down version.” Lucas joked with Klaus as he sat down on a nearby wall. “I guess my doppelganger reminded you of just how bad you were, how far you’ve come and how much better your life is because of it. You wanted that for him because if he could get it someone who was probably nowhere near as ruthless as you once were then in some way it’d be like you deserved the life your living but instead he got took down and you can’t help but think maybe you should’ve been taken out too.”

“Are you seriously trying to psychoanalyze me because I can promise you, I’m nowhere near as deep as you’re assuming, I am nor do I regret any action I’ve made in the past.” Klaus argued with Lucas, refusing to admit there was some truth in Lucas’ words.

“Sometimes heroes last long enough to become villains and sometimes villains find their way back to heroes once more but that’s not on anybody if they don’t find their way back least of all a thousand year old vampire whose actions are morally questionable on a good day.” Lucas explained to Klaus, as Klaus sat down next to the Blue Canary, listening to him despite looking like he wanted to be anywhere else. “I’m not Lucas Lance but I’m not some pillar of purity and goodness either we live in a grey world Klaus although admittedly redder here on Earth Blood. I can’t say what happened to my doppelganger was the right way to handle him nor it was the wrong way but what I can say is he’s not me and he’s not you either…it’s time to let it go.”

Lucas was right about Klaus holding onto the past righter than he could have possibly known as Klaus realized the words coming out of this Earth X doppelganger were wise and if he was wise, he’d take the Blue Canary’s advice.

It was in that moment for the first time since Lucas Wayne had arrive on Earth Blood that Klaus Mikaelson had started to see the Blue Canary for who he was and not just who he reminded him of.

Laurel Lance’s history with her world’s Caitlin Snow was very different to the one she had currently found herself coming face to face with: they had never been friends just enemies and it wasn’t the death of Ronnie Raymond which led to the birth of her world’s Killer Frost it was the death of Barry Allen which was her world’s first flash before Wally West took over the mantle.

Laurel may have never seen a good side to Killer Frost but she knew people who did such as Cisco Ramone and Wally West and it was those friendships that constantly put her at odds with the villainess making the Black Canary very wary of the manic meta-human but not fully unaware of her potential to be redeemed.

The Black Canary and Killer Frost’s fight lasted for a long time much to the expense of Rousseau's which had been destroyed from the inside out with broken tables, chairs and bottles spread across the floor with planks of wood and glass scattered everywhere as Laurel found herself beaten, broken and bruised while laid on a floor covered in the ruins of Rousseau's as Killer Frost stood above her looking victorious.

“I’ve always wanted to kill Laurel Lance, but I never thought it would be this easy.” Frost said while taunting Laurel, ready to kill the Black Canary. “It’s just a shame you’re the one who made it here but oh well every Laurel’s practically the same even the not so pure ones.”

“You are better than this Caitlin! I may not know this version of you but every version of you becomes like this because you lose someone you love.” Laurel told the white-haired woman, hoping to appeal to some humanity within her. “I lost my son my actual son and it broke me more than I ever thought it would but what your doing isn’t going to bring them back it’s just dishonoring their memory and what they meant to you.”

“Yeah here’s the thing I no longer care about anyone or anything.” Killer Frost replied as she magically formed an ice pick above her hand from out of thin air before Lucas sped into Rousseau's and clipped the power dampener collar around the white-haired woman’s neck before throwing her to the floor much to Laurel’s relief.

“You’re not going to believe me when I say this, but Klaus Mikaelson actually comes in handy from time to time!” Lucas declared as he walked over to Laurel, offering his hand to her and helping her get back onto her feet.

“Funnily enough I do believe it he always did have a soft spot for that face.” Laurel admitted to Lucas before the both turned to look at a pissed off Killer Frost whose was slowly getting back on her feet as her white hair turned brown.

“What are we going to do about little miss frosty?” Lucas asked Laurel who surprised him with a smile on her face as she watched Killer Frost’s hair turn completely brown.

“We’re going to help Killer Frost find Caitlin Snow once more.” Laurel revealed to a surprised Lucas, who was in awe of this version of his mother’s sense of forgiveness and kindness.

“Okay…but we’re going to need a cage or something to keep her in the meantime.” Lucas suggested just as Klaus sped into Rousseau's with a sinister smirk on his face.

“I may have a prison or two I’d be willing to lend the canaries…pending negotiations of course.” Klaus was eager to inform them all.

“Of course, you do!” Laurel scoffed while rolling her eyes, as she noticed Lucas and Klaus sharing a smile that made her feel very uneasy.

Laurel Lance had to deal with a lot since arriving on Earth Blood firstly the Mikaelson’s, then her twisted brother, then the Mikaelson’s and her brother only to then find out that baby brother of hers was actually her son before having to watch him meet a grizzly end but as she stood in the ruins of Rousseau's feeling the chemistry between Lucas Wayne and Klaus Mikaelson she had finally realized this was her all-time low.

The Black Canary was never a fan of the original hybrid, but she couldn’t argue with his weird sense of loyalty towards her son Lucas Lance even if it did confuse her she was happy someone was on his side especially considering she couldn’t be. However the Earth X doppelganger of her son Lucas Wayne was kind, honorable and loving, everything she believed Klaus Mikaelson wasn’t and the last thing she wanted was for the Blue Canary to end up just as bad if not worse than the Red Canary.

[camillemontespan]

unfiltered [drake walker interview/his POV]

@jovialyouthmusic​ @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore​ @pug-bitch​ @sirbeepsalot​ @emichelle​ @dcbbw​ @katedrakeohd​ @burnsoslow​ @ibldw-main​ @moonlightgem7​ @gardeningourmet​ @saivilo​ @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld​ @pedudley​ @notoriouscs​ @mskaneko​ @sawyeroakleyscowboyhat​ @sawyer0akleyscowboyhat​

                  ***************************************************

In total honesty, I said that I would never be interviewed by Duke Magazine again. A few months ago, I was interviewed by one of the their journalists who proceeded to insult me, make derogatory comments about my wife and generally just made me feel incredibly uncomfortable.

I walked out of the interview.

Bad idea? Probably. The following article was negative. But after speaking to my wife, who encouraged me to ride through it, I felt proud that I stood up for my family.

I swore I wouldn't appear in a page of Duke Magazine again. So what changed?

The editor, who I actually respect, contacted me to ask if I wanted to write my own piece. 'Write about you,' Matthew said. 'Write honestly. Show yourself to the world as you want to be seen.'

So here we go. I'm sat in my study, my daughter Lily is playing on the floor as she keeps me company, and I have an empty word document on my laptop ready to be written.

This is me. Unfiltered, unedited, me.

The Restraining Order

I guess I should start by writing about the restraining order I obtained against the paparazzi. This is, to date, the most controversial thing I have done during my occupation as the Duke of Valtoria.

I can't believe it's even seen as controversial so I'm going to explain why I did it. Maybe then the critics can finally agree that I did the right thing.

Everyone knows I'm a family man. I want to keep my wife and children safe and this was under threat one year ago.

Camille was being stalked on a daily basis. Photographers would chase after her on the street and surround her car, which understandably terrified her. Camille always tries to put a brave face on things but I often saw the exhausted look on her face. I would offer to do something but she would shrug and say, 'This comes with the territory of being a Duke and Duchess.'

I went along with that until one day, a photographer took a picture of my five year old in the school playground and that was it for me.

To actively stalk a five year old child - hell, any child - is disgusting.

We always said we would raise our kids to have normal upbringings. Yes, they experience privilege on another level but we make sure that Lily is brought up to see everyone as equals. We want her to have a normal childhood.

When her face was plastered on the front page of the Cordonian Herald, she looked at it and asked, 'Daddy, why am I on the newspaper?'

Damn right I called the newspaper and demanded that circulation of that issue stop. They laughed and said there was no point, it was already out. So, I went one better and contacted the best lawyer in Cordonia.

There was outrage. The paparazzi argued that as we are public figures, we should expect to be photographed.

Two words for that: fuck you.

We may be public figures but we did not sign up to be stalked. My daughters did not come into this world asking for that kind of attention. We are the best Duke and Duchess we can be, in regards to charities and making a difference. We work fucking hard. Despite that, we are not duty bound to let photographers take our pictures, especially when its through the railings of my daughter's school playground. I refuse to even entertain the idea that Lily should be forced to have her picture taken because of who her parents are. She's a kid.

I've had criticism from people who ask why we still take part in magazine interviews yet have a restraining order against the paparazzi. I can see why it can be misleading but genuinely, we only take part in interviews if we have something to promote, like my mental health charity Mind Over Matter. My children will never grace the pages of Duke, Trend, Vogue or any other magazine because that's not the life I want for them. Simple.

Does it seem like I'm ranting to you? Sorry. This subject just gets me really riled up. I would delete everything I have just written but as I said at the start, this is me unedited and unfiltered. If you don't want to read anymore, by all means, turn the page.

I never said I was polite.

Ugh okay, sorry again. My wife would say that this was me being sassy. Mr Sassy Pants. That's one nickname she calls me. Along with Marshmallow.. We'll unpack all that later.

Camille

I get a shit ton of questions about my wife. I get it, she’s gorgeous, who wouldn’t want to know about her, right? 

We’ve had our fair share of tabloid articles hinting at our ‘marriage being on the rocks’ or ‘trouble in paradise.’ Listen, don’t believe everything you read (apart from this piece obviously). 

Camille and I have had our challenges in the past but what married couple hasn’t? Through it all, we’re a team. We’re Drake and Camille.

Asking her to marry me remains the best decision I ever made. In the Drake Walker Hall of Fame, that will go down in history. I proposed with my grandmother’s ring which is this beautiful blue square topaz. Grammy always told me to keep it for the right girl. ‘The right girl,’ she would tell me, ‘is the one who makes you forget all of those girls that came before her. She will light up your life and make you see how amazing life would be by her side.’ 

She was so fucking right.

Apologies if you think I swear too much by the way. I’m trying to kerb it - I really am, my daughters are like sponges and repeat everything we say. I have a swear jar and more euro than I’d like to admit goes into it..

I asked Camille to marry me because she made me feel all of those things. I used to be the loner at court; the nobody. I stayed in the shadows and hated my life. All I wanted was for someone to see me. The real Drake Walker. I wanted someone to look at me and want to get to know me. 

Camille is the only woman who has done this.

I’m so proud of her. I think that’s a big deal, you know? You gotta feel proud of your partner. The way she learned about the nobility and Cordonia in such a short time is incredible. Looking at her now, when she’s so practiced at her speeches and so good with meeting the public, you wouldn’t think she was born a commoner. She has transcended all expectations. 

I’m also proud of her as a mom. She’s such a good mom! Camille has always wanted a family and seeing her with our girls makes me heart feel full. I watch her play with them, help Lily with homework and read them stories and I just count my lucky stars. I don’t know what I did in a previous life to have this amazing partner but I won’t question it. As I said, I just count my lucky stars.

Lily and Luna

My girls. They may have both inherited their mother’s looks but damn it, they got my smirk. 

Lily is five. She is the most colourful character and she’s mine. She is so girly. She often plays dress up and we watch her totter around the house in Camille’s high heels while carrying Camille’s handbag, shouting that she is going out for brunch. She is always laughing and she is a perfectionist; I’ve never met a kid her age who stays inside the lines when colouring in. 

She is loving, so loving. When we told her she was going to have a little sister, at first she wasn’t happy. Ohh boy. I think she was scared she would lose us as parents to this new human and I made it my mission to help her see that having a sister wasn’t going to take us away from her. I told her that they could be a little team. Afterwards, Lily sat up beside Camille and rested her head on the baby bump, waiting for kicks. When the baby kicked, Lily was delighted. That’s the thing - you got to talk to your kids like they’re people. Don’t treat them like they won’t understand. I sat her down and talked to her about something serious and she listened and understood. 

Now, she dotes on her baby sister. She always asks if she’s had enough milk. She will sit Luna on her lap while they watch Peppa Pig. Seeing her flourish in this role has been a joy to watch. I just hope that when they’re older they’ll keep being friends. I don’t think I could handle teenage screaming and doors slamming. Shudder. That’s something for Future Drake to worry about. Heh, sorry man.

Luna is one. She’s incredibly quiet, which at first was alarming as we were so used to Lily screaming non-stop as a baby, but when we thought about it, we were like: Having a quiet baby is the fucking best! 

She is so observant, constantly looking around with her big brown eyes. I always wish I could see what’s going on inside her head. What are you thinking about, baby girl?

Family Man

Duke may be my official title and job but really, husband and father is the role I love and put above everything else. I guess it’s still a novelty to me? I never imagined myself ever having a family of my own. I assumed I would die alone. I’m Chandler Bing from Friends: ‘I’M GONNA DIE ALONE!’ 

But I didn’t, clearly. So I think that constantly trying to keep my girls happy is just me loving our little unit. I never saw myself getting married and having babies, so I just stay in the moment, enjoying it. 

I take them on camping trips. I taught Lily how to make s’mores which she declared to be the best food she has ever tasted. I taught Camille how to pitch a tent (she’s a city girl, I had to keep reminding myself that). We’re yet to go camping with Luna but I figure wait a few years until it’s just easy. Baby steps.

One of my favourite things to do is take part in Lily’s tea parties. She puts a pink plastic tiara on my head and I sit down on the floor with my knees pulled up to my chest at her tiny tea table. If we’re pushing the boat out, we have actual chocolate milk in the tea cups.   Lily is a hostess like her mom. This is just training for when she holds dinner parties when she’s older and I hope I still get an invite. 

In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a marshmallow when it comes to my family. I know I come across a little grumpy to some people, but seriously, get to know me and I’m a bit of a softie. I love a dad joke (‘I must ask you a question but I shall shave it for later!’) and I do enjoy a romcom sometimes but Jesus, don’t tell Camille or she will constantly be forcing me to watch How To Lose A Guy in Ten Days. 

I’m the classic example of don’t judge a book by its cover. That’s the reason why I’m writing this piece. 

Mind Over Matter

Mind Over Matter started as my mental health campaign which aimed to promote men’s mental health. I wanted to tackle toxic masculinity and I became the figurehead of the campaign. I suffered from depression growing up, as a consequence of my father dying and both my mom and sister leaving without warning. I felt worthless. 

I even felt worthless when I became a Duke. Even though I was married to the most incredible woman and I had this new job, I felt like I didn’t deserve any of it. I doubted myself all the time. I constantly worried I was going to be found out. 

I drank to numb the crippling anxiety. 

Camille stuck with me throughout. She tried so hard to show that I was loved and that I was worthy of this life. 

Eventually, I got help for my drinking. I go to AA meetings once a week in a bid to keep on the straight and narrow. My family keeps me motivated. But I realised that if, this guy with an amazing family and job, could feel worthless, how many more guys are out there who feel the same?

So I started MOM to make a difference. Me, my fellow nobles and men from all over Cordonia meet once a month to take part in outdoor activities like hiking, abseiling, kayaking etc. While we do all this stuff, we talk openly. We talk about our fears and our worries then we get ready to abseil down a cliff. It forces you to place your initial fears in a box, unpack it then jump off the edge.  It’s mind over matter. That’s the whole point.  

We Vlog our activities so anyone can watch what we’re doing and donate to mental health organisations. Now, MOM is a registered charity too, which is crazy, so all proceeds go on to make it a bigger thing. I want it to be the main mental health charity for Cordonia.

Did I ever imagine its success? No. But I’m so fucking proud of what MOM - what I, actually- have accomplished. 

Friends

Magazines like to say that me and King Liam are no longer friends. Bullshit. We are. We just aren’t seen together as much because we’ve both got our own things going on. He’s the fucking King. I’m sorry but if I’m constantly wondering why he’s too busy to respond to my text message, then I need to get a grip. But I don’t do that because I’m his friend and we understand that no matter how much distance we have, everything will be exactly as it was when we next see each other.

I’m really good friends with Liam’s older brother, Leo. You wouldn’t think we would be because we’re so different but he’s a good guy. He’s fun and he has been a huge supporter of Mind Over Matter. Outdoor activities are already his jam so the fact that one of his friends was trying to make a difference made him really get behind it. Hiking with Leo cemented our friendship. 

Leo goes out with Olivia Nevrakis. She is my kid’s godmother and despite how it looks on my Instagram, Olivia and I do get on! Best way to describe it is we have that kind of friendship where you act like you really want to stab each other but if one of you killed someone, the other would be there with a shovel saying, ‘Right, where do you want the body?’

Not that Olivia or I have ever killed someone. I mean, I know I haven’t but Olivia is known to love her daggers so I wouldn’t put it past her. LOVE YOU, LIV!

Future Plans

I’m content with having two children for now but hey, maybe in the future.. Never say never. 

I plan on taking my girls to Texas to see my mom for Christmas. We usually spend all summer in Texas but this year, I’m hoping for an American Christmas. It’s just not the same in Cordonia. We’ve got our little traditions here but it would be nice to make some new ones with my mom. 

Camille is going to be promoting a rehabilitation centre for addicts in the city centre next month and I will be supporting her the whole time. I’m her biggest cheerleader and she’s mine. This won’t be any different. 

I’m excited. I have never felt so content before. A lot can happen in five years. Here’s to the next five. I’ll raise a glass of whiskey to future moments and welcome them with open arms. 

This was me, unedited, unfiltered. I hope I didn’t bore you to tears or make you realise that I’m an asshole who swears too much. Sorry about that. I’ll pop a euro in the swear for ya. But by writing this piece, I hope I’ve shed light on who I actually am, not what some journalist with an agenda thinks of me. I’m not the best guy in the world and I will never claim to be. But I’m human and everyone has their own flaws. The best we can do is just work on them and be proud of who we are, no matter what. 

Got to submit this now. Lily’s getting restless which means endless episodes of Peppa Pig now. You know what? This makes me happy.

[badbookreviewclub]

Empress Theresa, Chapters 11-20

Disclaimer: This contains spoilers. If you haven’t read the previous post you can find Chapters 5-10 here. 

Yay! After a while, the next Review of Empress Theresa is finally here! I hope that you all enjoy because I sure as fuck didn’t. These chapters have some pretty fucked up logic, and Theresa does some pretty fucked up things (nothing worth a trigger warning). As such, I plan on having this review of these chapters be a bit more well researched than other chapters solely because I’m bored in quarantine, having gotten my assignments for my classes done early and I feel like fucking Norman Boutin’s logic up. This is the second to last review I’ll be posting for Empress Theresa (aside from a possible final one with a wrap up of feelings and thoughts I wasn’t able to express in these reviews). Like I’ve mentioned before I’ve got a few other books in the line-up to read and get through afterward. I doubt I’ll be doing much more in this style (considering how bizarrely long Empress Theresa is), though I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Remember, if you have any books you want me to review, shoot me a message! I’ll look into them as soon as I can or let you know if that one is already on the shelf and waiting! But enough procrastinating, on with the chapters!

Chapter 11 

Despite the fact that last chapter, Theresa went on a week-long vacation to France and Ireland (which if I remember right, I grew very heated about), this chapter it has been nearly a month since that trip and Theresa is already growing “depressed” from the “oppressive work” she’s being “forced to do”. So she takes another trip, this time by herself. She heads to a small village and basically parties with the people there. After the party, she heads back to start working and we finally learn what Theresa’s code is. It’s a substitution code, basically. Now I’m not good at code, I’ve never taken any training in it, but I’ve been told that it’s a substitution code. “The code was triplets made of three characters: AB2, AB3, AB4, CAA, DBB, and so on. Only I knew the code. It couldn’t be broken by all the intelligence agencies in the world because they represented actions and locations, not words. Besides that, I threw in some useless dummy parameters to confuse anybody looking over my shoulder. To pound the final nail in the coffin, I randomly surrounded the parameter codes with tiny circles, squares, rectangles, and arrows that meant nothing” (pg 189). Now I may not know how to break code myself, but that sounds like it would be pretty fucking easy to break into anyways. Aside from that, we learn that Theresa is basically just going to end up using a chessboard or wire twisted and pinned to pieces of plywood to ‘target’ or ‘tag’ things so HAL can follow them. I’m still not quite sure how that works, but I guess HAL can really only work with three dimensions, so it works with this three-dimensional code and applies it to something? Fuck if I know. But to test HAL’s abilities she raises a pointless 10-foot-wide column of water off the Gloucester coast. It went up at 200 miles an hour, which is 3 miles a minute (which is pretty fucking fast, I would think). You’d think this would displace a lot of water, but I guess not. She repeats the same thing in the Pacific ocean but with six water columns, and instead of ten, they’re one hundred feet wide. In 45 minutes they reached 150 miles (which is still 3 miles a minute, so at least Norman is consistent on that front). And then, at 150 miles in thE FUCKING AIR SHE JUST LETS THE SHIT AT THE TOP FREE FALL. Apparently, the impact of the atmosphere just turns that shit into steam. 

Steve suggests that he should go to the UN to give the program that Theresa is working off of (I think), to quell the world’s fears and anxiety. Theresa agrees but only because “This might have been a little grandstanding on Steve’s part, but that was forgivable. This could be his last chance to hold the spotlight” (pg 194). Theresa constantly says that she doesn’t want to hold the spotlight, yet she constantly brings up that nobody will get the spotlight but her, and she never seems upset about it. Even later on, when someone in parliament stands up to question her, she gets pissed off because they took the spotlight from her. They spoke out against her and she becomes a toddler and throws a big fucking fit about it. Theresa says she doesn’t want to be in the spotlight and that she doesn’t like it, but her actions sure as fuck don’t show that. Chapter 12 

North Korea is launching a missile at the water towers. For what purpose? I don’t fucking know. It says later on in the chapter that by doing this they think that they’re destroying HAL, and as such, will economically destroy everyone when the huge tsunamis hit the coastlines. I don’t know how they know that Theresa is sending HAL out there to control the water columns, but I guess she is? The problem is she’s not sending all of HAL out to control the column. She can still do other shit with it, so I have no idea what the logic is in this chapter. She’s also controlling his actions with a chessboard because I guess the plywood and metal wire was boring as shit. We also learn that everybody is fucking terrified of Theresa. “In other words, everybody was afraid of what I would do next” (pg 202). Which is followed shortly by, “Don’t piss me off!” (pg 202). Theresa clearly enjoys that people are scared of her. She gets a kick out of it because it puts her as the one in control and nobody can do jack shit about it. The entire world is terrified of her, and for some reason, Theresa loves that. Theresa is a fucking monster, and that point will only be proven even more later on! Nobody knows what Theresa will do next, because she was going to raise the water columns up in the thousands around the world, but she can’t do that anymore. So instead, she clears out a giant fucking area in the North Pole, and she’s going to raise up water columns there. The first thing she does is create splash barriers so tsunamis can’t come out and kill everybody, and I guess those work just fine. Theresa is able to easily raise these splash barriers because “The Arctic Ocean was only half a mile deep which made this piling up of rock easier for me to do then it would be in the three mile deep Atlantic” (pg 204). First of all, this is really wrong. It takes a really quick and easy Google search to realize that the Arctic isn’t necessarily half a mile deep. At its deepest, it’s 3.4 miles. Sure, where Theresa could be doing this, it may only be half a mile deep, but that would be fucking stupid and wouldn’t give her nearly enough water for what she plans to do. At the Atlantic, at its deepest, is 5.3 miles. Once again, a quick and easy Google search proves Norman wrong. 

But, besides this faulty logic, we get even more bad logic. Theresa raises four water columns in the North Pole at 1,000 feet each. For reference, the International Space Station on most given days is only ~250 miles from the Earth’s surface. I know 1,000 miles seems really impressive, but it’s just really impractical. The water (now ice) would be so far out of the influence of earth’s gravitational pull that it would just orbit around the Earth, not come crashing back down. Please, feel free to correct me if I’m wrong about this. I’m just a history major, not a physics major. 

Chapter 13 Theresa uses a chessboard to raise up 56 columns of water in the North Pole. Because of the amount of water that’s rising up (5,012 miles exactly) which you know, goes out nearly as far and further than most satellites. Space technically starts at 62 miles above the earth’s surface (average sea level, I think), so Theresa has giant fucking columns so far from earth that there is no way in fuck that they’ll be able to fall back down to earth (source). Yet somehow, these columns can still come crashing down and throw water back into the atmosphere which causes it to rain. And when the water comes crashing back down to earth, it’s akin to “eight million tons of TNT every second” (pg 213). So you know, Theresa has just effectively ruined the North Pole forever and ever and ever. The largest atomic bomb ever detonated by the United States, Castle/Bravo, let off the energy force of about 15 tons of tnt. This was a singular explosion, Theresa’s explosions are happening every. Single. second. (source)

But aside from this devastation to a really important ecosystem on Earth, it created rain. Nearly 100 inches a year, everywhere, for as long as the water columns are active. Theresa has flooded the earth. The earth’s average rainfall is about 39 inches a year (source). There are obvious exceptions, like the Amazon Rainforest, which can get 100-200 inches of rain per year, depending on the area (source). This means the entire world is essentially going to drown because of how much rain Theresa just gave them. Wait to go, Theresa, you just “saved” everyone. 

Oh but that isn’t it, to put a sweet little cherry on top, Theresa decides that she needs to tilt the earth so it’s straight up and down and the earth no longer has a tilt to it. This effectively rids the world of seasons, making it summer all year round so people can grow crops all year round (hint: you really can’t do that). There are plenty of crops that grow in summer, but Theresa effectively wiped out all seasonal crops, so way to fucking go, Theresa. Not to mention that because there will be no more snow or winter because she doesn’t think we need it, there goes the entire industry having to do with skiing and snowboarding. There also goes most places supplies of water. In the region that I live, we rely really heavily on having enough snow during the winter times so that when spring comes around and the snow starts to melt off of the mountains it will run down and our reservoirs will be filled again. Then we don’t have to be concerned about not having enough water for the summer and fall months. There are also areas in my state where it’s harder to get water to, so people have to put out basins on their property to collect snow so it melts and they have enough to water crops, yards, and sometimes, even just so their water bills don’t absolutely skyrocket. So thanks for sending people into poverty too, Theresa. Oh wait? She doesn’t care? She donates a tiny portion of her trillions later on to the world poor fund as we learn later on. How generous and benevolent of you Theresa. However shall we repay this debt that we owe you? 

Chapter 14

In this world, rather than Theresa having killed off the entire population of the earth, she just saved everyone. How wonderful and heroic of her. Everyone is celebrating her and who she is. Norman decided that it was absolutely important to add into just how the Chinese were celebrating her too, “They were holding my photograph in their hands and yelling Tah-ee-sah! Tah-ee-sah!” (pg 219). I don’t know about you all, but that seems pretty racist to me because Norman had to specifically include that. He didn’t talk about how everyone was chanting her name, nor point out how it was being pronounced. He specifically did this with China. 

Anyways, besides supposedly being in hiding and nobody being able to find her, she has to leave the Parker estate because they expect half a million people to visit the house by the day’s end and can’t have her there. So you know, guess she wasn’t all that well in hiding. Because she leaves though, Theresa decides that she needs to go to Parliament to talk and put her two cents out there. We also find out that she’s not a public speaker in the most brilliant way, “‘I’m not a public speaker. I never wanted to be. I’m talking to the media and the people on the street. Excuse this little piece of paper. It reminds me of the points I’ve been thinking of a long time’” (pg 222). Does this remind anyone of the familiar little phrase ‘Show don’t tell’? There are better ways to introduce that she’s not a public speaker, like stuttering over herself, fidgeting, not looking at the audience, mumbling and then speaking too loud. The microphone could peak because she’s not used to using one, she could knock something over out of nervousness. We could see her fidgeting with the notecard. Norman doesn’t do any of this because he has no idea how to show and not tell us exactly what’s going on.

Nonetheless, she continues on with a long and boring speech just saying that she doesn’t want to be mobbed in public. Someone in the House stands up though and asks why she’s there, which is a perfectly reasonable question. Theresa doesn’t see it this way, however. “I could single him out because he had stood up when he said that. I suppose it was a House rule. I stared at him with no attempt to hide my contempt. How dare he interrupt me! In answer to his own question, why had he spoken if not to attract attention to himself? This hypocrisy had to become plain to everyone as I stared his political career into oblivion. “‘You interrupted me” I said. “Nobody interrupts me. I don’t need you’” (pg 223). I thought you didn’t want attention, Theresa? I thought you just wanted to be treated like everyone else? I thought you weren’t special. Not to mention she says it’s hypocritical. The man did absolutely nothing to be hypocritical. Theresa is so unaware that it’s painful and it makes me angry. She follows this up by claiming that there’s a new sheriff in town (hint: it’s her). Yet she continues with the notion that she doesn’t want attention. :) :) :) :) :) :) :):):):): ): ): ): ): ): ): ): ): I fucking hate this book

We find out what happened to Jan. Apparently despite the fact that she could say she was working with the government, she’s been unemployed because the ‘eight-year gap’ in her resume made her unemployable. This is just bullshit. She obviously worked for the government, there are records of her working for the government, she had a supervisor. Not to mention, an eight-year gap doesn’t make someone unemployable. I’m sorry, but it just doesn’t. But Theresa sends a message out on the ‘All Theresa All the Time’ channel to let Jan know that she’s not angry at her and wants to meet with her. So you know, Despite the fact that there’s a channel dedicated to her on TV, one that she obviously uses, she definitely doesn’t want the attention and wants to be treated like a normal person. Definitely. Fuck you Theresa. 

Chapter 15 

I had to walk away and watch YouTube for a few hours but I’m back, and somewhat more relaxed again. So let’s get started on chapter 15. Essentially because of thermal expansion, because Theresa fucked up the entire earth and its tilt, they expect that the oceans will rise two or three feet in a year. Norman also says that parts of the ocean are 3 miles deep, as if that’s the deepest part of the ocean, but the deepest parts of the ocean are 7 miles (Challengers Deep, the deepest part of the ocean, is ~7 miles down) (sorry for saying ‘deep’ and ‘deepest’ so much). The solution? Lift a lot of cubic miles of water out of the oceans and yeet them out of the earth never to return. Brilliant. Because of all the rain they have to find protective headgear as well so they don’t get soaked. Theresa and Co. (Steve and Prime Minister Blair) get traditional American Firefighter helmets. These are such a slam hit to see everyone wearing that companies start making fake knock-offs so people can be like Theresa. They also decide to travel around the world to take a break. Their break is so rudely interrupted because the wind is slowly returning, and that will cause massive and destructive hurricanes that the world just can’t afford to deal with. We also find out that the earth hasn’t completely lost its declination. It’s 5 degrees now, which you know, is so much better than 0. Theresa is such an amazing person though for not wanting to right the word again because the Asians can’t afford to go through winter, and if they went through winter they would lose half a billion people. Because you know, it isn’t like all of this isn’t her fault in the first place and this whole thing could have been avoided if Theresa hadn’t cherry-picked problems to solve in the first place. 

Chapter 16

Theresa spends the whole night crying. I’m so sad for her :(:(:(:(:(:(::) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) Steve decides to fix this. And the way he fixes this? They need to go and grab elements from the sun and bring them down to earth to stop the hurricanes. The elements that they grab? Xenon, and per the request of the British military, helium. After a month of attempting this, Xenon now accounts for two ounces of atmospheric pressure. Xenon is an inert noble gas that’s traditionally used in lighting. Xenon is also classified as an asphyxiant. Inhalation in excessive conditions can cause dizziness, nausea, vomiting, and loss of consciousness. “The first symptoms produced by a simple asphyxiant are rapid respirations and air hunger. Mental alertness is diminished and muscular coordination is impaired. Later judgment becomes faulty and all sensations are depressed. Emotional instability often results and fatigue occurs rapidly. As the asphyxia progresses, there may be nausea and vomiting, prostration and loss of consciousness, and finally convulsions, deep coma and death” (source). A concentration of 75% Xenon inhaled can be fatal in minutes. All Theresa is using it for is to cool the air because xenon has a cooling effect on the environment. However, in the process, she is also killing all the asthmatics and people with other respiratory conditions. Congratulations, Theresa. She’s probably killing more people than that too, because she’s putting a fuck ton of helium into the atmosphere and air. The atmosphere, after a month, became 10% helium. It’s true that at the current time, we are having a helium shortage, but considering that Norman claims this is a million times what our current atmosphere’s helium content is, that seems like it’s a terrible idea. An increase in the helium in our atmosphere increases the atmospheric pressure. This isn’t a terrible thing and not everybody dies, but asthmatics and people with other respiratory issues are sure as fuck going to have a terrible time. 

She also fucks up the gravity of the entire solar system by taking Europa, one of Jupiter’s moons, and making it orbit around Mars. Do I even need to explain why this is a bad idea? Why fucking up the gravitational orbit of the solar system is the absolute worst idea I have ever fucking seen? 

Then she goes and crashes the entire economy and puts the world into a global depression by flooding the market with gold and silver. They claim it’s a monetary stabilizer, and sure, it is, if you want your money to be stabilized at like .02. This has absolutely no consequence on anything or anyone in Theresa land though, which is fucking stupid and so unrealistic. Norman tries to paint this book like it’s realistic and something that people could actually work with, but you really can’t. At the disclaimer at the very end of the book, the only thing that he says isn’t realistic is the way that President Martin acted (wanting to blow up Theresa).  Anyways, Theresa hires Jan as her financial manager (because that makes sense, and Jan definitely has experience with finances [she doesn’t]). And the chapter is ended off with “I wonder what my old BC boyfriend Jack Koster was thinking of all this!” (pg 253). Was all of this just to get back at Jack? What the fuck Theresa? Why? I thought you were happily married to Steve? So why the fuck are you thinking of Jack? I’m so confused. Chapter 17 

God I am so fucking close to being finished with this review and then I can finish the fucking book, write the final review, and be out and never think of this fucking book again. This chapter though, oh god this chapter is something else. Theresa is a horrible human being in this chapter and honestly is akin to a monster in this chapter. So all of the people who held stocks in Gold Bullion have just lost all of their money thanks to Theresa (see, she has sent people into poverty, wiping out their retirement funds, college funds for their kids, et...c). As such, they’re filing a class-action lawsuit against Theresa, headed by Connie McKesson. Reasonable, right? They’re asking for 35 billion dollars in damages which I guess is far less from what she’ll get in her gold sales. Someone claims that Theresa may spend most of her life in courts (which makes sense). 

Theresa gets pissed at Steve because the idea to get the gold was his idea so she storms upstairs and leaves him downstairs. Mrs. Parker comes up and reassures Theresa that nobody is to blame when couples have problems, “The world is to blame” (page 256). So now she makes up with Steve. Despite that Norman claiming that there’s no swearing in the book, Steve says “We’ll get this lawyer bitch” (page 257). Even though Connie is just doing her job, Steve and Theresa come after her without relent. They find out where she is and stalk her. HAL targets and tags Connie, and they follow her home from her workplace. She lives in a single-family home, and apparently this is something that’s funny to Steve and Theresa, like it’s a bad thing. They confirm that Connie has two little children and yet they’re still absolutely awful and mean to her. Despite the fact that she’s just trying to do her job, and earlier they stated that the people who were filing the suit would just go to another law firm, Theresa still goes after Connie. “Any vehicle she entered would not move. I wasn’t going to allow her to go anywhere except on foot” (page 261). She does this for the other eight (male) lawyers in Connie’s firm as well. Apparently, this is somehow better because “The crybaby media couldn’t say I was making it hard for mommies to take care of their kids as they said about Connie McKesson” (page 262). More than that, I don’t think Norman thought about single fathers or families who rely on the men to be the primary breadwinner in the household. This is 2020, yes, but there are still plenty of families where men are the primary breadwinners. She’s keeping people from being able to go to their jobs, to make money, to support their families. She’s forcing them to do whatever the fuck she wants because she’s mad that they have to do their jobs. 

And if they had a medical emergency, Theresa would have to look them over to confirm that they weren’t buffing, otherwise they couldn’t go anywhere at all unless it was on foot. However, you can’t always know someone has a medical emergency just from first glance (e.g. like an exploding appendix). It’s cruel and disheartening. What if one of their children had a medical emergency? What then? What if they needed to get across town quickly because a family member was in an accident or had an emergency? Theresa said she wouldn’t let them take any transport aside from walking unless she deemed that they could. And nobody can do jack shit about this. Why? Because although everybody knows it’s her, there’s no physical evidence that it is. “So! I could do anything I wanted to anybody and nobody would dare do anything about it! I kind of liked that” (pg 262). How horrible is Theresa? She can do whatever the fuck she wants, she can ruin peoples lives, crash economies, kill people, and so long as she does it with HAL, nobody can do shit against her. Not to mention all of this was so unnecessary. Everybody knew that Theresa would win the suit anyway, so why the fuck did she feel the need to go to all this effort? Why the fuck would she be willing to ruin their lives until they dropped the suit? It’s cruel and it’s inhumane. When they finally drop the lawsuit she lets them go so they could finally travel in ways other than via foot. “Don’t mess around with Empress Theresa” (pg 263). 

They decide that they can use this grounding trick with terrorists too. Because you know, not being able to use a vehicle will definitely stop a terrorist. Definitely. But in Theresa-land it will. Though by targeting these terrorists with the grounding trick (despite a million better ways that she could target terrorists with HAL), she apparently is setting a target on her back, but she’s going through with it anyways. We get another line that absolutely proves just how horrible of a person I think Theresa is and how little empathy she has, more specifically, how little empathy or care I think Norman Boutin has. “The Parkers made no effort to hide their disappointment. Their darling Theresa was more important to them than nameless bombing victims” (pg 265).  What if it was your family? Your mother, your brother, your sister, your father, your cousin, your aunt, your uncle, your grandparent? What if it was your friend? Your best friend? What if it was you? Just because you don’t know them doesn’t mean that other people didn’t. For someone that was their family member. That was their friend, their best friend. That wasn’t just a nameless bombing victim. That was a person.

Chapter 18

Once again I had to get up and walk away and do something else for a little bit. But I’m back now and somewhat more ready to keep writing, so let’s just keep trudging on, I guess. 

The news is filled with stories of terrorists being grounded, Theresa brags about how she could have killed the lawyers if she wanted to. The US decides to mint silver coins with Theresa’s face on them because she’s just that fucking important. One again she brings up Jack, which is completely and utterly pointless. I don’t know at this point if she’s still in love with Jack or if she loves Steve because she brings up Jack so fucking often it seems. 

We meet the main bad guy of the next few chapters, I guess. OPEC, or the Organization of Petroleum Exporting Countries. And rather than delving into this, Theresa just fucking moving on and straight to meeting President Stinson, the new president of the United States for the first time. Theresa brings Prime Minister Blair along as a representative for the rest of the world (because the Prime Minister of England can totally do that). All they talk about though is OPEC, and apparently how OPEC thinks that “they can make you cave in and turn you into a slave. That will give them the power they always wanted” (pg 272). I’m still not really sure where this came out of considering that OPEC held absolutely no role before and Theresa had never shown an interest in petroleum. Now, however, I guess she does. I guess it’s because she’s going to bring carbon into the atmosphere to try and beat them (she never does as far as I’ve read in the book). I guess they quickly scrap that idea though because now Theresa is going to bring land up to the surface so they can have an entire petroleum mining business from the ocean floor. It would be hers though because you know, it’s not like another country would be able to lay claim to it, but whatever. 

President Stinson also goes to Congress so they can make it so Theresa can’t be sued because she definitely needs that power too and fuck you, you can’t lay a single fucking finger on our perfect little Theresa. 

OPEC and Theresa have had like 0 contact up until this point, but they come out on TV with their demands “We seek justice on the world stage. If it is not given to us we will take it. We demand the operation known as grounding to be removed from all freedom fighters [terrorists, according to Theresa]…. We demand that Theresa Hartley put ten billion dollars every month into a fund for the world’s poor. We demand the land known to the West as Israel be returned to the people who lived there before 1947. If these demands are not met we will sell no oil to the United States or the European Union” (pg 276). Yeah, so turns out, Theresa wasn’t even fucking donating to the world’s poor all along, let alone out of her own volition. We’ve learned at this point that she has fucking trillions in the bank and yet she can’t be fucked to donate to people. The money is still rolling in for her and yet she can’t donate to anyone. Also, OPEC isn’t associated with terrorists as far as I know? If I’m wrong please correct me, but it seems more like the terrorists attack OPEC more than not. 

But apparently these demands are too outrageous for Theresa and send her to tears. Despite the fact that you know, apparently none of this was a problem before (especially on the oil part). But we’re supposed to pity Theresa here. I’ll let you in on a secret, I really don’t pity Theresa. In fact, I really hate her guts and I hope those assassins do finally come after her and kill her :) Theresa moves on anyways, not willing to give into OPEC’s demands and picks a rectangle near the arctic where she’s going to pull up a bunch of land to mine for petroleum on. She doesn’t do that just yet though because she has to go and meet with Prime Minister Scherzer (the prime minister of Israel). She gives him two options, Plan A is that they move the entire fucking country of Israel and stick it smack damn in the Mediterranean between Italy and Greece. Prime Minister Scherzer doesn’t like this so they move on to Plan B, where Theresa just raises an entire island for them all to live on. Originally it was going to the in the shape of the Star of David, though Sherzer points out this is kind of unconventional, so he changes it and it’s really fucking complicated and basically a bunch of islands with harbors to protect it. Theresa also agrees that she can just move Jerusalem to the island without a fucking hassle.  

Then we come back to the island that Theresa is raising to mine petroleum from and to sell at $20 a barrel, which is anywhere from ~4-10 dollars below the general crude price of oil as of today (4/7/2020) (source) And because they’re still worried about assassins, this time coming after the Israeli people while they’re moving across the land bridge that Theresa will be making as a temporary way to get to the island she’s creating for them, Theresa decides that the best way to avoid it is to make 24-hour sunlight. Fucking Wonderful. That definitely won’t fuck shit up. 

Chapter 19 

I am so fucking close. I just want to be done. I fucking hate Theresa so much. I hate this stupid fucking book and its terrible logic. Theresa basically starts blowing up an area where she wants to raise the ground to make her giant oil mining operation and predicably the world freaks the fuck out. Theresa blows the hole so deep in the ocean that it should be in the earth’s mantle, but somehow it fucking isn’t. Oh well, I guess. Theresa also just decides in this chapter that she’s fine being a god among men. “How quickly people forgot my benevolence when fear took control of them!” (pg 292). “It wouldn’t do to have the World Empress blow her top” (pg 293). She also seems to forget everything that she’s done to attack the lawyers who were just trying to do their job by refusing to let them go anywhere unless it was by foot, “I’m still waiting for an apology for the attempt on my life, but I haven’t done anything to anybody, have I?” (pg 293). 

People are pretty upset she’s just ripping up the ocean and the ground and not telling anybody about what she’s doing, which is understandable. England sets up tanks and Gatling guns (for the drones) and soldiers with rifles to shoot anyone who gets close because I guess people are just so upset about what Theresa is doing in the middle of the Arctic ocean. And the reason why she’s making this giant rectangle so deep is for the overflow of the ocean when she raises up that giant fucking piece of land so she can make companies mine oil for her. Theresa also brings a fuck ton of carbon to earth and compresses it into diamonds so she can make a giant diamond ring that will reflect the sunlight and give the earth 24-hour sun. Apparently, people are super fucking pumped about this. That honestly just sounds like hell to me. I can’t even be bothered right now to research why that’s a terrible fucking idea and would throw so many people and things off and would just ruin everything. 

Chapter 20

Theresa has to meet with ‘a Saudia Arabian’ instead of OPEC, which she’s pretty fucking upset about. “It didn’t matter to me what his name was. And to be honest, what he had to say didn’t matter much to me either unless he was prepared to give up all his demands” (pg 313). So this man is a representative of OPEC, but apparently that’s still not good enough for Theresa because she’s a childish brat who needs to have whatever the fuck she wants or else the rest of the world is going to suffer for it. Way to write a super relatable and lovable character, Norman. Anyways, Theresa meets with this man in Geneva, Switzerland, where they have a Swiss representative for the government or military, or something, there. Not to be a mediator or anything, but just to throw herself in the way in case they start throwing knives because that’s definitely going to happen. Anyways, Theresa basically says if they drop their demands she’ll make all the countries in the middle east more like Europe, with mountains and rain and forest and without the deserts. So essentially, Theresa is willing to destroy an entire VERY IMPORTANT ECOSYSTEM. All just so she doesn’t have to deal with OPEC anymore. Wonderful. Fucking. Wonderful. And we’re supposed to believe that Theresa isn’t a horrible person? Anyways, after the meeting where nothing is resolved or agreed on, Theresa, I guess, has already lifted the island for the Israeli people. She starts making the landbridge so they can get to it, which you know, is fuckin mint. She then sends up her diamond ring to give the world 24-hour daylight, and people were super happy about it. Which is so fucking stupid and unrealistic. So much shit would get fucked up. 

Apparently crime rates drop because of it, which I have a hard time believe considering that a lot of crimes happen in daylight, specifically when people are at work (break-ins). 

And to end off the chapter, the Exxon Maria, the petroleum boat that’s carrying the petroleum from the mining operation happening on the island that Theresa was making blows the fuck up after a 55-foot long ‘fishing’ boat rams into it. 

This entire book is just… something else. And I hate it. Get fucked Theresa. Chapter 21-28 will be the last review for this book, and then I can move on with my life. I hate this book so much. So, so fucking much. It’s so terrible and you don’t even know it until you try and read it yourself. Until then, I hope that you enjoyed this review. 

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 229: The Real Me

Previously on BnHA: Dabi fought a dude who could control ice. For like three pages. Then we cut to my boy Twice, who had located an unconscious Toga (who as you recall had her blood blown up a couple chapters back, so yeah) and was understandably freaking out about how to get her some help. To make a long and somewhat confusing story short, you know that long-haired guy who hacked Giran’s phone? Turns out he has the power to create human puppets or some shit, and he created a bunch of Twice duplicates and sent them to capture the real Twice (who you might also recall has some traumatic history involving clones of himself). Seems they want to use Twice’s quirk to create a backup clone of Re-Destro, just in case history repeats himself and he ends up kicking the bucket like his great-great granddad. Wouldn’t that be sad. Re-Destro getting murdered. Wouldn’t that just be a darn shame. Anyways so let’s see where this leads.

Today on BnHA: The Villain Flashback Arc continues with today’s installment featuring, you guessed it, more villain flashbacks! We learn more about our little buddy Twice who was apparently orphaned as a young teen and subsequently found himself alone in a cold and uncaring world. Honestly you guys, after reading this I’m amazed that he’s still as nice of a guy as he is. Anyway, so he used his quirk to clone himself because he was lonely, and the clones and him engaged in a petty crime spree or two, and then somehow or other it all led to the whole murderfest that fucked up his head so badly. Back in the present, a struggling Jin tries to escape and help Toga, so Skeptic orders his puppets to break Jin’s arms. They do so, but this has a curious side-effect that Skeptic may not have been expecting. Namely, that having that much damage dealt to him makes Twice realize that he definitely is not one of his clones, and is in fact the real deal. This appears to at least temporarily cure his split personality woes, and the chapter ends with him creating about a dozen duplicates to go fuck up the Liberation Army’s day. Hell yes.

(All comments are my unspoiled reactions from my initial readthrough of the chapter. I did a quick edit for grammar and clarity immediately afterward, but aside from that there are no changes.)

hey guys, sorry I’ve been inactive all week; I’ve been sick and haven’t really had much energy. I still am sick, but I appear to have reached the stage of exhaustion where I’m all “eh, fuck it, yeah sure whatever” where it’s ironically easy to motivate myself to do stuff because I have no willpower to resist, lol

so anyway. we’re apparently not missing a beat, picking up right where we left off last week with Twice’s mask being pulled off by one of the gorilla puppets

wow and they’re just like. flinging him aside

DON’T FLING MY BOY NO!! AND GET AWAY FROM TOGA

AHHHH

shit, how creepy is that? are they cold because they’re just ~puppets~ and not actually real, living people? what a disturbing touch

now we’re cutting back to Skeptic, who’s giving the puppets orders and addressing them as various letters of the alphabet. how can he tell them the fuck apart

meanwhile Giran’s asking what they’re doing to his pal. ;_; Giran you continue to be the best

and Re-Destro’s forcibly directing his attention elsewhere, but he’s also answering his question, strangely enough

that’s a lot of detail to be giving the guy when you could have just smacked him and told him to shut up. these villains are so confusing

but I guess they’re just telling him all this to taunt him more, because now Skeptic is bragging that he learned about Jin’s psychological disorder from Giran’s client data

hey btw I don’t think I’ve said this yet, but fuck this guy so hard for taking advantage of Twice’s trauma and using it against him. what a shocker, the Meta Liberation Army of dickheads pulls another dickhead move. these guys are so classy

oh my fucking god you guys Giran is getting hotter with each fucking chapter though fffffffff

if you’d told me a month ago that this dude would be nipping at Aizawa and All Might’s heels for the title of BnHA’s most eligible bachelor I would have called you a liar and a thief, yet here we are. good lord

that said, I appreciate that he’s thinking about how hard it’ll be on poor Twice, but they also just said they’d kill Toga as well, so I imagine that part of it would be pretty hard on her too. just saying

SDLFKSDLFHK SPEAKING OF

FUCK ME YOU GUYS I ALMOST LEAPED TO MY FUCKING FEET, WHAT THE FUCK. DON’T TELL ME THEY’RE GOING TO SNAP HER NECK. HOLY SHIT

SOMEONE BETTER SAVE HER OR I’M GOING TO FLY OUT TO JAPAN AND GIVE HORIKOSHI MY STUPID COLD. THAT’LL SHOW THAT BASTARD. HAVE SOME BRONCHITIS YOU PIECE OF SHIT

AND TWICE IS WATCHING ALL PANICKED AND SCREAMING THAT HE’S GOING TO KILL HER

AT FIRST I WAS CONFUSED AND WAS LIKE, DOES HE BLAME HIMSELF FOR GETTING HER IN THIS SITUATION? BUT THEN I REMEMBERED THE CLONES AND THAT YEAH IT’S LITERALLY HIM KILLING HER THOUGH OMGGGGG

AHHH HE’S SO CONFUSED THIS IS SO CONFUSING

I’M TOO SICK TO DEAL WITH TWICE’S EXISTENTIAL CRISIS YOU GUYS, IT’S REALLY FREAKING ME OUT, HELP. THE FUCKING PANELS ARE ALL WOBBLY-LINED AND THEY KEEP ZOOMING IN ON HIS FACE AND SHOWING HIM ALL BUG-EYED SCREAMING “WHO AM I” OVER AND OVER AGAIN OH GOD

OH SHIT!?!?

ACTUAL TWICE FLASHBACKS OH SHIT?! I was not expecting this oh snap. I am so into this

anyway, so he’s thinking -- with surprising coherence -- that because of his rough appearance, people were always afraid of him growing up

but also, what was that part about him not having a family? so he was an orphan then?? Horikoshi you are aware that I already love Twice and am emotionally attached to him, yes? but like if you want to hit me with even more feels and fuck me up some more then be my guest I suppose?

anyway so whoever he’s talking to here says Jin, who is apparently sixteen here, evidently hit some dude with his motorcycle by accident. oh shit

and baby!Jin says the guy jumped out in front of him and he was obeying the speed limit and everything

and the man he’s talking to seems vaguely sympathetic but says that regardless, it’s usually the victim who ends up winning these cases, and that Jin may end up with a criminal record. “but don’t let it get to you.” oh, sure. yeah, let’s just look on the bright side here

he says that no matter how many times you stumble in life, you can always start over

well shit is it any wonder this kid ended up going the villain route and making a bunch of clones of himself to live his best life? I mean jeez, he had absolutely no one on his side and was slapped with a criminal record when he was only sixteen. that shit is rough

oh fuck me and it just keeps getting worse

well that’s nice. so make that homeless with a criminal record, then. jesus christ he was still just a kid

so apparently his parents died in a villain attack when he was in middle school, and he had no relatives. I guess the state didn’t give a fuck either, damn

I find it extraordinarily easy to empathize with, actually! that’s one of the things that makes you such a great character!

so I guess he originally ended up making a clone of himself just because he was lonely. okay wow. not only does Twice continue to be the most likable villain in the series, he’s working his way up there as one of the most likable and relatably human characters, period

look at this shit! he’s just a guy who had a run of bad luck and tried his best to cope with it in whatever ways he could. there’s nothing villainous about him, he was just someone whom nobody wanted. he had his entire future stolen out from under him in the blink of an eye and had nowhere else to turn. he just wanted some friends for fuck’s sake

and so then he and his merry band committed a bunch of petty crimes. but they just needed some cash so they could live! like, all he wanted to do was just chill out and be happy. I got your back Twice. it’s not your fault

and then the flashback just kind of cuts to him tied to the chair in the aftermath of the clone hunger games. so I guess that’s all the backstory we’re getting as far as that goes. ngl I would have really liked to see just a bit more of the lead-up to that specific event. he’s such a nice guy that it’s a bit hard to picture him just suddenly going “RAWR I’M GONNA MURDER ALL Y’ALL.” but what I’m thinking is that all of the tragedy in his past contributed to him forming his violent alter ego personality, and that one of the clones must have just snapped one day and the rest is history

anyway so now we’re cutting to his first meeting with my new boyfriend Giran

ah okay, so he’s scared because if he actually is one of the clones then just a tiny bit of damage would be enough to finally do him in

btw Giran, possibly the one good thing Re-Destro and his buds did was getting rid of that scarf and sunglasses though bud. if you decide to change up your look after all of this, I’m not going to complain. there’s a reason I thought you were just some douchebag this whole time. obviously I shouldn’t have been so quick to judge you, I realize that now of course

but seriously Giran who wears sunglasses at night indoors. I mean, idk, maybe you get migraines or something. but if not I’m just saying

regardless, questionable fashion choices aside, Giran is actually a super nice guy, a mensch if you will, and he is now casually changing Twice’s entire life in the span of a few sentences. awww

how the fuck were you planning on smoking that cigarette while wearing a paper bag over your face. ??

also, Giran on this page kinda reminds me of Sanji, if Sanji was, like, a beatnik about to throw down on open mic poetry night

anyway so that’s the end of our happy flashback, and now we’re back in the present with Twice resuming his freakout!

but in spite of his mental struggles, he’s shaking the puppet clones off and trying to dash toward Toga again omg!

up in his little tower Skeptic seems fairly surprised

in related news, fuck this guy so much. also he’s using one of his puppets as a chair, which is one of the creepiest touches Horikoshi has put in this manga to date. but also they mentioned last week that Skeptic makes the puppets out of any human-sized materials that happen to be lying around, so I kind of wonder if maybe this dude originally was a chair. the mysteries of BnHA

moving on though, yeah, Twice and Toga really do have a strong bond though, don’t they? their chemistry is as beautiful as it is strange

oh shit but they really did hit him though

FUCK YOU F AND G

FFFFF SON OF A BITCH

DLASFKJLKJ PLEASE DON’T YOU FUCKING PSYCHOPATH, I CAN’T WAIT FOR YOU TO FUCKING DIE YOU ASSHOLE!!!

motherfucker! and we just established that he’s afraid that a broken bone will be enough to kill him if it turns out he really is a clone!

-- holy shit, but. on the other hand, if it doesn’t kill him though, that just might be enough to cure him of that particular fear once and for all. oh shit, unexpected plot twist

though in this particular situation it probably won’t make much of a difference how sane he is if he’s still got two broken arms though fuuuuuuuck

anyway... gotta click to the next page... even though I really don’t want to, sob

aaaaaaaand they’ve broken them. well shit. at least it wasn’t graphic. he’s just hunching forward and screaming and his arms are facing the wrong way, fuck

and now Skeptic is all “your legs are next,” and uh, can Twice actually hear him, though?? like, what? did I miss something here? is he piping his voice in through the shed’s convenient sound system or something?

anyway he’s telling Twice not to struggle anymore, and Twice is muttering to himself all darkly about how much that hurt

and apparently Toga’s regained consciousness now!!

wow Skeptic, okay sure, go ahead and keep talking about how you’re about to kill Toga in front of his eyes. just keep on digging yourself deeper. it’s like he doesn’t realize there’s only one page left in the chapter and things are just about reaching a tipping point and our heroes (?! I mean they are, though, for this arc at any rate) have had just about enough of his bullshit

lol I can’t take the tension omg

please do something badass please do something badass please d --

oh snap

Twiiiiiiice ;_; so it’s like I thought. they unexpectedly cured you of your identity crisis angst

anyway I guess this chapter is a longer one than usual because it’s page 15 now and we’re still going! so I will now resume my “please do something badass” chant. c’mon Twice. kick some assssssss

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS

THIS TIME I REALLY DID LEAP OUT OF MY CHAIR OMG. BOIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

LMAO ARE ALL OF THEIR ARMS BROKEN TOO. FUCK IT, IT DOESN’T MATTER. DEKU HAS SPENT APPROXIMATELY HALF THE MANGA WITH BROKEN ARMS AND IT’S NEVER STOPPED HIM*

*forest angst aside. and anyways that all worked out in the end, so

“wounded heroes are the most dangerous.” well fuck. given that we’ve just seen an exhausted and delirious Shigaraki eradicate an entire wave of people, and a bloodied and wounded Toga straight up murder one of the Army’s leaders, I think it’s safe to say we can apply this statement to villains too. and I for one can’t wait how dangerous a wounded -- but now sane -- Twice can be. motherfucker how I am loving this glorious arc

[incomprehensiblelentils]

I did not get around to this yesterday but, a short selection of fictional things that meant a lot to me over the last decade! ...it is going under a cut bc it is Too Long sorry lmao.

Books

Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng: this book came out in September 2017 and I have read it four times already. It’s the kind of book I want to write but I’m not sure I’m clever enough to: every event and every character is so purposeful and you won’t catch everything the first time through. Every time I reread it I find something new to marvel at. I hope the Hulu series is half as good

Everything I Never Told You by Celeste Ng: this was the first piece of fiction I ever found with a family with a Chinese father and a white mother. This family is a lot less functional than my family, but I've read this three times because that means the world to me. 

Ash by Malinda Lo: I discovered this in 2011 and it was the first f/f novel I ever read, and as I would later learn, one of a handful with a happy ending at the time, particularly in YA fiction. For a long time, I reread it every time I felt hopeless. I just reread it again last month and it is still as beautiful and meaningful to me as in 2011.

Girls of Paper and Fire by Natasha Ngan: This is an Asian-inspired fantasy (becoming more common now, but still irritatingly rare) written by a queer Asian woman, with f/f. I think it is only the second one of these, after Ash? It is frustratingly rare, anyway. The worldbuilding is incredible also.

The Astonishing Color of After by Emily X.R. Pan: We are getting more stories about biracial Asians, but they are still pretty rare and I treasure every one. This one felt so real to me.

The Miseducation of Cameron Post by Emily M. Danforth: The first half of this book captures so beautifully what it’s like growing up queer in a religious environment when you don’t even have the words or self-awareness to know what you’re feeling. This was another one I read over and over again when I was feeling low.

The Scorpio Races by Maggie Stiefvater: this is just a book for horse girls. I don’t know how else to describe this lol. I also feel like the romance is super downplayed until the very end, and honestly barely feels like a romance to me, so that’s refreshing!

Movies:

Pacific Rim (2013): I remember having this weird feeling when asked to give my top 3 movies once in high school, like maybe my favorite movie hadn’t come out yet so I couldn’t answer properly. I was right; this is the movie I was waiting for. This is my favorite movie. The feelings this movie gives me is the standard I hold all movies to.

Terminator: Dark Fate (2019): but Megan, didn’t this just come out? Yes, and it’s my other favorite movie now. I love (almost) every second of this movie. This movie made me feel a way that I thought maybe I might never feel again, after a certain other franchise movie this year took a dump on my heart. I don’t care that we’re never getting a sequel, we got this and that’s enough for me.

Thor (2011): Those of you who have been around awhile know that I really love this movie. I loved it before we all jumped on the Thor train after Ragnarok and I will continue to love it probably my whole life. It just makes me happy.

Aquaman (2018): This is Thor but underwater and with a biracial hero. It made me cry in the theater and I do not want to hear any negative opinions about it, I find them personally wounding.

Belle (2013): The fact that Gugu Mbatha-Raw isn’t a superstar is tragic, and this movie is gorgeous and lovely and made me feel a lot of things as a biracial person.

Mad Max Fury Road (2015): I remember seeing the trailer for this in the theater and going “yikes that looks like a thing I would never watch.” Joke’s on you, past me!!!! I find this a deeply stressful but glorious film that I can only watch like, once or twice a year.

Scott Pilgrim vs. the World (2010): I do not need or want to hear about how this movie is Problematic, I know all of its issues, and yet. It brings me joy and it was one of the first movies I saw when I was just starting to break out of my religious upbringing and I laugh until I cry every time I watch it.

Star Wars: The Force Awakens (2015): I am starting to realize that I am not and never really was a Star Wars Fan, which is to say that like...I love this movie specifically, I love the characters, I love the interactions, I love the stuff that happens. I do not so much love Star Wars as a whole? I like it fine! But this movie is the only part of the franchise to really make me go “oh, I get it.”

Professor Marston and the Wonder Women (2017): This was a weird little movie that nobody saw and nobody talked about, but I adore it because it’s so gentle and romantic. I don’t know how accurate it is to history and frankly I do not really care.

Big Hero 6 (2014): are you tired of me mentioning I’m biracial yet? This movie has biracial protagonists and a cute squishy robot and no romance and superhero stuff and I love it so much.

F8: The Fate of the Furious (2017): I went to go see this on a whim with my wife and it was one of the most joyous theater experiences of my life. I don’t know, I just love everything about it.

TV shows:

Community: This only kind of counts because it started in 2009 but I started it mid-s2 so eh. Seasons 1-3 of this show are written on my heart, I can quote a ridiculous amount of dialogue from them and these characters will stay with me forever. Warts and all, this is my show.

Dollhouse: Another technicality but like, I met my wife because we both loved Bennett Halverson so I gotta put this on here. It’s pretty significantly affected my life! Also I find that it holds up fairly well, if you’re down for the admittedly iffy premise and an ending that’s a bit of a mess narratively due to sudden cancellation.

Agents of SHIELD: I would never claim that this show is “good” but I do think that it has mostly figured out what the hell it’s doing. And it has been a pretty significant part of my fandom life for the last 6 years, so to leave it off this list would feel wrong. It gave me Daisy Johnson, first canon biracial superhero as played by a biracial actor, and for that i will always be grateful.

Warehouse 13: I could not tell you why I fell so deeply in love with this dumb, badly written show that shit the bed in the final episode more spectacularly than I could have imagined, and yet I did! I think probably it is because I love found family so much, and also I find goofy camp charming more often than not. And of course, there is Bering and Wells, the femslash ship that fandom forgot. I will never be over how no one knows what we have suffered!!!!!

Runaways: wow was this a surprise! The Runaways comic is my favorite comic besides Marjorie Liu’s X-23 run, and this show has basically nothing to do with it, and normally that would piss me off but they got my kids’ personalities down so well and all of the actors are so perfect that I really can’t complain. And also, this show has canon f/f and neither of them die at the end! Which is...better than some other shows I could mention!

Doctor Who series 1 and 5: I had a very intense Doctor Who phase in college, and after all was said and done and I quit the show for a time, I realized that although I love a lot of the characters, and Thirteen’s run is pretty good so far, what I really loved was Nine’s run and Eleven’s first season. That is the show at its best to me. Eccleston is my Doctor and Amy is my favorite companion.

Legends of Tomorrow: Look, I am as shocked as anyone that this, the scrappy underdog of the DCTV lineup, is the one that’s most emotionally competent and has the best character arcs! But here we are. Season 4 was some of my favorite TV I’ve seen, uh, ever.

Albums

Dirty Computer by Janelle Monae: I listened to this for basically a year straight after it came out. It’s just ridiculously good.

Something Fierce by Marian Call: This was my on-repeat album in college. i drew a lot of strength from it, and I think that it’s still the best album to recommend to people who ask me about her.

Standing Stones by Marian Call: I heard most of these songs live at concerts before they were quite done yet, so it was really special to get to hear them all collected together like this. I’m going to get a tattoo with a lyric from one of these songs because no one’s quite been able to put my basic philosophy into words quite like Marian.

Heartthrob by Tegan and Sara: Hot Take, I know, because a lot of people hate this album, but it was so affirming to go out and buy A Lesbian Album from A Lesbian Band in 2013.

The Rent movie soundtrack: I know, I KNOW, but in my defense, my parents got me this for my birthday my first year of college and I needed it so desperately. I can definitely still do “La Vie Boheme” from the beginning and probably most of the other songs too.

In the Heights OBCR: I can only listen to this when I want to cry, but it’s my favorite musical. I got to see the show in 2018 and it was incredible. I think it’s better than Hamilton and I can’t wait for the movie to come out.

Trouble by Natalia Kills: this album is really great and also it says fuck a lot, which I used to be very nervous about hearing or saying, and this helped immensely!

[ignisloquitur]

main characters → aurora olsen, hope olsen, auntie may. mentions → aurora, hope, auntie may, doctors, hospital, cane monroe. location → new orleans time frame → 16th june, 2008, hope was five, 16th of june is her birthday, a day before aurora’s on the 17th. warnings → child illness, hospitals, cpr, grief, distress. notes → hope suddenly takes ill at her 5th birthday party. tags → @colpodifulminex

“how do you like your party?” aurora crouched down to her sweet little girl, holding her arms open, engulfing her in a big cuddle. “i love it, mamma! you gave me the clown i asked for!” hope exclaimed, pulling back to look at aurora. “even though you don’t like them. you did it… for me?” hope asked, which prompted aurora to nod and laugh gently. “yeah, baby. for you. everything i do, it’s for you.” she felt a little emotional but she simply pressed a kiss to her daughters head and prompted her to go on and play with her little friends. aurora avoided the clown the best she could, clowns freaked her out, made her heart pound and her palms sweat, she was only enduring one being here because her child, of course, simply had to love them.

the day was a complete hit. all the mothers were loving watching their kids play whilst enjoying some cheeky tipples. aurora though, she was sober. given her history with drugs, ever since she knew she was pregnant she’d never touched them, nor had she let even a sip of beer pass her lips. she didn’t need it. didn’t want it. hope. her sweet, funny, amazing little girl, she was literally everything aurora needed. all she wanted, actually. it was a long-ass road she’d travelled, adapting, evolving, figuring out her best self. hell, figuring out who she was in general and most importantly, who she was without the man she thought would always be with her. cane monroe. love of her life. man who broke her heart. deep down, aurora knew, it would never matter how many years went by, he had created a fresh void in her heart that would never again be filled. her daughter, though, with her stunning features and her gorgeous eyes; his eyes… unmistakeable to aurora. damn. she loved those eyes. always had, always would.

the moms at the party were all older than her but they didn’t seem to mind, as in, aurora felt like they didn’t use her age as a reason to judge her ability to be a mom and the assurance that she was actually doing a good job was so nice to hear. she was chatting to one of the moms when a cold shiver hit her and shocked her body so much, she dropped the glass in her hands. smash. shattering glass echoed, aurora felt instantly sick. her face paled and she nearly fell to the floor; she would have if not for her aunt grabbing her from behind. “hope… hope.” rori whispered, fighting her way back to an upright position and twisting so she could see outside, so she could search for hope. “rori? sweetheart? she’s fine, see…” her aunt pointed, hope was stood near the bouncy castle with a couple friends, they were tossing a ball between each other. “oh.” aurora, still in a little daze, just nodded and let her aunt pull her onto a seat.

the couple moms she was with were watching her, concerned, their eyes fixated on her every move which only forced aurora to pretend it was fine. “i’m so sorry. i uh- i was up all night setting up and making the party bags, i’m just exhausted.” she laughed, the moms smiled, like they understood. but aurora was lying, when they looked away, she looked to her aunt and shook her head. “something feels wrong.” she whispered, hands shaking, blood heating. “i can’t describe it, it’s like..  it’s—-” aurora made her attempt at explain but was cut off by a blood-curdling screech. her head whipped around and she saw the tiny cluster of little children, screaming in sync, gathering, panicking. “hope…” the young witch flew off her seat and ran, they’d made an opening for her and she could see her baby on the ground, making herself drop to her knees the second she reached. “hope?” aurora squeaked.

hands on her little shoulders, hands on her cheeks, tapping, gently shaking, panicking… what the hell? “baby? hope? wake up. shit. jesus. auntie may, ring 911!” aurora yelled, mother mode setting in as she moved her fingers and checked for a pulse. nothing. fuck. fuck. don’t panic. check her chest. aurora tipped her head back and dropped her head to hover above her mouth, eyes watching for the little rise or fall of her chest. nothing. “oh my god. no, no no, no no no no.” throwing her head back up, everything around her became an echo - all she could focus on or see was her child. her baby. her little girl on the ground, not breathing. instincts had taken over, she’d done what she had to, to check for breath, then she checked for anything visible in her mouth, maybe she choked? nothing was there. next step, cpr. aurora remembered the class, she’d been taught this, one hand only, because of how small her body was. aurora began, pausing every thirty, giving her two breaths… repeat. until the paramedics arrived, only by the time they did, hope had a pulse. great news. but not out of the woods yet.

every single movement after that was one big blur, aurora barely remembered moving from the party, to the ambulance, to the hospital. seeing all those professionals crowding around her little girl, putting wires on her, yelling things she didn’t understand, weaving her through the corridor of the hospital. fuck. it was awful. in fact, if you asked aurora, even now, she would shiver, she would shake her head, she’d tell you it was the worst day of her entire life and she still cried about it sometimes… because that was the day. the day her daughter literally stopped breathing. no warning, no symptoms, nothing - and yet, she recalls that feeling she got a minute before the children screamed - that gut-wrenching instinct that literally made her legs turn to jelly, as though she fucking knew, something wasn’t right, something was about to go horribly wrong.

“please, what’s happening? what’s going on? what’s wrong with her?” aurora was absolutely hysterical, held up on her feet only by the will of her aunt’s arms around her. nobody was answering her, she was just watching them fuss and work on hope, who still laid there, breathing, but barely, she was pale, she looked so lifeless. in aurora’s motherly distress, the lights in the ward began to flicker and if it wasn’t for her aunt talking in her ear, aurora knew she’d have blown the whole place up, lights out, electric out. her aunt managed to calm her enough to start taking slow, deep breaths. she couldn’t let her powers blow the electric, not when literally everyone here relied on it to live. “sweetheart, breathe. she’s in good hands. you did so well, you saved her. yeah? rori, you saved her life, now you have to let these good doctors do the rest. let them find out what happened. let them fix it.” her aunt cooed as she cautiously began to guide aurora to a seat. at this point, the horror and shock were setting in, aurora felt as devastated as she did confused and numb. what the hell just happened to her baby girl?

waiting room. tests. scans. words of comfort from the nurses who checked in to update every chance they could. one big hazy blur. aurora wasn’t allowed to see hope yet, the doctor’s were busy. the couple of hours that took felt like days. finally. “you can see her. she’s stable.” a gentle voice sounded in the distance, drawing aurora back to reality as she instantly stood and moved to be guided to her daughter. the sight of her tiny little body in that huge bed, hooked up to machines, wires poking out of everywhere on her soft skin - the sight made her sob. she stumbled to her bedside, perched herself on the edge of the sponge mattress and placed a hand so delicately on hope’s chest. no words. no rational thought. just a sinking feeling in her chest and a worry that couldn’t be silenced. the doctor arrived, began to explain their findings in soft words and sentences so kindly simple, trying to help her and her aunt understand. “.. in her heart? what-what does that mean? for her, what does it mean? can you fix it? will she get better?” aurora spilt her questions in response to the doctor telling them that hope, had a hole in her heart. “she has to get better… you have to make her better.” aurora stood up from the bed and her eyes, all glassy and bloodshot, pleaded with this doctor to tell her he could fix it.

of course, it wasn’t that simple, but he did go on to explain that it wasn’t as uncommon as one might think. he gave them leaflets, sat with aurora for three whole hours after his shift finished and let her cry and question literally everything. aurora wanted to know the ins and outs of exactly what was going on and what to do from here on out. she learned that hope may end up needing surgery to repair her heart, but that also, she may not. that some people could live a perfectly normal life with this condition. they were going to keep hope in hospital for the foreseeable to properly assess any damage, to actually figure out how her heart was functioning, to discover whether or not the little olsen would have to undergo a surgery. and amongst all that, perhaps the most logical of questions were fired at aurora. family history. “no.” aurora shook her head. no was the answer to everything. on her side, there wasn’t a history of this, there wasn’t a history of any illness, condition or disease that she or her aunt knew of. which only meant one thing… cane. she needed to contact him. didn’t want to by any means, but had to. maybe there was something on his side that would help these doctors help her little girl… it wasn’t even a damn option, aurora would do it and just pray that cane had enough heart to give her the answers she needed for their baby.

no number, no location, they hadn’t spoken in just over five years… luckily, she was a witch. she knew how to use her powers to contact him. aurora had found herself in the waiting room, notepad and pen in hand, wondering how to write down what she needed to say. shit. how to word it? could she tell him what happened? did she want to? did he even deserve to fucking know that, today, their sweet little miracle that he hadn’t ever met, stopped breathing? she could barely see the page through her own tears and yet, her wrist flowed as the pen began to write. // she needs you. contact my aunt. // two three word sentences. scrunched paper, clasped hands, quiet chant and poof, sent - the note would land wherever cane was. aurora thought those words were enough. prayed to god they were. pleaded with her own mind to believe that he would realise, after five years, she would certainly not be contacting him if she didn’t absolutely have to, if she didn’t need him urgently. surely, he would know that. he would know exactly who’s handwriting it was, he would know ‘she’ meant their daughter and he would contact auntie may, so she could then ask him what was needed. – but that doubt crept in, that dreadful feeling in aurora’s gut that he literally couldn’t give a shit what was happening here, that he didn’t care, that he didn’t want to respond… that he never, ever loved her, so why would he love the baby they made? aurora had done her part, contacting him the only way she could, the rest was on him. of course, knowing of the medical conditions of his family would speed things up, if it was to be known that what hope had, was genetic - but it wasn’t absolutely needed. the doctor’s would and could work without knowing, which meant that if cane decided to not respond, they could still move forward with treatment. maybe if he didn’t respond, it meant he had nothing to tell them, so why bother… but aurora wasn’t sure what she would prefer, response or ignorance. what she did know, though, was that the only thing she cared about right now, was making her baby better.

[robertdowneyjjr]

any mcu (Tony centric) fic recs? xoxo

I wasn’t too sure if you were looking for any specific pairing or time period within the MCU, so I’ve sorted this list out into a few different pairings, and for stevetony’s case, uhhh several different ~eras~

This is mostly stevetony though. With some pepperony, irondad spiderson, and various other pairings sprinkled in. Under the cut, because this got ridiculously long.

Steve/Tony – CACW // IW

almeno tu nell'universo by @silkspectred50/50 Steve/Tony POV, but very much Tony-centric as it’s set in Italy, where Tony goes to discover some things about his mother’s past that he never knew about. Steve goes along with him in hopes of winning Tony’s forgiveness.

shelter from the storm by @silkspectredTony adopts a baby. Guess who’s Majorly Fucked Up™ about it.

A New Way For Us by ann2who (@stark-spangled-lovers)(Time travel) They fight Thanos—and they’re losing. And before Tony knows what’s happening, he’s standing with Doctor Strange in front of the Eye of Agamotto and gets send back in time. Can he find a way to fix things this time around, or are they doomed to fall apart all over again?

System ID: J.A.R.V.I.S. by @cptxrogersAfter Civil War, Tony is struggling with heading up the team and dealing with the emotional fallout of being betrayed by those closest to him. Luckily, an old friend is back to help protect Tony and ensure he comes to no harm. A Jarvis lives AU.

Leaving Promises Against Your Skin by @nostalgicatsea(Soulmates AU) “Someday, someone will choose you, Tony,” his mother had said, her hands back to cupping his. “And no one, not your father, not anyone, can ever take that from you.” (second in series but can be read as a standalone fic)

(Un)stuck by @navaanwritesHe finds himself in different places, living different lives. And yet it all comes back to Steve.

Things We Learned at the End of the World by JenTheSweetie1. Even the apocalypse can’t keep people away from Olive Garden2. Smoothies do not replace conversations3. Tony has really obvious sex hair4. Home might be a little different, but that doesn’t mean you can’t go back

between dust and despair (series) by @rudderless-in-an-ocean-of-starsIn the aftermath of the apocalypse, Tony Stark does the one thing he knows how to do better than anything else.He builds.

Steve/Tony – AOU // post-AOU

Language by @sailorchibiThis is how Tony fixed the team and the damage he’d done, and in the process learned how to start fixing himself. Well, maybe the latter might take a little help from Steve.

Fixer-Upper by @imafriendlydalekTony leads the way up the steps to the house, and as the door swings open with a long creaking sound - note to self: oil door hinges - Steve’s eyes widen. He steps inside, turns slowly on his own axis as he looks around.“Tony, this place, it’s…” There’s a sense of wonder in his voice. Tony smiles inwardly. It is just the kind of thing Steve would like. Steve, who has a keen appreciation for fine aesthetics, who has a healthy - okay, sometimes more than healthy - sense of history and an acute desire to preserve things he deems worthy.“This place is a dump.”Well, so much for that, then. Tony shifts his weight to one leg as he takes an appraising look. “It’s a bit of a fixer-upper, yeah, I’ll give you that, but it’s not past saving. Just needs some TLC.”Steve uncrosses his arms and shoves his hands in the pockets of his pants. “Well listen, you ever want an extra set of hands with some of the work, just give me a call.”

Caesura by @ylixiaTony’s gotten maybe twelve hours of sleep in the past four days, and he’s been carrying the deaths of everyone that matters to him like a rock in his gut.

The Path I Started by JayEz (@multifandom-madnesss)Tony rebuilds, modifies. Takes fragments and gives them new order. He does not create. He can’t, not anymore. Not after this. Or: After the events of Ultron, Tony rebuilds the tower by himself and shuts everything out to the point that Pepper takes desperate measures and asks Steve to come and help.

Steve/Tony – post-Avengers // canon divergence // pre-AOU

Master of Communication by somanyfeels (@aceofultron)Tony didn’t like being touched, on the rare occasions he wanted physical contact he would initiate it. It was how things were, how it had always been, and he was fine with it. His new team didn’t know, they just kept touching and Tony wasn’t quite sure how to ask them to stop.

Untitled Playlist Number 5 by dapperyklutzThe many times Tony Stark plays BAMF-ing music while the team fights their Baddie of the Week. And somehow, along the way, between sleepless nights, game nights, movie nights and saving the world every other week — plus looking out for his wayward protégé whom he cares for very deeply -— he falls head over heels in love for a certain super soldier.

Who’s Your Caterer? by Bandearg_Rois(Mainly Steve POV) After moving into the Tower, the group starts taking meals together. This is a story about food, and about love, not necessarily together. Also contains physics and old movies, not at the same time.

Run Program: {x} (series) by Amuly (@everybodyilovedies)Taking care of Tony is a lot of work. Especially when you’ve only got one arm. And your code dates back to the 1980s.

Best Kept Secret by @alchemyaliceIn which there is a secret friendship, and Tony can’t deal with feelings, so Natasha has to do it for him. These two features may or may not be related.

honey, you’re keeping me afloat by mmotionEvery so often, on evenings with nobody else, Tony and Natasha drink some wine together and talk about everything and anything.

five times tony stark was kissed by a teammate (and one time he kissed a teammate) by colourexplosionin which people kiss tony a lot and he doesn’t get it

grey and other colours by @theappleppielifestyle(Demisexual and Demiromatic Tony) Distantly, Tony hears Clint say something like, “No, I definitely heard he was an equal opportunist. Like, equal-equal, no preference. Hey Tones, who are you attracted to more, dudes or chicks?” He calls the last part out to Tony, who runs the words over in his mind and unthinkingly says, “I’ve actually never been attracted to anyone, it’s really worrying.”

Reasons Why (Whether They’re Real Or Not) by infinite_wonders (@thetwowriters)Tony is slow, has very little self-worth, and thinks that the universe hates him as much as he hates himself. Everyone else is long-suffering, especially Steve, because disproving that notion could take a while.

Beautiful, Beautiful, Beautiful, Beautiful Boy by mybrotherharry (@baffledkingcomposinghallelujah)The first time Jarvis holds little Anthony in his arms, he is overwhelmed by emotion that is surprising in its intensity. When little Anthony’s palm curves around his finger, Jarvis ducks his head to keep the others from seeing the wetness in his eyes. “Hello Master Anthony,” he whispers into the little ear, tugging the bundle of blankets closer to his heart.

Pepper/Tony and/or Iron Dad & Spider Son

call every girl we ever met maria by irnan“You’re telling me,” Rhodey said, gleeful, “you’re telling me that you’ve been shot, stabbed, sewn up, been riddled with shrapnel, had a magnet implanted in your chest, spent two years poisoning yourself with palladium, spent twenty years as a functioning alcoholic and had a vasectomy and you still managed to knock Pepper up?”

with arms wide open by @parkrstarkTony and Pepper are expecting a baby and Peter may be the one most excited…just maybe…

yet turning stay by irnan“Tony - you’re all I’ve got too, you know.”

The Right Thing in the Wrong Way by igrockspockPeople don’t ask why Pepper sticks by Tony as often as they should, and if they did, she probably wouldn’t tell them the truth:  that he’s never left her alone on the one day she actually needs him.

Twist of Fate by nikki_ofshadows (@karenninaaa)A single picture triggered Tony Stark to suspect that Peter Parker was his son, biologically.

i’m the satellite (and you’re the sky) by CamelotQueen (@missmgann)When Tony went to the Parker household to recruit Spider-Man, he had no idea what he was signing up for. AU where Tony is Peter’s biological father and neither of them know.

Welcome to the Family by FriendLey (@peppertoyourtony)Peter Parker spends time with Tony’s family. Happy is annoyed, Rhodey is amused, Pepper gets an assistant, and Tony feels betrayed.

The Publicity Verse by @xmypandabear A main of SpiderSon and IronDad with a side of social media and the internet (and healthy puddings of Pepper, Rhodey, Happy, Vision, FRIDAY, May, Ned and MJ) 

Exploding Head Syndrome by foolscapper(Mainly Peter) Everyone comes back, when the snap is undone. Or, well — almost everyone.

Gen + other relationships/pairings

Twenty-Five Years by @notfknapplicable(Tony/Rhodey) Nobody knows how long this has actually been going on. (Tony Stark has pretty much been in a monogamous relationship since he was 18 years old.)

The Years In Between by @notfknapplicable(Tony/Rhodey) A follow-up to Twenty-Five Years (best to read that one first). All the years we missed.This is it, okay? This is forever, you and me.

Sound of Madness by martianwahtney(Post-CACW, Tony/Rhodey) After the fight in Siberia, Steve takes Bucky and vanishes, leaving Tony to pick up the pieces. Tony does everything in his power to bring the Rogues home, and still, somehow, things go to shit.

Helpless in Love by Avengerz(Tony/Rhodey) Rhodey and Tony being together since their MIT years. They married as soon as they could, and are still hopelessly in love after ~30 years. One of these perfect, almost sickeningly sweet couples.

First Choice by @sailorchibi(StarkQuill) Two years ago, Tony’s heart was broken when Steve picked Bucky over him. Now, he was certain that the past was repeating itself with Peter and Gamora.He was wrong.

Placeholder by @sailorchibi(StarkQuill) In the days leading up to his birthday, all Tony could think about was last year. Last year, when he and the Avengers celebrated together. Last year, when he had a family. He’s not as alone as he thinks he is.

Paths Are Made by Walking by @potrix-the-queerschlaeger(WinterIron) The road to recovery is long, winding and a different one for every person walking it. Bucky chooses to help himself the only way he knows how; by doing what he does best. Or, alternatively; the one in which Tony is a mess and accidentally kick-starts Bucky’s protective mother hen instincts.

Scars by @arvensis5(WinterIron) When Tony tried to urge the homeless guy sleeping on the steps of the Tower’s loading dock to move, he never expected that he’d found Hydra’s pet assassin—James “Bucky” Barnes. Now, after months of keeping his presence a secret from the Avengers and helping Barnes learn to cope with both his returning memories and the modern world, Hydra is back for their favorite toy and Tony must call in old friends to save the life of the man he just might have come to care for a little too much.

potato guns and repulsers by gossamernotes (@brooklynboystosupersoldiers)(Tony & Harley) The story wherein Harley Keener thinks over his life and watches where it goes after he meets the one and only, Tony Stark. It doesn’t really go the way he planned.

Amend by ancalime8301(Post-CACW, Tony & team) Negotiating the Accords, dealing with Ross, the end of his relationship with Pepper, Steve’s faction coming back to the Avengers compound … the stress finally catches up with Tony in dramatic fashion. The team has to decide to step up and handle things while Tony can’t. Tony has to decide if he’ll let them.

That’s it for now! Let me know if you’d like more recs later :)