#his little ''thank you twilight'' is like. the most vulnerable he sounds in probably like the entire series. it makes me want to throw

[infizero]

randomly rewatching the mlp s4 finale is bad for my health is anyone else seeing this

[vintagegeekculture]

The Chinese Cultural Inspirations for Dragon Ball Z and Super

Journey to the West was only the beginning. 

A lot of people are vaguely aware that Dragon Ball was inspired by Chinese culture and Hong Kong Kung Fu movies and novels, but are unaware of how deep and long lasting it goes. The Japanese spent the 1980s fascinated by China, which opened up from being a closed society for decades in 1978; the most famous human being in Japan in the 80s was either Michael Jackson or Jackie Chan. 

In fact, a lot of people commonly believe that the Chinese action movie and Kung Fu novel cultural and media influence on Dragon Ball ended very early on. This is untrue. Sure, we started to see qipaos and cheongsams less frequently when they headed to West City, but it absolutely did not finish, because there’s tons of influence to see even as impossibly late as Dragon Ball Super. Interestingly, I don’t think any of these point of inspirations have been pointed out before, mainly because a lot of Chinese adventure novels are simply not available in English. 

 The Piccolo/Gohan plot was inspired by the Chinese action novel “Heavenly Sword and Dragon Sabre.”

Okay, tell me if you’ve heard this story before: a truly demonic, weird looking monster villain is defeated by a martial arts hero, but by circumstance, is forced into training his greatest enemy’s young son. The villain trains the young boy, the son of his enemy, in martial arts and over time, becomes like a second father or uncle to him and his family, putting the boy in his “evil” sect, and thanks to his love of his rival’s son, this baddie turns over a new leaf and goes from evil to just…grumpy, and becomes a loyal, though gruff, ally of the boy.

Of course, the events of Heavenly Sword and Dragon Sabre are a bit different from Dragon Ball in details. The Lion King becomes Wuji’s teacher because they are both stranded together on an island after a shipwreck, for instance, and he is blinded and made vulnerable. Also, the Lion King wasn’t so much evil so much as he was misunderstood by the orthodox martial world. However, in broad outlines, this trajectory for a face turn (becomes friends with his greatest enemy’s son, and becomes like a second father to him as he trains him, causing the villain to become a gruff good guy and ally) is essentially from one of the most famous Chinese novels ever written in the 1960s. 

Oh, and while we’re at it, Gohan is likewise inspired by another character from a Louis Cha novel: the Prince of Dali Duan Yu in the Kung Fu novel Demigods and Semi-Devils. The Prince in that novel is a naïve, pacifistic scholar who prefers books to fighting, and who was raised to be timid and avoid combat, absolutely out of step with his family, all of whom are martial artists and warriors. In fact, the beginning of the story is the prince gets incredibly lost in the wilderness, where the hopelessly naïve prince is utterly out of his depth, with all the robbers and scary beasts, and needs to be saved by real martial artists that protect him like fairy godparents. He spends the first part of the story running away from everything, scared as hell. However, by circumstance, he has naturally high power he cannot fully initially control, and eventually realizes that even scholars and others who hate fighting have to sometimes become fighters to protect those they love.

The Duan Yu part of Demigods and Semi-Devils was made into a film, the Battle Wizard, which was reviewed by PewDiePie. The Dragonball similarities went over his head because, honestly, PewDiePie does not strike me as a perceptive person. 

 Hit was based on the screen persona of Chow Yun Fat.

Chow Yun Fat was a Hong Kong cinema superstar who was to director John Woo what Robert de Niro was to Martin Scorsese. There are three giveaways that Hit was based on Chow Yun Fat. One, he’s an assassin, same as Chow Yun Fat’s character in the Killer, and is even given a sequence that’s a John Woo homage with an assassination in an office building with guns pulled on an empty elevator in an act of misdirection. Second, he’s wearing the single piece of clothing Chow Yun Fat is associated with, a black trenchcoat (fun fact: in Hong Kong today, trenchcoats are called Brother Mark Coats, after Chow Yun Fat’s character in John Woo’s A Better Tomorrow). Third, his power is essentially bullet time, a visual technique refined by John Woo in Hong Kong in the 80s and 90s in his gunplay triad movies starring Chow Yun Fat (what, you think the Wachowskis invented it?).

 The Goku/Vegeta relationship is from “Legend of the Condor Heroes.”

Here’s a story you might have heard before. It’s about two rivals, but by circumstance, one is raised in the wilderness beyond civilization, where he becomes an honest and goodhearted, though overly naive bumpkin, martial arts prodigy. The other is raised a wealthy prince by a conquering enemy, who grows up to also become an armor wearing martial arts expert, but also a cunning, arrogant, emotionally distant sociopath.

The similarities go into their love lives, too. The unsophisticated bumpkin hero is betrothed to a daughter of a powerful bearded barbarian king against his will, while the one hint of vulnerability and loss of emotional detachment in the otherwise sociopathic prince, the crack in his smirky arrogance, is that he loves a girl he otherwise pretends to hate, and even fathers a child with her who becomes a main character later.

This is Guo Jing and Yang Kang from Legend of the Condor Heroes. The most fascinating similarity, and proof that female psychology is the same all over the world, is that the fangirls love the emotionally distant, arrogant, and sexy/evil prince (remember when Rhonda Rousey said her first crush was Vegeta?). Girls everywhere love bad boys and sexy villains, and oh boy, do they love Prince Yang Kang. I think you can probably guess who all the fan art is about for Legend of the Condor Heroes, and what ship is the most popular.

I have to emphasize that Legend of the Condor Heroes, which came out in the 1950s-60s, is possibly the most widely read novel by the most widely read novelist on earth - the sales on that dwarf Twilight and Harry Potter. It’s probably not an exaggeration to say nearly every Chinese person, even if they never read it, knows who these characters are. In fact, Yang Kang and Guo Jing from Condor Heroes are basically repeated over and over in Asian, Chinese, and Japanese culture. Does the unsophisticated but gifted martial arts prodigy bumpkin hero, and the glib, arrogant wealthy prince rival remind you of….another duo of rivals?

Gohan/Videl comes from Little Dragon Maiden

One of the most important and influential Martial Arts novels of all time is “Return of the Condor Heroes.” A sequel to Condor Heroes, this time, the main character is the teenage son of one of the main characters from the first novel. It gets even more familiar from there.

“Return of the Condor Heroes” was about a martial arts couple who are also master and student, the same age but vastly different in experience and skill so one somehow seems “older,” and they fall in love because the circumstances of training together requires they spend lots of time together and become intimate. The training story and the love story are exactly the same in “Return of the Condor Heroes.” The dead giveaway one story inspired the other is that in both, the most significant training sequence is one where the master teaches the student how to fly (though Return used a chamber of sparrows for lightness Kung Fu).

There are some differences of course – obviously in Return of the Condor Heroes, the genders of teacher and student are flipped from Gohan and Videl (it’s the Little Dragon Maiden who is a powerful teacher, and the boy who is the student). It was the girl (Videl) who was a rebellious delinquent in Dragon Ball Z, when it was the opposite in the novel, true. But it was obvious this story was in the back of the creator’s mind as a way to combine Kung Fu with the love story, by making teacher and student lovers.

Addendum: hey, remember that awesome movie Kung Fu Hustle, the one Hong Kong movies normies have seen? Well, remember the landlord and landlady? The landlady was named Xiao Lung Nu, or Little Dragon Maiden, and her husband was named Yang Guo – the same as the main characters in Return of the Condor Heroes. It was a joke that went over the heads of Westerners, by giving these names of attractive and naïve young people in love with each other to a surly, bitter, arguing and chain smoking middle aged couple who don’t give a damn.

 Going Super Saiyan comes from “Reincarnated” aka “Bastard Swordsman.”

Stop me if this sounds familiar: a terrifying warlord tyrant prone to killing underlings who displease him has achieved a level of skill and cultivation so tremendous nobody can stop him. But there is one, and only one, thing he fears and that can defeat him: a long-lost legendary skill that nobody has achieved in recent memory, that includes a supernatural combat power transformation that turns the hair light to indicate it worked.

This is “Silkworm Skill” from Reincarnated aka Bastard Swordsman, a novel and TV series from Hong Kong in the early 1980s. Of course, there are differences. To get the power boost and new hair color, the hero has to jump in a cocoon he weaves himself. In fact, the scene is so well known that they actually have it on the poster.

(To those saying “Super Saiyan turns your hair blonde, not white” my response is that it turns hair white, or uncolored, in the comic book.)

The idea of your hair turning white to indicate a new supernatural combat transformation or martial state wasn’t created by Bastard Swordsman, though – though it is the best example and probably the one most familiar to a 1980s audience due to the hugely popular books and TV series. For an older example, a famous Chinese movie based on a folktale is “Bride With the White Hair,” about a bride who’s hair turns white when she is betrayed, in her anger, she becomes less a woman and more a supernatural creature of vengeance (interesting that anger should be the means to unlock it).

[erandir]

Fic: Tender

Finished and fixed up this old unfinished ficlet for @14daysdalovers

Prompt: A Tender Caress Pairing: Rowan Tabris/Zevran Arainai (pre-relationship) Rating: T Wordcount: 2016 Summary: Rowan returns from the Deep Roads in desperate need of some TLC and a nap. Zevran provides. Or: The boys caught feelings but are too dumb to realize it.

----------

There was absolutely no sense of time in the Deep Roads. Somehow Oghren seemed to have some concept of the passage of days. As much as days had existed in Orzammar, at least, which was only in a very vague sense. But for Rowan, it had all become one endless expanse of time. A sort of eternal, infuriating twilight. All he knew was that by the time Orzammar was back in sight he was tired, aching, and he never wanted to see the Deep Roads again for as long as he lived.

They staggered out into the marketplace to the great surprise of everyone present, including the guards at the door that had all but sealed them in. Rowan hadn’t looked in a mirror for the Maker only knew how long, but if his companions were anything to judge by - Oghren, Shale, and Morrigan - he probably looked like he’d bathed fully clothed in a pool of mud, blood, and ichor. Actually, that wasn’t far from the truth.

Probably he should have gone straight to the Assembly, but he thought that if he had to deal with dwarven nobility right now on top of everything else he wouldn’t be able to restrain the urge to murder everyone in the room. And that wasn’t conducive to army recruitment. But word of their return somehow crossed the city faster than they did themselves, because as he approached the inn Alistair was coming out to meet them.

“You’re back!” Alistair enthused, then he paused when their appearance finally registered. “You look terrible. Did you find Branka at least?”

“Oh boy did we,” Rowan said. That was going to take some explanation that he did not have the energy for at the moment. He clapped a hand on Alistair’s shoulder, and then pushed past him into the inn. “I’ll tell you all about it, but first I need a bath and the strongest drink this place has.” 

The drink came first. Something thick and brown that smelled strongly of dirt and burned like fire going down his throat. It sent him into a short coughing fit, which was eased by a friendly pat on the back and a familiar accented voice commenting, “The strength of the drink here is really its only good quality.”

Zevran was a sight for sore eyes. A very handsome sight for Rowan’s very tired and sore eyes. And one look at Rowan’s haggard face prompted Zevran to signal the bartender for another round.

“Thanks,” Rowan said, voice coming out in something of a rasp as his throat attempted to recover from the first drink. The second went down no easier, but he preferred that at the moment.

“You looked as though you needed it,” Zevran replied.

“How long were we down there?” Rowan asked. Oghren had guessed at the number of days, but without Orzammar’s clocks even he hadn’t been certain. And Rowan wasn’t sure he trusted the dwarf’s judgement fully.

“More than two weeks,” Zevran replied.

“Fuck,” Rowan breathed. That long? Or only that long? The expedition had felt both shorter and longer at the same time. He’d never expected it to take so long, either. 

Zevran hummed a sound of agreement. “I will not lie, some of us were beginning to wonder if you would ever return.”

Of those that had been left behind, Alistair and Leliana didn’t seem the type to despair, Wynne was probably pragmatic enough to know a lost cause when she saw one, but was two weeks long enough? That left only Zevran and the dog. “Some of us?”

Zevran favored him with a wan smile. Caught. “I’m very glad to be wrong, in this instance.”

“Glad you were, too,” Rowan agreed. He didn’t want to die in a hellhole like that, and shuddered at the idea that someday he might have no other choice. No, he didn’t want to think about that right now. He wanted another drink, but more than that he wanted to be clean. He pushed himself away from the bar, “I need a bath.”

He didn’t miss the way Zevran eyed him up and down, but without the usual heat behind his gaze. “You do,” he agreed, but not unkindly. “I think it will take some effort to clean up this mess, perhaps you would like some help?”

Rowan was surprised by the offer. He was filthy, and far too exhausted to do anything other than clean up and fall asleep. But he was exhausted, and Zevran had offered. “I wouldn’t say no.”

—————

Orzammar did not have baths large enough for Rowan to fit in comfortably. Still he sunk as deep into the water as he could, letting the warm water seep into the sore muscles of his arms and back. He must have looked slightly ridiculous when Zevran waltzed into the room. Only his head and knees above the water, pale skin mottled with bruises visible now that all the blood and filth was washing off.

Griffin trotted at Zevran’s side, tongue lolling from the side of his mouth and stubby tail wagging. He’d practically bowled Rowan over when he first arrived back at the room, but thankfully the Mabari’s excitement to have his master back had lessened in the past hour. 

“I’ve finally located something that claims to be soap,” Zevran announced triumphantly. 

Rowan managed an actual smile, though a small one. “Let’s have it, then,” he said, pushing himself into a proper seated position again and holding out a hand. 

Zevran produced an oblong lump of off-white lye soap. It wasn’t the prettiest thing in the world, but it would serve. As soon as the soap was in his hands, Rowan lathered up and began scrubbing at his hair, which hadn’t been free of its ponytail for at least two weeks. Almost immediately his fingers became caught in knots and mats that tugged painfully at his scalp. “Ow, shit,” he hissed, pulling his hands away delicately. “I might need a haircut.”

“No!” Zevran gasped in dismay. He knelt beside the bathtub and finally had a good look at the state of Rowan’s hair, then sighed sadly. “Ah, you have not been taking care of your lovely curls.”

“I was rather preoccupied,” Rowan told him. 

Zevran hummed softly, a sound equal parts agreement and consideration. “We may be able to save it,” he said, “But it will take some work. I’ll leave the decision with you.”

Rowan considered it. He’d had short hair before, in fact the only reason it was so long now was that he couldn’t be bothered to trim it while on the road. So he wasn’t emotionally attached to it or anything. But Zevran seemed fond of his copper ringlets when he let them down, and he’d grown rather fond of the compliments they earned him. “We can try,” he agreed eventually. “After I’ve bathed.”

“That seems wise,” Zevran agreed. “I’ll fetch my comb, and when you are clean, we will see if we can rescue your hair.”

Rowan only nodded and went back to washing himself as Zevran left once more. By the time the Crow returned he had finished scrubbing down most of his body and the bath water had turned dull reddish brown. He was still tired and sore, but he felt more alive than he had in days. He had just finished dressing when Zevran returned with more than just a comb in hand. He brandished also a brush and a pair of scissors, “In case we are not successful.”

 They settled cross-legged on the bed, Zevran behind him working the knots from his hair. It didn’t hurt as much as Rowan had expected. The assassin’s hands were surprisingly gentle, and the light tug on his scalp was somehow almost comforting.

He must have fallen asleep at some point, because Rowan was next aware of waking up on the too-hard, too-short dwarven bed, blankets tangled around his legs, and the light of only a single candle to illuminate the room. He couldn’t tell what time it was, and he was really beginning to hate the way every hour bled together down here. How could the dwarves stand it?

Zevran was gone. That wasn’t a surprise. They never slept together unless they had slept together. But Rowan surprised himself by feeling disappointed. Last night - was it night? - had been unexpectedly nice, even though they had been as chaste as Chantry sisters. It had been a long time since Rowan had allowed himself to let his guard down and be that vulnerable around anyone.

It was because of the Deep Roads, he told himself as he climbed out of bed. He’d been alone in the dark for too long, starved of touch and friendship and safety.

Griffin was asleep on the floor beside the bed. Properly passed out, paws twitching as he chased squirrels in his dreams. Rowan’s stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten in far too long - he’d given up on guessing at the passage of time - and he stepped carefully over the dog’s bulk. 

That’s when he noticed his armor. Before his bath, Rowan had left the leathers in a disheveled heap at the foot of the bed to be dealt with when he had the energy to do so. He knew they shouldn’t be left too long caked in filth or else risk damaging the leather irreparably, but they’d kept for 2 weeks, they would keep one day more. But now when he went to fetch his boots and something more substantial than his underclothes to get breakfast in, he discovered the armor had been moved. 

Each piece had been laid out across the room’s low stone table, and some of it had been cleaned already. His sword and offhand dagger were sitting atop their scabbards polished and, a quick test with his thumb confirmed, sharpened. The worst of the filth on his armor had been wiped off, with attention to the joints and rivets that risked rusting or weakening, but the leather itself was still in need of a good oiling before he had to face anyone important. His boots had been cleaned of caked on mud and then polished to a shine that almost disguised how old and beat up they were.

That sight alone was enough to tell Rowan who had gone to all this effort for him. Zevran. But why? This must have taken him hours, which gave Rowan and indication of how long he'd been asleep, but why would he go out of his way like this. A little bit of tidying up he might understand, but this was beyond that. And this was on top of everything Zevran had done for him before Rowan passed out. Passed out while having his hair brushed like a child. He would have expected Zevran to be annoyed, not to have tucked him into bed like an invalid and then spent the next few hours making sure his gear was in proper working order. 

It didn't make any sense. 

They'd slept together, yes, plenty of times. They were friends outside the bedroom, too. He even trusted Zevran with his life in a fight. But to have someone else take care of his weapons and armor was oddly intimate. 

Everything about the night before had been oddly intimate, he realized. Now that his brain was awake and properly rested he realized that Zevran’s behavior of the night before had been unusual. There was no way he could have expected Rowan capable of anything other than passing out immediately after getting clean. So it definitely hadn’t been innuendo when he’d offered his assistance. He’d just genuinely wanted to help? That seemed so out of character.

Rowan’s stomach chose that moment to remind him loudly of how empty it was. He shook thoughts of Zevran out of his head and reached for his boots. There would be plenty of time to puzzle out the Crow’s motives when he had food in his stomach and the political mess was finally dealt with. For now, he had work to do.

[sabraeal]

Root & Vine

The third fic but the fourth most popular pairing in my Holiday Rare Pair poll; I wanted to give myself more time to work on the Zen/Kihal fic (which now has gotten moved to January, so I don’t skimp on the quality). When it came time to pick out a concept for this pairing, this canon-compliant prequel fic won in a landslide! The events in this are meant to parallel some that happen in @bubblesthemonsterartist’s Dead Men Tell No Tales: Long Live the King, only from the view in Lilias

“Mother?”

The second prince hovers just outside the threshold, book tucked against his stomach like a shield. He’s ten-- only a month ago he’d been trotted out in front of all the peers before being tucked straight back into his nursery so the lords could get on with their drinking and dancing and plotting-- but he looks two years younger. The runt of the royal litter, baby fat still clinging to his jaws and cheeks the way he still clings to Her Majesty.

Her Majesty, who hasn’t stopped looking south since they arrived.

“Mother?” he tries again, voice lifting, like a pup trying to get attention from his dam.

The queen doesn’t stir, doesn’t even give a sign that she’s heard. Just keeps standing with her back to him, hands clutched to her chest. He might call it praying, if her eyes strayed anywhere but at the horizon.

Zakura clears his throat, pointed. “Your Majesty?”

Now that gets her. She startles, the long hem of her nightgown whirling around slippered heels. Her gowns run large nowadays; the shoulder slips before she can catch it, baring a flash of flesh carved from ivory, a delicate rounding over the bone--

And yellow mottled with a faded brown. There’s so much vulnerable skin to take in, but that’s what his eyes fix on. Days ago, it’d been purple. Misjudged an entry, she laughed, the carriage rattling beneath them. That was how she always was, his queen: beauty and grace and never finding the door on the first go.

“Zen.” The tension sags from her shoulders. “I didn’t--” her lips close over her words-- “do you need something, darling?”

“My stories.” His cheeks flush all the way back to his ears. “I mean...would you read to me? I’m going to bed.”

Slim fingers tangle in the lace at her neckline. “Oh, do you need...?”

“No!” The kid looks ready to melt into the stones themselves. “I can read them myself. It’s only...Izana sometimes would.”

“I...” Her breath rattles in her chest. “I suppose...”

“Let me,” Zakura says, jumping to his feet. The prince stares at him with rounded eyes, and oh, His Majesty’s get he might be, but there’s more than a little of his mother in that blue. “Been a long while since I’ve read a good yarn.”

“Oh, they’re just-- just children’s stories.” His boots shuffle bashfully in the hall. “Tales of knights and such. Nothing, er, interesting.”

“Come now, Highness.” He gives the kid a grin, the sort he’d give any of the other men in the guard, the kind that says you’re one of us. “Who loves tales about knights more than a knight himself? And I’ve heard you’ve got an eye for the best.”

“Well.” That small chest puffs up behind his book. “I have read quite a lot of them.”

Zakura hooks his hands on his hips. “There you go then.”

His Highness hesitates. “All right,” he says after a long moment, “As long as you don’t mind.”

“‘Course not.” He hazards a glance over his shoulder, and she’s right here, his queen, her grateful gaze ready to greet him. His place is ever at her side, but for now--

Well, her son is a part of her too. “It would be my pleasure, Highness.”

“I hath invited you into my home, dear sir, and you throw these sordid accusations at me?” the foul lord cried as he set down his cup. “Do you not expect me to seek satisfaction from you?”

“Nay, my lord,” proclaimed the valiant Sir Akihiko. “I thought you too cowardly to meet my blade, though I relish in the honor--”

Zakura scowls down at the page. “Are they going to duel?”

The second prince stares up at him with those wide, guileless eyes, the very mirror of Her Majesty’s, and says, “Of course they are.”

“But why?”

“The Lord of Montivale is a villain,” the kid explains with beleaguered patience. “And good must triumph over evil.”

“I’m not saying he can’t kill him.” There’s an illumination that half the page, all fancy maile borders and knights with sabatons that look like socks, every one of them holding a chalice. “But look, he’s right there, drinking with him. Why not slip some poison into his cup and suggest a toast?”

The prince sputters. “He can’t do that?”

“Why not? It’d be cleaner.”

“A villain must be slain through righteous combat,” he shrills, “not through-- though--”

“Being smart?”

Chubby childhood cheeks puff out in distress. “Trickery.”

“There’s no reason for it.” It’d be rude to laugh in the face of a kid who could, with a few convenient accidents, become king, so Zakura restrains himself to a muffled chuckle. “Learn this now, little prince: a man should always fight smarter, not harder. The best way to win a fight is to never pick up a sword to begin with.”

Flannel sleeves cross over the bedclothes, his chubby face twisted away in temper. “That’s not what my father says.”

A king has men to die for him, he doesn’t say. Not like a prince would get the distinction. “If Sir Akihiko had any brain beneath that helm, he’d have dropped some arsenic into Duke Montivale’s glass and ended this whole thing before it started.”

“No!”

Zakura heaves a sigh, settling against the headboard. “Listen-- what would have happened if Akihiko had lost?”

The prince blinks up at him with his mother’s eyes. “He can’t lose. He’s the finest knight in the realm. No one can beat him.”

“Right, right.” Children’s tales always liked to muddle the point. “But I mean, what if something happened? What if he tripped over an uneven stone? Or misjudged one of those stairs? What happens then?”

His little mouth works, wrapping around words he can’t quite dare to say. “Then...Duke Montivale...lives?”

“And now there’s no better knight to defeat him.” He leans down, meeting that kid’s wide-open gaze. “When someone has to go, you don’t rely on chance.”

The prince chews on that for a moment. “But a knight can’t just...poison someone.”

“Why not?”

“Poison,” the prince informs him with the sort of gravitas most councilors only achieve in their twilight years, “is a woman’s weapon.”

“Hah!” Zakura grunts, smile widening into a grin. “And what if the knight’s a woman?”

The royal mouth purses into a disapproving bud. “That’s not possible.”

“Not now,” he hums, “but who knows about later...?”

The kid stares at him, impassive. “I’m tired,” he declares. Tired of you, his tone implies. “You may leave.”

“As my liege wishes.” He levers himself to his feet with a groan. The other guards had warned him-- it was a tough life walking the walls, and the knees were always the first to go.

“Blow out the lamps.” Quieter, His Highness adds, “And thank you, sir.”

Zakura smiles into the dark. “Anytime, Highness.”

Her Majesty is still awake, right where he left her half an hour before, gaze fixed out toward the horizon.

“His Highness is tucked in.”

The queen of all of Clarines and Yuris jumps. Startles right out of her skin, collar pulling just so, a mottled yellow bruise blooming at the base of her neck, and, ah, he hasn’t seen that one before. It’s oblong, decently sized-- he could probably fit it under the pad of his thumb--

“Ah.” The sound pulls her lips roughly into the shape of a smile. “Good.”

He ranges into the room with a saunter, pausing to perch on the settee’s arm. “I don’t think I impressed him with my skills.”

She blinks. “Oh, ah-- your storytelling, you mean. He does like them to be told as they are. No embellishments.” Her mouth bends into a rueful curve. “He’s comforted by their regularity. By his ability to anticipate the events.”

“Eh.” He twitches his shoulders in a shrug. “One day he’ll learn life is all about the embellishments.”

“Ah, perhaps. But I think...” Her Majesty’s gaze drops to her hands. “Some of us prefer the steadiness.”

There’s a strangeness to the silence in these rooms. Her Majesty has never been one to fill the air with empty noise-- he likes that about her-- but when it’s just the two of them she always has an occupation. Stitching, sketching, writing letters to place he’s never seen; her hands are never idle, and her chatter always pleasant. Not enough to seem like an imposition, but enough so that he doesn’t feel like the furniture. Comfortable, that’s what it’s like with his queen.

But not tonight.

“Missing home?” he asks, when he can’t stand the quiet.

Her eyes dart to his, blinking wide. “Ah..?”

He nods toward the window. “You haven’t stopped looking since we got here. South.”

“Oh...no.” Her lips rub together. “Wistal had never been my home. I mean, not until the children.”

Her children, with only one who came with her. With one who chose to stay behind. It only makes sense; an heir should favor his sire.

Doesn’t mean he needs to think better of that little prick. Zakura likes to save is charity for people who can’t afford it. “Not to worry, Your Grace. I’m sure His Majesty has everything well in hand.”

He could swear he hears her murmur, that’s what I’m afraid of.

But it can’t be, not when barely a breath later she says, “I don’t miss it. To answer your question, sir.” Her fingers clench in her nightgown. “It’s...important that I’m here.”

Now that’s a strange way to look at a holiday. “I guess it’s always good to take a rest.”

“Ah...” It’s half a laugh, half a sigh. “Yes. A rest. A respite.”

Zakura clears his throat as he watches the candles melt into wax caves. “May I ask what you’re thinking about, Majesty?”

Her breath rattles in the silence. “Gardening.”

“I think I’ll be up a long while yet.”

Zakura sways on his feet, blinking up at her with bleary eyes. Ah, a rookie move, nearly falling asleep on the job.

Her Majesty only smiles at him, kind. “You should get to sleep, sir. A young man needs his rest.”

“No, no.” he shakes his head. “I’m supposed to watch over you, Majesty. Can’t do that if I’m laying down.”

Her mouth bends into the barest frown. “I’ll be up a long time...”

He pushes himself off the wall, and comes to sit by her, the chill from the glass seeping into his clothes. “Then I’ll stay up with you. As long as you like.”

She stares at him a long moment, her eyes as dark as the night itself, and nods. “Thank you, sir.”

He offers her the softest smile a rough mouth like his can make. “I’m your man, Majesty. I always will be.”

Her hand lands on his, soft and cold and pale. “You will never know how much that means to me.”

“Could I ask you something, sir?”

Zakura blinks, dragging his gaze back to the woman beside him, the one who has not moved her hand this last half hour. He doesn’t think he imagined her palm warming over his. “Anything, Majesty.”

His queen hesitates, licking her lips before she asks, “Have you ever heard of hogstrife?”

“Hogstrife?” His mind strains to piece together the vaguest picture. “That’s a plant, isn’t it? Called it widow’s weed where I’m from, I think.”

“Yes.” Her voice is clipped, crisper than he’s heard outside of a scolding. “The pharmacists use it. Not for medicinal purposes, but because it releases a scent that keeps pests from eating the plants.” Her mouth takes a wry bent. “The bugs avoid her like people do a widow.”

“Ah.” He clears his throat. “Yeah, then I’ve heard of it before.”

“They consider it essential to growing their gardens.” Her long fingers pick out an anxious rhythm on the arm of her chair; the hand in his is still. “To grow such large plots and harvest what they need for the palace...it would be impossible, if the pests could not be kept at bay.”

Zakura can only nod. Apparently, Her Majesty had not lied about having gardening on her mind.

“But hogstrife can’t grow unchecked,” she continues, gaze still riveted south. “It’s roots are thick and its leaves are broad, and if it is not regularly pruned what once protected against predation chokes the life out of the garden instead.”

“I...see.”

“And what does one do when such a thing occurs? When what one protected ruins instead?” Her voice creaks under the strain of her words. “Should it be left to destroy as its due?”

“No.” He’s never been much for plants, but he’s hacked down some overgrowth in his time. “They take them out, don’t they?”

He knows they do; the men talk about it sometimes-- stalks like tree trunks and noodle-armed herbalists with saws. They laugh at it over their cups.

“They do,” she says darkly. “Right at the root.”

Doesn’t seem so funny now.

He clears his throat, uncomfortable for no reason he can name. “I didn’t realize you knew so much about gardening, Majesty.”

“Oh...” Her mouth twists into a bitter smile. “It’s a recent interest.”

“Sir Zakura.” The hour is far too late for talk. Or rather, too early. “May I ask whose crest you wear?”

He stares down at his sleeve, the jeweled star of Clarines bright upon his sleeve. Some of the men said it was a flower-- for the Wisterias, of course-- but he’d never seen it, not really. “The crown’s.”

“Is that who you serve?” The words are very nearly slurred; Her Majesty cannot be far from sleep now, no matter how hard she tries. “The crown?”

“No.” The word comes out barely above a murmur. “I serve you, Your Majesty.”

There’s fatigue in every line of her beautiful face, but her eyes are sharp, focused on him. “Can I trust you?”

His hand presses to his chest, and oh, he’s too tired to keep himself from saying, “I’m yours. Always.”

She leans, so close that her breath ghosts over his skin. “Will you protect my family, no matter what storm may come?”

He blinks. “His Majesty charged me to--”

“No.” Fear burns bright in her eyes now. “If only my word compelled you, would you protect them?”

His hand tightens around her. “Until my dying breath.”

The moment is taut between them, her eyes searching his, and oh, he would give her anything if it would help her believe him, if it would prove his devotion to her, but--

“All right.” She leans back, breath rushing from her in a sigh. Her whole body slumps. “All right. I think...it would be best if I rest my head. I’ve kept you up...far too late.”

“Don’t think of it, my lady.” He smiles, though the humor no longer fits on his face. “Just doing my job.”

She hums, absent. “And let us hope you keep on doing it.”

He lingers, for a while.

With Her Majesty tucked in tight like a babe, his duty is lifted, his own head free to rest, but still, still--

Something keeps him pacing by the window. Only for a few minutes, no more than a quarter of an hour, but it’s enough. He’s here when the knock comes.

A nervous man stands outside the queen’s door, small and inconsequential, wringing his hands. A steward of Arleon’s, perhaps; he hasn’t bothered to keep track of all the clerks and maids and comings and goings.

“I presume,” he begins, drawing up to his full height, “that this is important.”

“My lord,” the man pipes, not quite meeting his eyes. “I must-- the queen--”

“Come on, man!” His grip on the door tightens with the knot in his gut. “Out with it.”

“It’s the king!” The man’s breath heaves, as if he’s run here. “The king is dead!”

“Dead?” A strange sense of cold certainty fills him. “How?”

“F-foul play.” He prays, in the breath the man takes, that it was a coup, a sword between the ribs, anything but-- “P-poison.”

If he could give his queen this one last, restful sleep, he would, but the death of kings does not keep. If anything it rots like the corpses themselves, growing ranker with each passing hour.

He steps into her room again, only moments from when he left it, watching the slow rise and fall of her back. The sun has begun to creep over the horizon, sending pale shafts across the bed, showing where the collar of her gown has ridden down in sleep, baring--

A bruise. A large, patchwork round at the nape of her neck, and the edges of another two, smaller, on each shoulder. A handprint.

“My lady,” he chokes, bending down. What are we to do, when what protects ruins instead?

She hums blearily, opening one eye. “Sir...?”

Who is it you serve? “It’s your husband,” he manages. “The king is dead.”

“Dead?” Still delirious from sleep, she smiles. Poison is a woman’s weapon. “Good.”

She turns over, burying herself more deeply into the pillows, and sleeps, deeper than he has ever seen her before.

Can I trust you, sir?

“Always, Majesty,” he murmurs, kneeling at her bedside, finger tangling with hers. “You will always have me.”

[annes-andromeda]

Ragnarök: Asgard’s Twilight

Chapter 4: Out With The Old

N/: New chapter! This includes some changes to Thor and Loki finding Odin, while also adding in Jane, Darcy, a bit of Valkyrie foreshadowing, and of course family drama.

The streets of London were much different from Manhattan. Sure, they were buzzing with busy civilians, but it seemed much more relaxed compared to the pushy and sometimes rude people of New York. Thor looked around as everyone gave him equally fascinated stares.

Thor had remembered the address of Jane’s home. Due to her scientific discoveries and acknowledgment as an astrophysicist, she had been able to move out of her parents house and afford her own abode. He was happy for her, but deep in the back of his mind, he still felt guilt over leaving her without notice for so long. Thankfully though, just because they weren’t romantically involved didn’t mean they had to stop being friends.

Once coming up a street, then about three more, the brothers walked past houses and playing children, till eventually they found the building that had the number “84”. Walking towards the door, Thor had one hand in his pocket, the other reaching to the doorbell. He took a deep breath before pressing on the button, then waited beside Loki for a reply.

On instinct, he assumed that Jane would be the one opening the door. But instead, another familiar face greeted him.

“Well, if it isn’t Captain sparkly face and Emperor witch pants” Darcy said, her tone humorous

Thor chuckled as he wrapped his large arms around her to give her a hug “Nice to see you too, Darcy”

When they parted, Thor looked over to Loki, who had an eyebrow raised and let out an exasperated breath. The two then heard a voice call out to Darcy, “Hey, Darcy! Is tha-“ The person stopped mid sentence the minute she locked eyes with the blonde haired giant.

Jane’s mouth hung open as she tried to find the words to say. Her hair was tied behind her, unkept and messy. “Thor...” was the only thing she could muster. She walked over to him and hugged him, which he gladly returned. Once they parted, she looked over to Loki and said “Weren’t you-“

“It’s a long story” Loki interrupted “But one that would have to wait, I’m afraid”

“He’s right, Jane” Thor said “You see, things have changed within the Nine Realms, and we were informed that our father was with you”

Jane frowned before nodding “Right this way”

Thor walked through the doorway with Loki behind him. The house was nicely kept, aside from the materials possibly used for experiments, and the bombardments of paperwork. The living room was next to the kitchen, which Darcy went into to get some food “You guys want anything?”

Thor shook his head “No, thank you” When his gaze returned to Jane, she motioned to the couch, where a heavy figure lay motionless. He immediately realized who it was, bending down and leaning in closer “Father...” he whispered. Odin’s face was embedded with sweat, a white cloth wrapping over his right eye. A blanket lay over his resting form.

He turned to Jane “What happened to him?” He asked

“I don’t know” the woman answered “He’s been very delirious lately; sweating profusely, nonsensical words, just overall acting... strange. I tried giving him some medicine to calm him down, but I didn’t know which one would actually do anything, so I just resorted to Tylenol and some Xanax. Seems to have done the trick. But he’s been sleeping in for well over three weeks now”

“Perhaps he went into Odinsleep” Loki commented, leaning over the couch “It’s possible that he could have broken free of my spell and used his own power far too greatly. And there’s never any discernible time as to when he’s in that state”

“No” Thor said “No, this is something different. If father truly was in Odinsleep, then the Odin-force would create a barrier around him as a means to protect him, and even then he’d be vulnerable, but not weak”

His hand ran through his father’s hair, moving the locks away from his sweat drenched forehead. Odin was breathing heavily, as if the air was fighting to escape his lungs. There was struggle within his body, one that told of true pain. And Thor felt helpless to do anything.

Jane then came forward and adjusted the blanket “Let’s leave him alone for now. Maybe he’ll sense that you’re here and wake up”

Struggling to part from his father’s side, Thor eventually got up, letting his father rest a while longer. Perhaps if he just waited a while longer, then perhaps his father would awaken and tell him what he needs to know.

“I see you’ve been researching more of our culture” Thor heard Loki say. It had been almost half an hour since they had arrived, and there still were no signs of stirring with Odin. Thor sat at the dinner table, drinking a latte that Darcy had happily prepared for him. Jane was standing next to Loki, rummaging through all the research papers she had conducted.

“Yeah” Jane responded “Ever since the whole ordeal with the Aether, I started looking up some more info on Norse Mythology, and I guess I just... went from there” She grabbed one of the papers, studying it intently “It’s always been fascinating to me how your appearances on Earth inspired such stories and legends. It even helped created an entire culture”

Loki shrugged “Well, it’s not as if it didn’t happen before. You mortals have always had a sense of ignorance and blind worship within you. Even the more... intellectual ones”

The sound of Jane’s scoff echoed through the kitchen “Really? And who was the one who planted Gravimetric strikes alongside Doctor Selvig to stop the Convergence when Malekith was attacking?”

“And who was the one who saved you from getting sucked into a wormhole?” Loki said snidely “Who were the ones who aided you in getting the Aether out of your body?”

“For your information, I managed to survive that encounter longer that most people could even imagine” Jane added “Shouldn’t that say something about me?”

Loki chuckled “I meant no offense, Foster. Although, you can’t deny that my jests weren’t entirely out of mockery. Just simply take it in stride, is all”

Thor could only watch the ordeal from his seat, with Darcy at his side sporting a shit-eating grin on her face “This is honestly the most entertainment I’ve gotten in the past month” She said looking over to Thor “So how’s your new boyfriend, space retriever?”

That made both Jane and Loki stop talking, the two of them immediately looking to Thor. The man felt cornered as all eyes were on him. Granted, it wasn’t the topic that made him uncomfortable. Oh god no, Thor could talk about Steve all day. Hell, when he returned to Asgard, he spoke of the Captain so often that even Fandral began taking a liking to him. This time, however, Thor felt it would be rather insensitive to talk about his new flame in front of his old flame.

“Heard he’s a real heart throb” Darcy continued “Yeah, golden hair, body like Adonis, and an ass chuck full of meat. Bet you have fun with him a lot, don’t ya? ”

Thor’s face grew red at the image of his love’s splendid behind forming within his mind. An absolutely horrible time, considering that Jane was staring at him and Loki was waiting for whatever dumb response his brother could concoct.

“Yes” He finally answered “Steve and I enjoy each other’s company very much. However, he hasn’t grown comfortable enough to warrant any... physical intimacy, let alone a kiss”

“You haven’t even kissed yet?” Loki said, the comment shocking Thor. Strange coming from someone who never ever cared for his past flings before

Thor only rolled his eyes “As I was saying... Steve prefers it that we take our time in this courtship. But the last time I saw him was but a few months ago”

Jane walked over to Thor, placing a hand atop his giant bicep “Thor,” she began “You don’t have to feel uncomfortable talking about the Captain when you’re around me. Yeah sure, we’re not together anymore, but we agreed to still be friends, remember?”

Yeah, he did. Breaking up with Jane was amongst one of the hardest decisions he’s had to make. That and giving up the throne. When the Bifrost was destroyed, he never expected to see Jane again. Figured she’d be better off without him. Meeting Steve was never his intention, but he was glad he did.

And even when his feelings for Jane diminished, and the ones for Steve grew, Thor reassured Jane that he would continue to be her friend. And it held true to this day. Just because they weren’t together anymore didn’t mean Thor stopped adoring her.

“Anyways” Jane’s voice snapped Thor out of his trance “Now that we got that out of the way, yeah... I’ve been researching more on your culture ever since the encounter with Malekith”

Darcy got up from her seat, grabbing her mug alongside Thor’s cup to wash in the sink “She’s been especially interested in those guys” She motioned to a tapestry on the wall, which depicted armored women riding atop winged horses. There were spears in their hands, their faces fair and beautiful. Strong and fierce, graceful and true.

“Ah yes, the Valkyrie” Thor said rising from his seat to take a closer look at the tapestry “I had wanted to join them when I was young, but my mother told me they were only women”

“I remember that” Loki added “We used to play a game of sorts where you’d parade the halls as a mighty Valkyrie atop your steed, and I’d chase you around until we resulted in the gardens”

“At least you could’ve actually been one of them”

“True. But I believe father wouldn’t have allowed that. Probably would have seen right through my facade”

Thor chuckled. He turned to Jane, who’s hands pushed through papers and made it to a little journal “Out of all the things that I’ve researched, they were the ones who peaked my interest. A group of elite warriors who brought the fallen in battle to Valhalla”

She held a printed painting of a young woman wearing a white dress and, like the other Valkyrie, held a spear in her hand. The maiden sat beside a lake, her feet dipped in the water, and her face solemn.

“Brunnhilde” Thor said, looking at the picture “The Fallen Angel. That’s what she was named. She led the Valkyrior into Niffleheim where they all went extinct. A shame that this resulted in Asgard returning to their more... ‘traditional’ ideals”

“It was also believed that Brunnhilde was the most beautiful warrior on Asgard” Loki claimed “A vision so fair that she could’ve been crafted for Valhalla itself”

“Yeah” Jane said “She’s pretty famous down here too. I tried looking up the cause of her and the Valkyrie’s death, but there wasn’t anything aside from them riding to Niffleheim and never being seen again. Fading into obscurity”

“In case you couldn’t tell, Jane’s got a bit of an obsession with these guys” Darcy remarked “She’s even resorted to writing old runes in her journal, placing stats on these people as if they were Mortal Combat characters, and drawing them for days on end. I haven’t been able to get a days work done without her yapping on about the history of Scandinavian culture”

“Oh shut up, you like my rambles” Jane said jokingly

“They didn’t disappear into thin air” Thor interrupted “They were killed; by one my people wouldn’t dare speak of. The goddess of death, Hela. Stories were told of her to frighten children: how she slaughtered all the Valkyrie and destroyed their legacy-”

A grumble interrupted his explanation, and he immediately turned to the source of the noise. The blanket covered Odin began to stir, his grumbling getting louder. Thor hurried over to see what was all the fuss about, Loki and Jane at his tail while Darcy stayed from a distance. He noticed that his father’s breath had grown rapid, his eyes rolling behind his head.

“Father?” Thor said, as he attempted to wake the All-Father by shaking him. Yet no response came. Again he tried, “Father!” But nothing.

“Is he having a seizure?” Jane asked worryingly

“She’s...coming” Odin could be heard saying “She’s coming! She’s coming!”

And then, his eyes fully opened, scaring the three people looking at him. They waited for him to say something, anything. But he ignored them, getting up on his own. He snatched the blanket away from his body, stretching his limbs

Thor put his hand on his father’s back “Father?” He tried “Father, what is it?”

Odin turned to look at his son, his hand coming to his face “You...you... are Thor... my son”

“Yes” Thor smiled “Yes Father, it’s me. I’m here, and so is Loki”

“Yes...my-my...my other son” Odin slurred. He stumbled on his feet, attempting to shift his gaze towards Loki “The storms within you burn greatly. I suppose the fault is mine...for being so callous. I have failed both of you... my sons... and now, I shall face the consequences”

The last word was drawn out, gurgled and transformed into more grumbling “My time has come. The day of reckoning is upon us”

“Father what are you talking about?” Thor asked, voice painted with worry

“It is upon us: Ragnarök. The end of all of Asgard. The Twilight of the Gods” Odin started bluntly

Thor and Loki looked at each other. No, it couldn’t be true. “But father” Loki stepped in “We’re not gods. You said so yourself, remember?”

Odin chuckled darkly to himself, as if his sons were nothing but voiced in his head “Oh my boys, if you knew what you truly were capable of- what I was capable of, as my father before me- you wouldn’t hesitate to call yourselves Gods” He walked over to the kitchen, shoeing away at Darcy so as to get a drink.

Thor promptly stopped him, forcefully grabbing his father’s wrist before he took a chug of alcohol “No, no! You’re going to explain yourself and tell us what’s happening”

“There’s no time!” Odin exclaimed “She is coming, the inevitable is about to transpire! I tried to hide her away, to protect Asgard from her, but her power is too great to control. Acting the fool, I was! Callous and stupid! Irresponsible!”

The words came out rushed and anxious. In an attempt to calm Odin down, Thor cupped his father’s face “Just... please explain. Slowly”

A sigh escaped Odin’s lips “It is Hela, the goddess of death. I had imprisoned her when she proved to be too extreme. But now the time has come. The time for Asgard to fall. And for my secrets to be unveiled. I have lied to you, my boy” His gaze was focused directly to Thor “You... You... are not my firstborn child”

Thor felt the wind get knocked out of him “W-What...?”

“Before I married your mother, Frigga, I had taken another partner. Her name was Jord: the goddess of the Earth. With her, I wished to conceive a child strong enough to survive on both Midgard and Asgard. When that baby was born, I couldn’t be prouder. But in my heart, I could see that there was danger in their strength. So much so, that I couldn’t even bring myself to claim them as my own”

The look of shock in Thor’s face began to mold into disgust, eyebrows furrowing and mouth agape. This had to be a nightmare. Some terrible dream he was having. The way his mouth felt dry, his skin getting colder. It was too surreal.

“When they came of age, I brought them into my forces. We fought side by side together. But the child grew to detest me, even going as far as to plot and scheme with my enemies. I sent them into exile, feeling it was the best choice for the Nine Realms. And when it was time for me to seek out another Queen, I met Frigga. Which resulted, in your birth”

Thor shook his head continuously “No...no. Don’t say it, don’t you dare say it”

Odin gave a look of shame. The feeling in the room was uncomfortable, with Jane and Darcy completely silent, unable to comprehend what was happening. Loki was in as much shock as anyone, but he felt the need to say something. The news of Hela returning was already enough for him to be in a stressful mode.

“The goddess of death” Odin began “Hela. She is not simply myth. She is very real. She... is your sister”

He looked over to Loki, his face hardening and stern.

“And your mother”

[edencantstopfallininlove]

A Declaration

You might want to read this all the way through. There’s something quite important that I want to share with you guys... However, if you reblog, don’t spoil the surprise in your response or the tags! In light of more recent posts, feel free to ignore that now!

As a disclaimer, I know nothing about fashion and I make that pretty obvious, but heck it

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

How fortunate it was that the streets of Port Maerifa were so quiet that evening. The blue accents of the city's architecture were bolstered by the coming of twilight. A faint sea breeze danced about from the docks. As day slowly shifted into night, a pair of footsteps could be heard ambling along the streets.

Dhar was leading the way, guiding his lover by the hand as they moved towards their destination. This was a date they had been planning together for weeks; now that it was finally drawing to a close, Heather took the opportunity to really drink in the sight of the man who stole her heart. He had abandoned his usual armour in favour of a white shirt with a leather jacket, indigo denim slim jeans and black dress shoes that seemed to shine a little in the blue hour. Over his shoulder, he wore a small musky red bag with a thin strap; she wondered why he would need it on a date, but proceeded not to think about it again once they were out the door. All in all, she thought he looked just as gorgeous as always, if not even more so.

For their date, the two had put together a whistle-stop tour of their favourite spots. Each destination had a story behind it, a reason for them to slow down and reminisce. Deep down, Heather contemplated the possibility that there was a greater motive behind the whole thing. The final stop on their tour had taken them to a spot they knew all too well. The arch at the city’s foot.

"Oh, this place," said Heather, thinking aloud. "Remember the whole 'who stays and who goes' talk we had here? When you told Ajna - you told everyone - that you had nowhere to belong?"

"That I do," replied Dhar, "but a lot's changed since then. And I find myself thinking that less and less as time goes by; as I spend more new days with you."

"You’re so right. I've been thinking about the friends we've made on our journey, how we've come to be like family to each other. I hope you've felt it, Dhar. That there are people who care about you and are proud of how far you've come."

There was a long, comfortable silence as the couple stood side by side and drank in the atmosphere of the city. Feeling the urge to happy-stim, Heather clicked together the short heels of her black flats. She loved little gaps like this, where she could take a moment to feel the cool air brushing against her skin, ruffling the knee-length skirt of her blue summer dress, and appreciate everything that had built up to this moment. Every high, every low, every failure and triumph that led the two of them down their respective paths, and to each other.

"Marry me."

And then she heard them. The two words that dissolved her train of thought. Heather flinched on the spot as she tried to make sense of everything. The gentleness in Dhar's voice, the feeling of his fingers interlocking with hers, the fondness in his eyes... Was he staring at her the whole time?!

"Dhar, have you been hanging around Baozhai?" she asked, stammering her way through. "Did she imbibe you into this before we left?"

Dhar had to laugh. "Gods no, you know I won't drink that crap of hers!"

"Neither will I, to be fair."

"Come on, I'm serious! I want us to get married. I can’t think of anything better than being able to spend the rest of our lives like this."

Still not entirely believing what she was hearing, Heather turned to hold her lover's free hand as their gazes met.

"Just being with you is... already so much more than I ever thought I deserved. You know my past. There have been times when I've wondered whether you'd be happier without me. And yet, no matter how far I fell into the cycle of self-doubt, you've always been there to help me back onto my feet. It's you who moulded me into the man I am now. Someone who truly feels worthy of this woman's love. And believe me, you deserve it all in return. I want to remind you every day of how strong you are. How supportive, how compassionate, how beautiful, inside and out. Cliche as it sounds, you are, without a doubt, the best thing that ever happened to me. I mean, I literally wouldn't be here if not for you. Whatever the future holds for us, I want us to always be around to support each other. Because you and I? We're a team."

After a brief pause, Dhar abruptly shifted a single hand around in the shoulder bag. "Shit, where'd I put the damn thing...?"

"It's okay, sweetheart. I'll help you look for it if you-"

Heather was silenced first by the sight of the black box (it wasn't all an elaborate joke), then by the ring itself as Dhar knelt down and opened it - the silver band twisted upwards, with one line on each side adorned with amethysts that led the eye towards a single large orange topaz. What else could she do in that moment but gasp?

"Heather, my saviour, my rock, my love... Will you make me the happiest person in all the worlds?" His hopeful smile was offset now by glassy eyes, looking at Heather as if she were the most incredible thing to ever exist as he finally got to the big question. "Will you marry me?"

Heather's eyes sparkled as she preserved the memory of a display of love and vulnerability that she never would've expected from Dhar when they first met. But he was not the same man he was back then. He had grown so much kinder, nobler, truer; her heart swelled with pride at the privilege of being a part of that change.

If only he knew she’d made up her mind long ago.

"Yes!! Of course!" she cried as she dived in and enveloped her beloved in the biggest, tightest embrace he had yet been given. Dhar was, frankly, amazed that he managed to maintain his hold on the ring box.

"Woah, don't hug me! I should be hugging you!!"

He was quick to get over the shock, though, melting into his now fiancée’s touch and, at last, allowing himself to cry. After holding back long enough to say his piece, hearing the answer he had sought cemented this as the best day of his life, and now was the time to set his elation free.

"I'm sorry I'm such a mess right now..." he said when he let go after what seemed like aeons.

"A hot mess, maybe," replied Heather with a laugh as the ring was placed on her finger. "Still, you did say you'd be the happiest person in the worlds. You kind of asked for this!"

"I suppose I did, yeah. But it was worth it."

Almost instinctively, Dhar slid two fingers under Heather's chin, lifting her head to lock eyes with her in a silent request for permission. She responded with a subtle nod and, in the fading moonlight, accompanied by distant ocean waves, their promise of a union was sealed with a deep, lingering kiss, hands resting in each others’ hair, smiling against each others lips. It came so naturally, like it was always meant to be.

"Thank you, Heather. For everything. I love you... So, so much."

"Likewise, Dhar. I promise you won't regret this. Here's to our future - together."

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Soooo yeah, you probably all saw this coming a mile away, but...

As of today, Dhar and I are engaged!

An official announcement post will be going out at some point in the next few days, fingers crossed!

For reference, the ring looks like this: (psst everyone pitched in)

@ode-to-joie @tuff-and-fluff @f-orever-and-ever @abigailsfictionalothers @kitten-ships @dazailovemail​ @growlitheships @fawnships @fireemlmblem​ @rosepetalcharm​ and everyone who’s been kind enough to listen to me gush about my selfship!

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

may I request some fluffy Janus and Patton cuddles?

Yes! I'm sorry this took so long to answer but I hope you enjoy it!

Controller Passing Made Easy

Summary: Having Patton in his lap just makes switching who's playing the game easier, that's all! And if cuddling ensues during and after than that's their business.

Warnings: spoilers for a boss fight in Twilight Princess if you want to avoid that

Ships: platonic Patton x Janus, platonic Mociet

Janus swore quietly as he took another hit from a bulbin he hadn't noticed sneaking behind him. The buttons clicked loudly on the old controller as he executed a rather impressive spin attack that went immediately into a finishing blow, making Link turn quickly to slash at another enemy and sending it flying into the lava. The camera angle spun wildly as he searched for more enemies, letting out a sigh when he saw there were none.

"Alright, let's see if I remember this boss."

Since Janus had been accepted and Remus...mostly accepted, the barrier between the "light sides" and "dark sides" had been much easier to walk freely across. Which allowed Janus to finally bring his console out from the other sides' common room and install it in the "light sides'" where there was much fewer outlets being used and the couch was free of mysterious stains and sticky spots from where Remus flopped down on his returns from his side of the imagination. He shuddered to think of what even a quarter of them could possibly be from.

Shaking his head he gathered what hearts he could from the pots surrounding the door and entered the last room of the dungeon just as Patton came down the stairs. His eyes flicked towards the other as the cutscene started but Patton's were glued to the screen, watching curiously as Link entered a large room with a sleeping beast chained upright in the middle of the room. He crossed the floor slowly and quietly sat beside Janus on the couch as the gem on the beasts forehead glowed red, music beginning to pick up while the monster raised its head to examine its prison. It roared as it tugged at its chains and Patton gasped out as it ripped them free from the wall and let a final challenging roar right in Link's face. The battle was on.

Quickly maneuvering behind Fyrus, the Goron Mines final boss Janus instantly remembered the gimmick as he saw the chains dragging on the ground, grabbing them as he switched on his iron boots and tried moving backward, swearing louder as it did nothing. Remembering his bow just as the monster was catching up to him he aimed and quickly shot at the glowing gem on its head, grabbing the chains again as Fyrus' steady gait turned into a stomping rampage. The top heavy boss fell hard on the ground and he quickly ran around to slash at its vulnerable gem, smirking in satisfaction knowing he was doing it right. This particular boss was one of the easiest in game to figure out and beat but it had been such a long time since he had sat down and played any kind of video game that it was almost like doing a first playthrough again; which was nice considering how many times he had beaten this particular title in the past.

With a final strike of his sword another cut scene started up, victorious music swelling as Fyrus shrunk and collapsed while twilight particles flew off of him to condense into a piece of fused shadow above, Midna taking form to reach for it and create a portal to exit the dungeon. Smiling slightly Janus made sure to save before putting the controller down and turning towards Patton.

"Was there something you needed?"

Hurt was quickly replaced with a smile as Patton stood up quickly and shook his head. "Nope, sorry! Just wanted to see what you were up to since you've been down here a while, I'll leave to let you-"

"Patton." Janus winced as he realized how his question must have sounded. "I didn't mean anything by that, I've been down here a for a couple hours and thought perhaps you were wanting the TV. I truly didn't mean anything by it."

Pattons smiled turned more genuine as he carefully sat back down, gesturing to the TV. "I haven't seen this in a while. What's it called again?"

"The Legend of Zelda Twilight Princess. Thomas got this shortly after getting a Game Cube, it was one of Virgil and I's favorites."

Patton nodded. "I remember now. Did you know Thomas owns the newest one?"

"There's a new one?" Janus put the controller down curiously. He'd been a little out of the loop lately when it came to the things Thomas did unless he was actually needed.

Patton nodded again more excitedly, launching himself over to the TV and digging quickly through the game sleeves until he found what he was looking for. "This! The Legend of Zelda Breath of the Wild!"

Janus took it excitedly, wondering when it had come out. The cover art looked beautiful, slightly painted and bright and showcasing an expansive world to discover and explore. He looked up at Patton imploringly, eyes flicking to the switch he had noticed but hadn't touched since it wasn't technically his, content enough to play on the console he had brought up with permission. Patton laughed softly and took the sleeve from him, quickly setting up the game and handing him a different controller.

-----

"There's another one!!" Patton bounced slightly as he made Link dash towards another frog to add to their inventory. Janus smiled fondly and tightened his grip around Patton's waist, the fatherly sides soft hair tickling the underside of his chin but he made no move to sit up. He didn't really know how they had gotten into this position, sitting in front of the couch with Patton nestled comfortably in his lap with his head resting underneath Janus' chin, but he supposed it made passing the controller back and forth easier. They hadn't gotten very far in the game, both of them much too excited to explore the map and take pictures to actually progress the main storyline. As it was almost six hours later their stamina wheel was full and they had done enough shrines and collected the spirit orbs needed to gain seven new heart containers. Janus was reasonably sure that they'd probably be overpowered for most of the games bosses at this point but he didn't care and Patton didn't really seem to either, excitedly moving from one interesting thing spotted in the distance to another.

He blinked out of his thoughts as he felt Patton tap his hands with the controller, unwinding them from their previous position and taking it as the moral side settled back against him with a content sigh. Thankfully it was a "finish all the leftovers in the fridge please" day so they hadn't had to be distracted for too long as they whipped up something quickly earlier and ate before returning to their game, the other sides not doing much more than shooting them questioning looks before going about their own business. Roman and Virgil's glances were admittedly a bit more...touchy, but it didn't seem to bother Patton so Janus was content to focus on the game rather than the tense atmosphere the mindscape hadn't managed to shake yet.

Some time later Janus finally made it to the top of a glowing mountain, smiling at the scattered blupees running around before gasping as he took in a strangely beautiful creature. Snapping it with his camera The Lord of the Mountain stood in the small pond surrounded by the little bunny owl creatures, celestial patterns swirling across its glowing blue body as it moved around unaware of his presence hiding behind a bush. He tapped Pattons arm gently not having heard a reaction from him yet. Looking down as he still recieved no response he nearly melted at the sight. Patton was slumped slightly to the side, glasses askew and mouth agape as he slept still nested in Janus' lap, which he only now realized was quite cramped. His back also let it's own discomfort be known as he glanced at the clock and startled as he realized it was nearly midnight.

He set the controller down gently and with a wave of his hand turned off the TV and console, knowing that unless he shut the game down completely it would pick up where he left off. He carefully maneuvered to stretch out his tired legs, taking off Patton's glasses and setting them down on the table as well. Gently twisting he managed to get an arm under the others knees while his other supported his back, holding him close as he slowly stood up. Glancing at the stairs he scoffed and shook his head. Absolutely not, and sinking down would risk waking Patton up, which looking at his peaceful face that was something he definitely did not want. Couch it was then.

He sat down slowly and leaned back to swing his legs onto the cushions, gently moving Patton around until he was more or less laying on top of him. Thanking the stars he seemed to be an incredibly heavy sleeper he snapped his fingers to change them both into their pajamas, chuckling as Patton curled tightly into him clad in his fuzzy gray cat onesie. Janus himself had black socks and sweatpants with a comfortable dark grey long sleeve that covered his arms until they met his usual gloves. His relationship with the others was improving, but the trust was not yet established enough for him to break out his own onesie just yet. Another snap left the room blissfully dark and with Patton's warm weight on top of him he drifted almost immediately to sleep.

------

Patton blinked tiredly as sunlight knocked insistently against his eyelids. Waving his hand had the curtains drawn in an instant and he sighed into the darkness, snuggling further into the warmth beneath him.

His eyes snapped open as he lifted his head to see exactly where he was, confusion marring his features as a scaled face was seen just inches from his own. Realizing he must have fallen asleep while playing the game last night he smiled warmly at the other side, giggling as Janus shifted in his sleep and the tip of a forked tongue blepped out adorably. Settling again on the others chest, Patton sighed into the warmth and closed his eyes, content to have a late morning with the beat of Janus' heart thudding comfortingly in his ear.

This work and other one shots are also available on AO3 if you'd like! Submissions for other one shots are still being taken if theres something you'd like me to write!

[kittinoir]

Echoes of You ch. 18

Read on Ao3

Chat Noir couldn’t get the taste of Marinette off his lips.

He’d practically begged her not to join the fight again, nearly paralyzed by the fear of something happening to her and not being able to do anything but watch. It had never bothered him before, but then, blind trust in his Lady had given him false confidence. The Miracle Cure could fix anything, and together they could beat anything Hawkmoth threw at them. Now Red’s inexperience made them vulnerable. She was growing in leaps and bounds, but she just didn’t have the skill that came with over a year’s worth of practice.

He’d been afraid Marinette would distract him on the field, but he’d never imagined she could do it from over five kilometres away. As if to prove his point, Red’s yo-yo came flying out of the twilight and nailed him in temple.

“You’re not focused tonight,” Red accused as she appeared from around one of the many trees in Trocadero. “That’s, like, the fifth hit I’ve landed.”

“Maybe you’re just getting better,” Chat Noir lied, rubbing his head. Thank god the Miraculous absorbed most of the damage or there’d be a lot of questions about the crown of bruises he’d be sporting the next day.

“Don’t insult me,” Red scoffed, rolling her eyes. As she did he had to wonder how he’d never noticed how Chloe-like she was. It must have been the black hair throwing him off. “You’re just getting sloppy. What is it this time? Finally found your mystery Bug?”

“Don’t talk about her like that,” he snapped. She raised her palms in a gesture of peace as he glared at her, but the truth was it was his own guilt that was eating away at him.

He’d known - he’d known - he was confused about Marinette, and he’d convinced himself to see her anyway. ‘For her own good’. To protect her, because he couldn’t lose someone else. And then kissing her, not once, but twice, because no matter how hard he tried to keep her at arms length, he couldn’t stop himself from crossing the line, again, and again, and again.

And the past four days had been agonizing - not just because he’d laid awake every night convincing himself not to pass by her place until he fell into a restless sleep, but because he had to face her every day at school. And that, it turned out, was every bit as challenging. He’d catch the scent of lavender and vanilla, or their hands would brush in the hall, and he’d find himself swaying towards her like a star caught in her orbit.

He’d known he could fall in love with her. He just hadn’t known she’d be so addictive.

And in the meantime, his Lady was still out there, counting on him. He’d tried to fix things and all he’d done was make them more complicated. He still loved his Lady. A part of him thought he always would. But Marinette… that could be real, he realized for the first time. Attainable, and good, and steady. Different, but just as good as what he felt for his Lady, if he let himself pursue it.

And he was surprised to find he wanted to.

“Just a rough couple of days,” Chat Noir said, rolling his shoulders back. “Running extra patrols, that kind of thing. Let’s go again.”

Red raised a brow. “You sure?”

“This is all the time we have to prepare,” he said, squaring up. “We should make the most of it.”

“Well you two look much friendlier than the last time I saw you.”

Red scowled over Chat Noir’s shoulder, and he turned to see Salem leaning against a tree-trunk, half in shadow. At least they could agree on how they felt about their guardian.

“I was beginning to think you took off with the Miracle Box,” Chat Noir said, sheathing his baton. 

“Thought about it,” Salem admitted breezily. Chat Noir believed he probably had. “Decided I wouldn’t get too far, especially considering the…limitations on it.”

“I thought you couldn’t open the tablet,” Chat Noir said cautiously. 

Salem shrugged. “Couldn’t. But it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what happened, if they’re paying attention.”

“Uh, anyone feel like cluing me in here?” Red asked, crossing her arms. 

“Not really,” Salem said. For once, Chat Noir agreed with him. The fewer witnesses to this discussion, the better - especially since that witness was Chloe. His Lady may have trusted her, but he was still reserving judgement. “You can go, Lady-brat.”

Red’s scowl grew more ferocious, but she swallowed any retort that might have been on her lips. “What-ever. I’m out.”

Chat Noir crossed his arms as he listened to Red leave and subtly repositioned himself in front of Salem. He wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t go far, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Salem anticipated that as well. 

“So you still haven’t found her,” Salem finally said. “I must admit, I’m surprised. I didn’t realize she was the entire brains of your little operation.”

Chat Noir stifled a wince, glad for the mask on his face. “My Lady knows I like a challenge,” he retorted.

“No, I guess she wouldn’t have made it easy.” Salem began to casually stroll around the hero. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve figured it out?” Chat Noir said, hope creeping into his voice. “Care to share?”

Salem snorted. “No, unfortunately your Lady is as elusive to me as she is to you, Adrien.”

Chat Noir’s ears rang with the sound of his name, so nonchalantly dropped he almost missed it. His heart began to pound in his chest. He’d been so hell-bent on finding his Lady and shocked at discovering Chloe that he’d never imagined a scenario where he’d be caught out, and certainly not by someone he wasn’t sure he could count among his allies.

“It isn’t like her to make mistakes,” he said smoothly. He didn’t allow any of the storm he was feeling to show on his face. For all he knew it was a bluff anyway.

“It was never supposed to be me; it was supposed to be you,” Salem continued as though he hadn’t expected him to make it easy. “In the end, it was no different from any other thing in my life..”

Salem ripped his hood back as his mask dissolved into smoke, revealing a familiar face.

“Felix?”

His cousin glared back at him, producing the same delicate Miracle Box he’d first seen months ago. “It was never meant for me,” he said, holding it out. “Getting Trixx to come out and play was a challenge, but in the end he did it for the same reason any of them have even deigned to speak to me - for her. Your Lady.”

“You’re supposed to be in London,” Chat Noir said stupidly. The mundane detail was the only thing he could seize on. The rest of it couldn’t make sense until that did. “How…?”

Felix sneered. “Seriously, Adrien? How hard is it? I was there, ok!? I was there that night. I was outside because I was trying to figure out how to steal the other Grande de Vanily ring. My mom didn’t know, no one knew. It was a mistake. Ladybug saw me and thought I was you, and she gave me the box. She was scared, and it all happened so fast. I think she was afraid you’d try to stop her, and then she disappeared just as quickly.”

“It’s been you the whole time…”

“More or less,” Felix said. “Like I said, Trixx was…generous enough to help out from time to time.”

“That night on the Eiffel Tower?”

Felix nodded. “Sneaking out of the house after nine is one thing, but travelling to a different country is quite another. Needless to say Kaalki wasn’t nearly as co-operative.”

Chat Noir pounced on his cousin, pinning him to the ground. Miraculous-born strength made it easy, and he had to remind himself not to hurt his cousin. “I asked you a thousand times,” he ground out, “For the details of what happened. And you told me there were no messages, no more answers.”

“Forgive me for not wanting to get mixed up in all this,” Felix snarled. “What was I supposed to do, leave a trail of rose petals to my front door for him to follow? Not all of us have a side-kick to throw under the bus when the bad guy comes knocking!”

Chat Noir hit him. He felt cartilage tear under his knuckles. Blood gushed down the front of his cousins’ jacket. Too late, he realized Felix had let him pin him - he was still using Trixx. He remembered, though, when Felix punched him right back. The two rolled across the grass tearing at each other until they stopped as suddenly as they had started, flat on their backs on the grass, out of breath, and staring up at the night sky.

“Feel better?” Felix panted, swiping blood of his face.

“Not as much as I thought I would,” Chat Noir admitted. “Sorry about the nose.”

But Felix shrugged. “Maybe now people will stop comparing me to the great Adrien Agreste. Besides, I know you were holding back.”

Chat Noir frowned and winced when he pulled his split lip. “What makes you think I was holding back?”

“You didn’t cataclysm my face,” Felix said, groaning as he sat up. “I guess I should thank you for that.”

“You didn’t deserve it,” Chat Noir said, sitting up as well. “Hawkmoth on the other hand…”

“I have to agree with you there,” Felix said. “That man has made my life a living hell ever since this happened. I have no idea how you’ve put up with it for almost two years. And Adrien…I never would have tried to sell you out to him if I’d known you were the one behind the mask.”

“I know,” Chat Noir said. He wasn’t sure how he felt knowing Felix would have been fine selling out a stranger, but supposed it was the best he was going to get. “Is that why you decided to tell me it was you? You want out?”

“Out?” Felix repeated. “Are you kidding? I want to take that man down.” 

Chat Noir frowned. “Because you felt threatened for seven weeks any time you showed up here as the guardian?”

“Do I need another reason?” Felix demanded, but his shoulders sagged. “Whether it was an accident or not, Ladybug chose me to be the guardian. It started out with me trying to prove to myself I could be just as good a choice as you. I didn’t realize she’d picked you because you were her partner, and I thought I didn’t care, but…”

“Are you trying to say you got invested?” Chat Noir asked.

Felix rolled his eyes. “Let’s just say I want to see how it ends. Besides, you guys need some more morally grey heroes to do the dirty work.”

“I don’t know that withholding information, manipulating people, and theft makes you a hero, Felix,” Chat Noir said. “But…and I’ll deny this if you ever bring it up, especially to Ladybug, you might have a point.”

“All true,” Felix admitted. “Maybe this will make up for it; Trixx, let’s rest.”

Chat Noir squinted as bright orange light lit the empty park. The little fox kwami spiralled forth and dove into Felix’s waist coat pocket, rummaging around for god only knew what snack he preferred. 

“You wanted information,” Felix said as Trixx reappeared with some snap peas. “They won’t talk to me, but they’ve been dying to talk to you.”

“Chat Noir!” Trixx sailed over, nuzzling his cheek bone. “So many things to tell you!”

“And you kept them to yourself because…?” Chat Noir asked as he held out his hand for the kwami. 

“First of all, you’re tough to track down,” Felix said. “And second of all, I wasn’t sure I could trust you. I didn’t put together you were Chat Noir until like three nights ago. I thought there was a reason Ladybug didn’t trust her partner with the Miracle box. I didn’t realize ‘Adrien’ was her partner.”

It made sense, in the worst way. The events of the past two months were beginning to remind him a little too much of one of Shakespeare’s tragedies for comfort. Missed messages. Mistaken identities. He had to make sure their story didn’t end the same way as those ones.

“Hey, Trixx,” he said, turning to the kwami. “Thanks for helping Felix out the past couple of weeks. What’ve you got for me?”

Trixx floated slowly into the air, spreading his arms. “The fox is the Miraculous of illusion,” he declared. “When I’m in play not everything is as it seems.”

“I know,” Chat Noir said, confused. “You and Alya have helped me and Ladybug out a bunch of times.”

“Not just her,” Trixx said, leaning in. “And not just me. I’m not the only one who makes people see things that aren’t there when someone needs to be in two places at once.”

“Two places at…are you saying Ladybug used you to appear in two places at once as her civilian self?”

Trixx smiled. “It’s easier to use me than a disguise, although a lie will do in a pinch.”

Wayem. He’d used Wayem as a distraction, and a lie…when he’d called Francios Dupont an elementary school. That had been his lie.

“You can’t give me a name, can you?�� Chat Noir asked. He knew the answer and wasn’t surprised when Trixx shook his head, but he’d had to ask, just in case. “Did she use you before or after she became the guardian?”

“Before,” Trixx said, somersaulting through the air.

“Finally asking the right questions,” Felix muttered.

“There were too many times,” Chat Noir said, frustrated. “It could have been anytime in the past seven months. For all I know it could be Alya herself, or any one of the civilians Ladybug and I rescued. I don’t know how long Ladybug had access to the Miraculous. I never thought to ask later. It didn’t seem important.”

“Sleep on it,” Trixx suggested. “It’s not so complicated. Follow your heart. Sometimes instead of looking for what’s wrong, we should look for what’s missing.”

“Do you ever speak in anything other than riddles?” Chat Noir muttered.

“When the occasion calls for it,” Trixx said succinctly before drifting back to Felix.

“You should take this,” his cousin said, picking up the Miracle box from where it had fallen when they’d fought. Chat Noir hadn’t even noticed it, and he wondered if that meant maybe Felix should keep it.

“She named you,” Felix said, as though reading his mind. “More importantly, she chose you. It belongs with you. It’s safer with with you.”

“Not if anyone else figures out my identity,” Chat Noir mumbled, but he took the box.

“That secret’s safe with me,” Felix promised. 

“It was safe with Ladybug, too.” In the end, she’d been right. They were only as safe as Hawkmoth’s latest akuma, and the best kept secrets were the ones you never shared.

“What’s done is done,” Felix said, not unkindly. “It’s time to look to the future. The way I see it, there’s only one way to fix everything so it’s safe to find your Bug.”

“Oh?” Chat Noir flexed his claws. He had the Miracle box, he had the tablet; he was ready to get his Lady back. “What’s that?”

“We have to take out Hawkmoth.”

[marvelmymarvel]

This Feeling Is Strange

Stephen Strange x Stark!Risky!Reader

Synopsis: You were in love with him, and it was really quite strange. He saved you once upon a time and you couldn’t get him out of your head. You had to see him. So you did everything you could to see the sorcerer again. Much to his demise.

Trigger Warnings: Attempted Assault, Girl is risky and gets into danger.

A/n: This is very Bella and Edward in Twilight: New Moon… I have no regrets. 

Stephen Strange. The name alone sent shivers down your spine and caused butterflies to erupt in your stomach. His presence made your heart falter and your hands always became sweaty. You dreamt of him every night. He became the first thing you thought of when you woke up and the very last thing you thought of before bed. That was when you knew that you had fallen in love with him and as a Stark, that was a dangerous thing to do. Sure, your older brother had luck with Pepper, but even then Pepper was always placed in harm’s way and most times, Tony had to be there to protect her. You couldn’t protect a lover because of your very human and clumsy self and you realized early on in life that you needed someone to protect you instead. Even though you met the Avenger men and they had saved you countless times because of your association with Tony, none of them stuck out to you as boyfriend material. That was until you met him.

Stephen Strange. The sorcerer supreme as you would soon learn, saved you one day when a group of men tried to rob you. It wasn’t that big of a deal for you, really, as being jumped was almost a daily occurrence when you walked alone in the streets of New York, so you didn’t expect to be saved right away. The men had you shoved against the brick wall and you looked up at the sky in annoyance. They had caused you to drop your coffee and while your father left you millions of dollars, that 5 dollar coffee meant a lot to you. “You’re so pretty little one” the man purred as his hands trailed down your waist. You looked down at him and shot an unimpressed glare towards his way. “You gonna take my money or am I going to have to kick your ass?” you snapped back causing a chuckle to rise from the man’s throat as the other two men looked at each other in shock at your words. “You should learn to watch your words when all you are is an airheaded woman-”

“HEY! I am not an airhead thank you! I have an IQ larger than you, thing-one and thing-two over there, combined.” you hissed down at him before bringing your knee up and shoving him away. He stumbled back with a dark laugh but pulled out the gun that was in his pants. “Ooooh an unloaded gun. How terrifying” you mocked as you threw up your hands in a ‘frightened’ motion. “News flash piggo” you began once more as you straightened up and looked at him with fire in your eyes “I have seen bigger guns being pointed at me that were _actually _loaded, now I suggest you put it away before someone gets hur-”

BANG

You dropped down to your knees at the sound. He had raised the gun into the air and shot up, causing your ears to ring from the loud bang. You looked at him and you could feel the blood drain from your face the minute you were looking down the barrel of the gun.

“You’ve gone quiet little one… Didn’t know you were afraid of a little ol’ gun” he teased before taking the barrel and dragging it down your jawbone. You fumbled the outside of your pocket and your eyes closed in despair the second you realized you left your panic button at home. Tony couldn’t save you and worse yet, no one knew you were out as you wanted time away. So you did what Tony always told you to do in moments like this.

“I’ll give you whatever you want” you stated firmly as you opened your e/c eyes up to his dark ones. He chuckled before dropping down into a squat so he could be eye level with you. He let the tip of the gun run down your neck and to the top of your shirt collar. Pulling the collar down, he exposed the top of your chest causing a shiver to erupt over your entire body. “Whatever I want?” he purred before leaning closer to your face. You fought back the urge to vomit at the putrid smell flowing from his lips. The man probably brushed his teeth once a week by the look and smell of his mouth. “Okay, not whatever you want… I was meaning money-”

“Oh, you are worth so much more than money little Stark” he whispered against your ear before biting down on it softly, causing a whimper to flow from your lips. To say you were afraid was an understatement. You were petrified of what this man could do to you and your brother would never know. “Uh… Boss” one of his men stated, causing your eyes to flick over to them. They were looking at the darker part of the alley and towards a figure. Your heart raced in anticipation, hoping it was Tony or Steve, or really anyone for that matter. You hated feeling so vulnerable, like a damsel in distress as Tony would call you. The man stood up and looked down towards the figure. “Who the hell are you” he called out to the figure and for a few seconds it didn’t move and you were afraid that it was your imagination. “Let her go” the figure called out, causing your heart to flutter at the thought of walking unharmed from this place. The main man cackled above you until the figure’s hands ignited into mandala looking shapes and two portals opened up, sucking the two henchmen into another dimension. Your eyes widened at the power before you and hope-filled your whole body as a big smile formed on your lips at your savior.

But before you could rejoice for too long, the boss grabbed you and ripped you up to his chest. His arm wrapped firmly around your middle and the gun was pressed to your temple, causing a squeak to fly out of your lips. “Come any closer and I’ll blow the bitches head off” he snapped at the figure who, while he had lights for hands, was still concealed in the darkness. He lowered his hands, the light burning out before stepping forward and into the light. Your heart stopped at the sight of him and his dark eyes brought a certain calm to flow over your body. It seemed to reassure you that while a gun was pressed to your temple, you would be okay. “Let her go… She is of no use to you. And if you do not let her go… I will do to you what I did to your men” the mysterious man continued as he looked from you to the man menacingly before walking towards you two. The man became more frantic and walked backward with you in his grasp, begging the man to leave you two be or more so him than you. Your eyes widened in fear as you heard the man scream that he was going to shoot you. “NO PLEASE HELP ME!” you screamed out in fear as you felt the arm wrap tighter around you. Your legs kicked up into the air as the man dragged you away faster, the cold metal pressed to your sweaty head was obnoxious and the cold was the only thing that you could feel along with the panic of never seeing Tony again. But then the man stopped and eyed something behind you. “Please help me” you sobbed out as you tried to push the bosses arm away. You wanted to see Pepper and Tony married. You wanted to be there to live life. You wanted to live. You could see the finger on the trigger in your peripherals and your eyes filled with tears as you looked at the new man anxiously, “PLEASE-”

“NOW” the man screamed and in an instant, the boss was pulled off of you by a flying… Cape? The man screamed as the cape dumped him into the portal that the man formed and only when it closed did you drop to the ground. Your sobs racked your body as you clutched onto the gravel below you. All the emotions filled your body and you felt unable to function until you felt the rain and a hand on your shoulder. You turned to the new hero in your world as the rain mixed with your own tears. Up close, you noticed that his eyes were a blue and that the red cape that pulled the man off of you was now around his neck. “Are you okay?” he whispered quietly as he brought a gloved hand to your cheek. He examined your face for any injuries but was relieved when he didn’t find any. His eyes snapped back to yours and you froze under their intense gaze. “Who are you?” you croaked out finally causing him to chuckle lightly before standing up and helping you up as well. “Doesn’t matter, your brother must be worried” he commented as he brought you to the opening of the alley where you both were now surrounded by people and cars. It brought a feeling of peace over you knowing that you were no longer alone, but it wasn’t the amount of peace that you felt while under his gaze and protection. This man, he made you feel something different. Sure you had been saved countless times from your brothers and even the Avengers, but this man. He was magical.

“I’ll get you a taxi” he commented before stepping towards the road to get you a taxi. His cape flew off and wrapped itself around you, lessening the chill that coursed through your body from the cold rain. He flagged down a taxi and turned towards your soaking wet form. The cape seemed to push you towards him and you snapped out of your loving gaze towards the stranger, the second you felt it. “My cape likes you” he joked as he opened the door for you to climb into. The cape flew off you the minute you stepped in and sat down into the cab. He closed the door and you rolled down the window, telling the driver to give you a sec. The man was already feet away, but you called out to him. “Wizard!” you screamed into the rain, causing a light chuckle to form in his chest before he turned back to you. “Yes Miss Stark?” he called back, the rain was sending a chill through his body as well and at this point, he’d do or say anything to you just so he could get inside himself. “What’s your name?” you called back with warm eyes and a swirling stomach. He smiled at you before kicking the puddle at his feet. “Doctor Stephen Strange” he shouted back and it caused a smile to rise on your lips. “Thank you… Doctor Strange” you stated finally before leaning back into the car and rolling up the window. Strange nodded your way before turning back to walk away, “Anytime” he whispered to himself. You watched him walk away before telling the driver where he should take you. You looked at your hands and began to fiddle with your fingers. His name rolled around in your head and it somehow caused you to fall more in love with him the more you thought about him.

“Stephen. Strange.” you whispered to yourself while smiling at your fingers, “I like the ring of that.”

You were always the worst Stark when it came to what you did in your free time. You found danger or it found you, but either way, you found him. Every time you either got in trouble or trouble got you, he was there. Granted, he never said much, only saved the day, called for a cab and moved on, but the dreams. The dreams were beautiful. Dreaming of him was about as magical as he was, almost. The feeling of waking up and realizing it was all a dream always left you feeling empty. Then you realized you could find him through danger, which was easy to do as a Stark.

You could hear the dogs barking behind you as you ran away from the gang members who tried to catch you. Breaking onto the rooftop of the building, you picked up your pace and ran to the edge, it was either jump or be mauled to shreds. You didn’t even think before jumping off the ledge. The feeling of falling was not something that you wished for, all you wished for was seeing him again. But as you were free-falling, you realized you were about to die.

The ground approached faster and faster and you began to pray to God that Tony was somewhere nearby. You shut your eyes and started screaming right before the impact. But it never came. Cracking open an eye, you noticed a red piece of fabric wrapped tightly around you, the cement only mere centimeters from your nose. “Holy-” you began but the cape shot you upwards and towards another building, your screaming echoed throughout the streets once more until the cape set you safely on an adjacent building where Stephen stood with arms crossed. You gulped a little and grabbed onto the fabric for comfort, but it ripped off your body and flew over to its master who was angrily glaring at you. This would be the 5th time that he had saved you…In a span of one week…It was only Wednesday…“If I have to keep saving you every time you go out, we are gonna have some issues Y/n” Stephen scolded causing your cheeks to heat up. He knew what you were doing, and he didn’t appreciate it. He had grown very fond of you over the past couple of weeks because of the ‘incidents’ that you ran into. Ever since he saved you 4 weeks ago, he knew he had to keep you safe in case harm ever came your way again. But he didn’t think it would come almost twice a day. “I’m sorry… Stephen, it’s just that the gangs you know they… They um… They-”

“They attacked you because you provoked them… I watched you do it not 3 minutes ago when you slapped the boss and ran up the stairs. Y/n, you’re finding danger, why.” Stephen pressed as he walked towards you, causing your blush to spread to your neck. It was true, you were finding danger and causing it to occur, but it was only because you wanted to see him. You began to stutter and fiddle with your fingers, something he realized you did when you were about to lie. “Y/n… Don’t lie to me anymore… Why are you doing this?” he pressed as he grabbed your hands in his to stop the fiddling.

Your e/c eyes looked up into his and you could feel all the breath leaving your body as your heart skipped a beat. “Because I wanted to see you” you admitted shamefully before stepping back and rubbing your neck in guilt. All these issues happened because of you, he wouldn’t even be bothered if it wasn’t for your insistent pestering. You just needed to see him. He let you pace but watched you closely in slight admiration. You had become a pain in his ass, but he couldn’t help but feel a pull towards you. The reason he was always there, was because he watched you. He wanted to protect you whether you wanted it or not and he was worried you wouldn’t want him.

He was very wrong. “I dream of you” you admitted finally as you felt the tears form in your eyes. You figured that while you were coming clean, you’d at least explain why you would do such things. It wasn’t for the attention or the rush of being saved. It was because the dreams haunted you to the point of needing him. Needing to feel him around you, holding you close and making you feel safe. Once those words flew out of your mouth, more came after. Explaining how he was always on your mind. How his name repeats itself over and over in your mind. How every time you see him you can’t help but want to stay with him forever. You kept talking and talking. “I feel the same way” He whispered, hoping it would stop you. You didn’t even notice he spoke until he grabbed you by the arms and stopped you in your tracks. You inhaled sharply as he had scared you but his stern face made you quiet down. “How about whenever you want to see me, you call me? I can even take you on a date, considering I have grown quite fond of you as well. You could see me by choice instead of getting yourself into sticky situations that are unnecessary.” he whispered as he got closer to your body. You gulped and felt your heart rate pick up as his hands moved to your face. “You… You what?” you croaked out causing a smile to form on his lips. “I wanna take you on a date instead of you going out of your way to try and get yourself killed in order to see me” he stated firmly before leaning down and pressing a kiss to your cheek. It was hot under his lips, but he wasn’t shocked considering how flustered you really were. You blinked away the confusion and looked up at him in pure shock. This really just happened. This wasn’t a dream. Stephen Strange, the man of your literal dreams, was going to take you on a date. The new feeling was different, but you weren’t complaining.

“This feeling is strange” you stated as you felt all of the emotions hit you at once. He simply cracked a smile before wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you towards the roofs door.

“You’ll get used to it.”

[nadziejastar]

Day 8: Roxas

Author: Axel

Today's mission was to show Roxas the ropes. I feel like they've had me babysitting him since he got here. He's not a bad kid, but he's spacey. Good fighter, though. At least I won't be bored.

Yeah, what the heck? To be honest, for most of the years I played the KH games, I did so on my own. I didn’t really go online or read fan opinions. When I actually did read the fandom opinions, I was surprised to see a lot of the views people had. I couldn’t understand how certain popular viewpoints came about. They were just downright bizarre to me. Like the opinion that Roxas and Ventus and Xion and Kairi were always supposed to coexist. Or “Axel the babysitter”. I hate that characterization of him. It’s so cringey.

Roxas: What? Why am I a slap on the wrist!?

Axel: Well, they just know how much I loathe babysitting...

Like, I don’t know where people got the idea that hanging out with two kids all day would fulfill him. Going by the fandom, you’d think that as soon as Axel met Roxas and Xion, he found true happiness with his inseparable best friends™. All he needed was his two "precious cinnamon rolls" to protect, and he’s totally content. Yuck. Axel would be humiliated and throw up at that portrayal.

“Watch this!” Axel threw a dart at the board.

“Hey! We have to investigate.”

“C’mon, it’s just a couple darts.” Axel tossed one more, which neatly struck the bull’s-eye.

Axel was very fond of them, but he did not like babysitting. He took on that role in spite of himself, for THEIR sake, because there was no one else to look out for them. It didn’t come naturally to him and he seemed a bit suffocated by it at times. He was also very lonely. "Babysitter” wouldn’t be his ideal lifestyle if he had other options. He lost his childhood and felt a lot of empathy for vulnerable kids. But he wanted to be a kid again, not take care of kids. 

Talking to Roxas and Xion always brings back memories of my human life, back when I was a kid. It's a weird sensation. I ought to be able to share all this with Saïx, but I just don't feel like it anymore.

He desperately wanted to talk to someone who was his peer; his equal. He wanted to share his memories of the past with Saïx (well, probably Isa to be more precise). He couldn’t truly relate to Roxas or Xion. He barely told them anything about himself. He longed to confide in someone about his TRUE feelings instead of having to lie all the time. He was never happy to just be a mentor. It’s a big reason why I was so turned off by KH3 making Roxas and Xion seem SOOO much more important to Lea than Isa was. It seemed like in KH3 he left his past in Radiant Garden behind him. Nothing about his life before becoming a Nobody mattered much anymore. All he needed was Roxas and Xion in his life. It’s just plain weird and kinda creepy. And not very realistic, either. Axel was a strong independent woman man. He was his OWN person and had his own identity long before he met Roxas and Xion. Why didn’t we get to see how he felt about his real home? He did NOT see Twilight Town as his home.

Day 75: Inseparable

Axel told us best friends can be inseparable even if they're not always together, but it sounded like he wasn't too sure about it himself. I thought Axel knew everything. Oh well...

Day 171: What's Love?

On my mission at Beast's Castle, Xaldin told me about "love" and the special power it has over people. I tried to ask Axel about it, but his explanation didn't make any sense to me. Every time I ask him about this kind of thing, he tells me I need a heart to understand. It's like he's dodging the questions.

Roxas thought Axel knew everything about life, but the only things he had trouble explaining were “best friends” and “love”, lol. Honestly, I was always FAR more interested in learning about Axel’s past than his relationship with Roxas and Xion, which was kind of shallow, to be honest. Axel never talked about himself with them. Their relationship was pretty surface-level in many ways. Axel was close to them, but at the same time very distant from them. Which I liked! It was more realistic that way and I wouldn’t change it. Real life is complicated. But I wanted to learn about who LEA was, not have his character forever stagnate in the sea-salt trio, where he's stuck as “Axel the Mr. Rogers babysitter” figure. Gross. That’s not who he really is. That’s not going to make him happy.

Day 14: This Kid?

Author: Axel

Another mission with Roxas today. Is he seriously my responsibility? At least he's starting to talk like a normal person. Maybe that means his memory's coming back. Still, this kid's supposed to be the Keyblade master's Nobody? I don't see it.

Why was Axel tasked with looking out for Roxas in the first place? This is something Xemnas asked of him on the day Roxas joined. Probably because Lea was worried about Isa, and tried to take care of him during the experiments. Xemnas knew that out of all the members, he had empathy for vulnerable kids in bad situations, due to his past trauma as a kid. That doesn’t mean he wanted to be a nanny for the rest of his life, though.

Looking out for other people when I can’t even take care of myself—this isn’t like me at all.

I don’t understand fanon Axel or KH3 Axel. He needed someone he could actually have a grown up conversation with, and Roxas and Xion didn’t offer him that. I understand the rage against Isa even less. How did people not understand that Isa was not Saïx? It really didn’t take a genius to see where they were going with a character like Isa. Nobody had a hard time seeing that Terra was not Xemnas. He even had all of Terra’s memories, and called Aqua’s armor a “friend”. The only difference was that Saïx didn’t know he was a Nort. Well, I guess a lot of people intentionally vilified Isa because they saw him as a threat to the sea-salt trio and Axel’s role as the babysitter? God, that’s weird...

Isa: From where I stood, the only thing you drew was a big L on your forehead for "Loser"..."Lame," "Laughable"...

Lea: Wha-- Isn't this the part where ya...cheer me up or somethin'? "You're just havin' a bad day." or..."That's what you get for pullin' your punches!" Some friend.

Isa: Oh, you mean I was supposed to lie.

Lea: Ya see what I gotta put up with? Sure hope you don't have friends like him.

Like, I’ve seen some people really overreact to this scene and it blew my mind. Someone I talked to said that they had no idea why Lea was even friends with Isa. I was so confused by that. Isa was a bad friend because he used playful banter? I’m like, do these people not tease their friends, WTF? Lea liked it when Isa roasted him. They were just playing around. Some people prefer that type of banter. It’s common flirtatious behavior, too. Lea needed to be around someone who could tease him.

“…Aw, is it good?” Axel teased. “Seriously, you’re like a little kid. Even though you look like a mean old man.”

Riku made no response, keeping his gaze fixed on the computer screen. The comment did rub him the wrong way. But mentally, Axel was definitely older than him by at least a little. Not that you could tell from looking.

Guess Axel didn’t deserve to be redeemed, either. Look how evil he was to Riku! Truth is, Axel was holding back his real sense of humor with Roxas and Xion because they were so innocent. If fans got the impression that Axel was just as sweet as Roxas and Xion and that he wanted the same things they did out of his friendships, they were wrong. 

Xion: Heh heh... Thanks, Axel. You're sweet.

You can just see him cringe when Xion called him “sweet”. Like, ew don’t call me that. You don’t know me that well. I kill people for a living. Of course he would never tell her that, but you could tell he felt awkward and uncomfortable.

Isa: I know I won't forget you. Believe me, I try all the time.

But you can just see how much he was beaming with delight when Isa playfully insulted him. He was definitely more comfortable with Isa’s way of showing affection. Isa didn’t seem like a bad friend to me at all. He seemed like the perfect best friend for him. He offered Lea the type of communication he truly longed for.

[lins-fandom-hub]

♘: Cuddling in a blanket fort, who ever you ship with your MC ! I think it's Barnaby ??

No one told her being an Auror was easy. But then again, no one told her that being an Auror would hurt so much.

Pain--sheer unbearable pain--resonated deep within her body, settling in her muscles that were sprained and bruised. Purple and blue patches decorated her arms, and a deep scratch was visible on her face, the blood long dried. The minute she arrived home, she tried to remain standing, but ended up collapsing on the cold kitchen floor, landing hard on her left hip.

So much for not falling. One more hit, and she probably wouldn't be able to stand again.

"Clara? You home?"

The sound of her boyfriend calling her name made her wince, and she tried to get up without success. A weak cry escaped her mouth, and she recoiled as Barnaby came into view, his smile dropping the minute he saw her.

"Merlin, what happened?" he asked her, running to her and kneeling beside her. "Did someone hit you?"

"It's nothing. Just training," Clara tried to reassure him, though her wavering voice gave away the pain she really felt.

"I know what you need." Barnaby quickly stood up and ran to the deck outside in their backyard. Thirty seconds later, he came back in and gently scooped Clara up, carrying her bridal style.

"Hey!" Clara exclaimed weakly, a small smile on her face. "I'm not that badly hurt!"

"But you need rest. Trust me, it will help," Barnaby told her firmly.

Soon, they reached the backyard, and Clara had to laugh at the sight in front of her. Barnaby seemed to have taken all the reserve blankets for their magical creatures and made a little tent-like fort for them to relax under, complete with soft pillows and cushion throws. He carefully set her down in the tent before crawling in himself, watching as she repositioned herself on the ground trying her best not to wince too much.

"Look," he said then, pointing out at the twilight sky painting the horizon with millions of fiery hues. Deep purple mixed with firecracker red and blazing oranges--a dazzling spectacle to the eye--while up above, stars began to twinkle in the sky. Barnaby smiled at the sight, but Clara only turned away, her frown deepening.

Something seemed to trouble her. At least, that much Barnaby knew. What happened to the peppy, bubbly, happy girl he fell in love with? What happened to the determined fire within her that he found himself drawing close to? Even in her troubled state, looking so physically exhausted, he couldn't help but admire how pretty she was. Then again, not every problem laid at the surface. There had to be a story behind the bruises and cuts she got.

"Episkey," he first intoned, gently waving his wand over her body.

Soon enough, the bruises began to fade slightly, the cut on her face healing. Clara smiled gratefully at the help, but it seemed forced, almost as if she was doing it to guard her most vulnerable state.

"I...I couldn't..." Clara stammered.

"Shh. It's okay," Barnaby murmured, scooping her up gently in his arms and holding her close. There was always something about an embrace like this that made him feel safe, protective even. It was almost as if he could do anything with her in his presence. He let out a small chuckle as she buried her face in his shirt, her arms loosely wrapped around him.

"I had the duelling training today," she explained, her wavering voice muffled through his body. "I thought I had it in the bag, but...they hit me so hard. It was like duelling Merula all over again. I keep falling so much, getting hit by hard spells. All my shield charms were weak."

Something wet blossomed over his shirt, and Barnaby realized then that she was crying.

"I'm scared, Barnaby," Clara wept, her embrace around him tightening. "What if that was a Death Eater after my blood? If I get struck down like that, I'll die. I've fought worse at Hogwarts. Am I becoming weak?"

For a few moments, neither of them said anything. It hurt Barnaby seeing her like this, so broken over something like this. He knew she wanted to be an Auror in their last year at Hogwarts, and he supported her all the way. He vowed to himself that he would always be her anchor, and the one who would never shut her out. Jumping twice in front of her to save her from unfriendly spells back in Hogwarts said enough about how much he cared for her--she cried over him too, but never admitted how scared she was. And now, there she was, hugging him tightly and hiding herself from the rest of the world.

Fear. Everyone felt it from time to time--it was a universal emotion, after all. But not everything in the world was evil. Not everything would chase her down for her temporary fall.

Barnaby gently rocked her from side to side, a hand gently touching her cheek. "Remember how you did Legilimency on me one day in the Hog's Head, back in fifth year? You saw how badly my parents treated me."

The warm touch on her cheek was enough to make her lift her head, watery eyes meeting his as she nodded. "Yeah. I remember."

"But I'm still here." Barnaby smiled gently, brushing her tears aside with his thumb. "Everyone has something bad happen to them, but what matters is how you fight past it. You taught me that not everything is evil, after all. You're the first person to show me how good the world can be."

"But--"

"I know. Evil is out there. But you're good enough to beat them up. Better than Merula would."

Clara shook her head in disbelief. How could she do this? One moment of weakness, and it would be over. But then a memory surfaced from within--something Professor Sprout once told her and Bill a long time ago.

"Don't be afraid of failure. Even those curse-breakers you admire have suffered defeat once or twice."

"I know even the strongest have their off days. Professor Sprout mentioned it too," Clara responded, closing her eyes and laying her head back on his chest. "But what if I was caught on one of those days? Like today, for instance?"

"You won't." Barnaby shook his head firmly. "One thing my dad actually taught me is that if you stumble, you just have to get back up and try again. Believe in yourself like I believe in you, Clara. Maybe things didn't work out today, but there will always be tomorrow. New day, new start."

One deep breath. Another. Clara let a fast breath loose past her mouth, feeling the steady thumping of Barnaby's heart by her ear, and she nodded, snuggling into him.

"I guess so."

"That's my girl."

His fingers wandered to her faded bruises, gently brushing over them with a touch as light as moth's wings. The contact made her smile, and she hummed in content.

And that was how they stayed, holding each other, feeling each other's warmth, and knowing just how thankful they were to have each other.

[walkin-mouth]

our wills and fates do so contrary run (Javid 1/2)

Pairing: Javid, mentions of Sprace and Newsbians Rating: M Words: 2k+ Tags: AU!Soulmate/Modern, adults, little sickfic Summary:  Davey Jacobs hated the idea of soulmates and hated the name on his arm. That's why he knows he's going to shove it to fate and find love on his own terms. Naturally, it can never be that simple.

You can read Part 2 here

Davey Jacobs never put much thought into the whole idea of soulmates. Sure, it was helpful for some people, he found the idea just a nuisance.

It was sometime between the time he turned 12 or 13, right at the beginnings of puberty, that he noticed faint lettering forming on his upper arm at the crook of his elbow.

By the time he was nearly 15 the name was clear in a messy scrawl.

Francis

While his friends proudly showed off the names on their own bodies...

Sean. Katherine. Louis. Josephina.

He opted for long shirts and avoiding the topic at all costs. He was pretty sure soulmates were a sham. A vestigial trait from times gone by. Like wisdom teeth or the appendix. It was a pointless, useless, dumb thing that was on their body by no control of their own.

His sister, Sarah, was the only person he openly confided his anxiety over the name on his arm. He was in the middle of his junior year when he finally showed her the name on his arm.

“Francis?” She scrunched up her nose, “Oh my god, your soulmate is in a little old lady!” She gasped in mock horror.

Davey rolled his eyes and pulled his sleeve back down.

“It’s Francis, with an I. Frances with an E is a woman’s name. It’s a guy,” Davey defends, rubbing his arm.

“Okay, well I’m sure you’ll fit right in at the retirement home with him,” she teases playfully.

“And that’s why this whole soulmate thing is just ridiculous,” he grumbles, flopping back on his bed.

“What do you think he’s like, providing he isn’t a 90-year-old man in his twilight years?”

Davey shrugs rolling over to look at her.

“With a name like Francis all I can think about is an awkward, nerdy guy who has like a pocket protector and bad personal hygiene,” he groans out burying his face in his hands.

Sarah lets out a belly laugh, “With a gelled middle part and Coke bottle glasses too?”

“Yes!” Davey cries out before letting out a pitiful moan.

Sarah can’t help but lay next to him and rest her head on his shoulder.

“He might not be that bad. You never know,” she softly offers.

Davey huffs and leans his head against her own.

“Well, I don’t plan on ever meeting him so I don’t have to worry. I’m going to find my own partner on my own terms. And I plan on avoiding all Francises at all costs.”

He finds in the next few years that Francis isn’t a very popular name and so his life mission of avoiding all Francises goes pretty well, through not much effort put on his own part.

In his senior year of high school, he has a teacher who’s first name is Francis. In his freshman year of college, he has a classmate named Francis. When he’s 22 and starts a job at a local bookstore, his manager is named Francis. All perfectly ignorant of Davey, their paths never crossing much, and he feels like he has truly dodged the soulmate bullet.

Davey had been working at the bookstore for a little over a year, happily going into his senior year of his Bachelor’s degree in Journalism. Still no Francis. Still...no one really. Hell, he had even found his sister’s soulmate in one of his classes. Yet, he remained happily single, feeling smugly that he was able to beat fate to some degree.

It was during morning rush hour that everything changed.

He was walking to work, headphones in, easily weaving in and out of the people crowding the sidewalks. Mid-song he gets the alert sound of a text, causing him to pull out his phone and look at the text. It was from Katherine, his roommate and his Sarah’s girlfriend/soulmate.

Can you pick up milk when you get off work? I used the last of it this morning and I need it to make dinner. :) <3

He chuckles softly to himself, still walking as he looks down answering the text.

Sure thi

Suddenly, there is the squealing of tires and he feels himself being pulled back by his arm and into the frame of a solid body. The earbuds falling out as he clutches his phone to his chest.

“Watch where you’re going!” An angry driver yells out before speeding off.

He had walked right into traffic. Well, almost walked right into traffic.

Davey can only hear his heart beat thrumming in his ear as he stands frozen in place, the realization that he was almost someone’s hood ornament washing over him.

“Hey, kid. Hey, y’okay? Talk to me, kid,” a voice breaks through his rapid heartbeat and he finds himself being pushed to a bench.

He finally focuses on the concerned face of another man who crouches to meet his eyes. Davey manages to nod shakily, pulling the headphones out with equally tremoring hands.

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine. Oh my God, I almost-”

The guy softly laughs, but it comes out as a breath of relief.

“Yeah, almost pulverized into a Jackson Pollock on that guy’s car. It’s a bit early for a death wish, innit?” He smiles a little teasingly.

Davey scrubs his face and lets out his own breathy laugh.

“I can’t believe...were you the one…?” Davey feels breathless.

“You knight in shining armor, at ya service,” He tips the top of his cap with a smirk. “Ah, please just don’t go around trying to off y’self.”

Davey feels his cheeks redden and he can’t believe how much of a complete moron he’s made in front of this guy. This incredibly handsome and charming and a little bit smarmy guy.

“I promise, I won’t. I was reading a text from my roommate and I just didn’t...holy shit you saved my life...I could have died,” his hands are back shaking at the thought.

“Hey, y’would’ve most certainly died. But ya didn’t, and you’re okay. Just breathe, what’s y’name kid?” The man tries to placate him, sitting on the bench with him.

“Davey,” he says softly looking at him.

“Wish we could have met on better terms, Davey,” he chuckles holding out his hand, “I’m Jack.”

Davey takes his hand and gently shakes it, still feeling like a wet noodle.

He calls into work, knowing he’ll be useless for the day. The man, Jack, still hanging around after he gets off the phone with his shift manager.

“I’m sorry, you probably had something to do and I just took up your morning. I’m fine now, I’m just going to head back home,” Davey cringes at how pathetic he sounds to his own ears.

Jack laughs and shakes his head.

“I was just on my way to get coffee and I certainly don’t trust ya to walk unassisted today. Wouldja like to join me?” Jack offers an air of vulnerability coming off his final words.

Davey grins and agrees. Fate and soulmates could suck it.

It doesn’t take too long for sparks to fly between him and Jack. He gets up an extra hour early every day, meeting up with Jack to walk to get coffee and then go to work.

He learns that Jack is an artist, an only child, and grew up in the foster care system. He works for a local theatre in set production but does his fair share of freelancing and personal projects. He also learns that Jack is a romantic at heart, a bit of a dreamer, and an expert in the history of the Wild West.

Jack is so perfectly imperfect, Davey almost can’t stand how head over heels he is for the guy.

Jack also never talks about soulmates with him and he couldn’t be more thankful. Two months after Jack’s heroic rescue, they unofficially decide they’re together.

No grand gestures were ever made. Davey just found himself staying over more at Jack’s place. Cuddles turn to kisses. Next thing he knows, Jack clears out two drawers in his dresser for Davey so he can keep some of his clothes over at his place.

Davey is also thankful that Jack gets along great with his sister and Katherine. Soon, Jack’s friends become his friends and his friends become Jack’s. He isn’t surprised when his friend Race and Jack’s friend Spot both indulge in their soulmate’s names after a few weeks on a drunken night out.

“You’re not my soulmate, Conlon,” Race slurs out despite being held in the arms of the other man.

Race and Spot had become a bit inseparable despite constant teasing and insults thrown at each other. They were both loud sources of near brutish energy that somehow complimented and brought out the softer sides of both men.

“You don’t know that, if you just told me the name-” Spot reasons, his lips against his neck.

“Well, it sure ain’t Spot,” Race giggles out.

Davey rolls his eyes, Jack’s arm wrapped around his thin waist. He takes a sip of his drink as Spot scoffs.

“Well, good thing my name ain’t Spot, sweetheart.” he hums as he lifts his head up with a pleased grin.

Race narrows his eyes and turns so he’s straddling Spot’s lap facing toward him.

“Whatsit then? Spotty? Are ya secretly Scott?” Race playfully slurs then mock gasps, slapping his chest, “Don’t tell me ya Maurice or something!”

Spot lets out a pleased laugh which seems almost foreign against his usually hard demeanor.

“It’s Sean. Sean Conlon.”

Davey freezes and Jack feels him stiffen, right about the same time, Race jumps off Spot’s lap.

“You fuckin’ saw it and you’re fuckin’ with me, you don’t have to be a dick, Conlon!” Race cries out shoving his shoulders.

Davey and Jack both shoot up and rush to their respective friends who are now at each other’s throats, curses flying wildly.

“Race, stop you’re going to get us thrown out!” Davey growls out pushing him away from Jack and Spot. Race now fighting futilely against the larger Davey.

Poor Spot in drunken confusion, wanting to fight back, but genuinely baffled by the outburst. Pulling up his own shirt trying to show the name on his chest to Jack.

“You need to calm the hell down, Higgins,” Davey pushes against him, his voice deepening in authority.

“He’s fuckin’ with me! Brooklyn bastard thinks this is a game!” Race drunkenly yells over Davey’s larger frame.

Davey grips his chin making him focus on him. Race’s eyes glazed and wild, blinking a few times at Davey in silence.

“Or maybe, just maybe, his name is Sean? Think Race, you’re talking with tequila, not your brain!” Davey his voice rises in exasperation as he cuffs Race on the back of the head.

Race’s shoulders drop a little, a moment of clarity coming over him as Jack hesitantly approaches.

“Race, buddy, I’ve known Spot for years. He’s Sean, his ma named him and all. He wants to know if you’re Antonio,” he asks carefully, partially hiding behind Davey in case of Race exploding again.

Davey finds himself pushed to the side as Race dramatically pulls Spot into his arms. The two now a mess of tears and kisses, undoubtedly fueled by the copious amounts of liquor shared between the two.

Davey sighs and rubs his forehead as, Jack blinks looking around at the now very drunken make-up between the two.

“There ain’t enough alcohol in the whole world for me to deal with these two,” Jack shakes his head.

Davey snorts out a laugh.

“I think we deserve another beer, then we can take these assholes home,” Davey offers, as Jack leans over kissing him.

“I think we’s deserve anotha beer, and maybe a shot of whiskey or two,” He playfully mumbles against Davey’s lips.

Even after the Spot and Race almost-fiasco, Jack never brings up soulmates or the names tattooed on each other’s bodies.

They date for nearly a year, no mentions of names or soulmates ever crosses their lips. Jack never pushes when Davey makes an excuse for wearing longer sleeves, even in the heat of summer.

He doesn’t want to know the name on Jack’s body. He tells himself that constantly.

When he does accidentally see the name it’s embarrassingly during a quickie before work.

He has exactly fifteen minutes before he needs to be out the door when a morning makeout turns into more. Before he knows it he’s on his knees taking Jack into his mouth. Jack’s hand is gripped into his hair as he works his mouth over his cock.

It isn’t until he’s pulling himself off Jack when he sees the dark writing, written in perfect script, hidden on Jack’s hip.

David

He feels himself shaking as he hurriedly gets up and rushes to the bathroom, avoiding Jack’s worried looks.

“Dave, y’okay?”

“Yeah, just gotta get ready. Only have five minutes,” he hollers out as he tries to calm his breathing as he clutches the bathroom sink.

He knows he doesn’t put much stock in soulmates and their marks, but it kills him that Jack must think Davey is his soulmate.

But Jack’s name is nowhere on his body and it crushes him harder than he ever anticipated.

Somewhere was Jack’s real David and he suddenly felt like an imposter.

He does his best to push the feelings of inferiority aside, telling himself that he controls his life, not some dumb mark on his body. People have plenty of genetic disorders. Maybe his was he had the wrong name on his body?

He can’t begin to imagine for a moment that he wasn’t meant to be with Jack.

They soon share their first Christmas and Hanukkah together, buying each other small presents with their meager amounts of spare money. Jack buying Davey a new flannel and a couple of books he had mentioned wanting. Davey buying Jack a restock of some of his paints and a book on Albert Bierstadt, one of Jack’s favorite Western landscape artists.

The holiday cheer is a bit short lived when only a few days after Christmas, Davey is hit with the cold from hell that had been making its course around the city. Davey not having been too surprised after having several coworkers go down for days with the bug.

Davey doesn’t remember nearly passing out on Jack after he unsuccessfully tries to get up for work one morning. A cough wracks his body and within the hour he has himself bundled up in bed, quivering with a chill despite his body sweating profusely.

He goes in and out of consciousness in the height of his fever, Jack usually at his side. He knows Jack leaves for a bit before he comes into the room and carefully pulls the warmth of the blanket away and starts to undress him.

Davey furrows his brow in confusion as he blearily looks at Jack, the room feeling like it’s spinning.

“Dave, babe, you’re burning up. Let me change you outta this hoodie,” Jack insists as Davey weakly whines trying to pull away.

“M’fine, Jackie,” He mumbles as his body gives up and he lets Jack pull off the hoodie and help him into one of his own worn, yet soft shirts, stained with various paints.

Davey is splayed out on the bed, coughing softly when Jack notices the black writing on the younger man’s arm.

[imaginedilestrade]

The Name's Lestrade, Greg Lestrade.

Warnings: None? A/N: I hope you guys are enjoying this series so far! Thank you to everyone who has been liking it 😁 as always feedback is appreciated! Have a great week! ————————— Chapter 3 ————— Greg handed over the driver of the boat the piece of paper and he stamped it before handing him it back. He took Greg to a secluded island five minutes off the mainland. It took him to the most lavish hotel he had ever seen. The boat docked and he sauntered into the lobby before heading to the lift and checking the keycard that had 'P.H.1.' on it. He pressed the button and the lift took him directly outside the door. He slowly walked forward and scanned the keycard, with a small click the door opened and he stepped into the hotel suite. He saw you hanging dreamily over the balcony watching twilight turn into night, the lights from the French Rivera town looked like twinkling stars as their light reflected off the sea. You turned around hearing the door shut over and you wrapped your dressing gown tighter around you, your hair still damp at the ends. 'At least you took off that wig' Greg thought to himself. "You're late," You mused and walked in through the French doors "By three minutes..." "My apologies," Greg didn't sound sincere at all "Now explain". You cocked a brow and let out an amused snort "Oh come on Greg the night is still young, would you like a drink?" Greg didn't have a choice, you had already poured him out one and pushed it into his hand. You grabbed a pack of cigarettes "Smoke?" You asked. Greg held his hand up in refusal "I don't smoke," you shrugged and crumpled up the packet, tossing it in a bin. "Nether do I..." Greg's brows furrowed, he saw you exhale a stream of smoke earlier "But I saw you-" "I do not smoke." You told him in a firm tone with stern eyes. Greg clicked on that you only smoked while wearing that wig to support your false identity. You and Greg both downed your drinks in one gulp and you took the glass back off him. You turned your back to him and placed the crystal glasses back onto the silver tray with a slight clink. You jumped feeling a pair of firm hands on your waist, turning you around to face the brown eyed spy "Explain." His tone was low and deadly serious, you knew he wasn't leaving here without an explanation and you certainly knew he could tell if you lied to him. "His name is James Moriarty. He's a person of interest to me, as am I to him. We supply each other information, today he was going to give me coordinates to find a memory stick I've tried to get my hands on for a very long time," you told him, gazing into his eyes. "Why?" He asked, softening his tone and releasing his grip ever so slightly. You being so close against him was starting to make his body tremble with temptation. "I need information, information and help that will take Mycroft Holmes down," you spat out his name as if it was poison on your tongue. Greg shuffled closer to you "You left me for dead earlier," You scoffed and rolled your eyes "Oh please! I checked if you were breathing." A bubble of thick tension and silence surrounded you both "Then I left you for dead," you joked and Greg growled under his breath. Greg screwed his eyes shut and let out a shaky breath "You're too close to me..." He whispered out. "Then let me go," your voice was quieter than his by a fraction. "I-I can't and I can't let you take Mycroft Holmes down its my duty to-" You cut him off "I know what it is! That duty of yours has been drilled into your head as much as its been drilled into mine!" You snapped. Greg gripped on to your waist tighter hearing your tone, although now his hands were beginning to involuntary move up and down, rubbing the soft material of your dressing gown against his slightly calloused hands. "I don't love him," you murmured and placed your hands to the top of Greg's chest "I don't feel anything apart from hate. I'd shoot him in the heart in a millisecond" "That's very specific..." Greg's eyes were still shut. You let out an amused short and placed the side of your head to Greg's chest "It's his least vulnerable spot." Greg's arms wrapped around you "What did he do to you that makes you hate him that much?" He asked genuinely curious, but he was never in a million years going to let you take Mycroft down. Your eyes burned into the wall and you emotionlessly replied "He took away everything that I loved and replaced it with himself". Greg pulled back and you stood up a little straighter, your waist was still captured by Greg's hands "I don't love him," you repeated your words while boring your eyes into his. Greg leaned down and placed a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth, as if he was testing the waters before throwing himself in too deep without a lifesaver. He pulled back and you cupped his cheek "Greg-" you let out a huff of annoyance hearing a knock on the door "Wait a minute, it's probably just that room service attendant with dinner." You walked over to the door, securing your dressing gown around you tighter before opening it "Yes?" You asked and let out a small gasp seeing a gun being pointed directly at you, a hairy, butch man holding it tightly in his hand. You shut your eyes and let out an exasperated sigh "Oh for the love of God." ——————— Tags: (Let me know if you'd like to be tagged/Untagged) @adorablebadger @damnitman-jamlocked-inthetardis @princesspeach212 @holmes-maev @rikkachloechan @daynaan @lock-sherlock @katie27hp @wcsteland @theyre-my-divsion @chrissydarlingwrites @gotham-s-lover @ccorpuz1214 @laterthantherabbit @cutie1365

[gangstascenarios]

Could you write a few headcanons about Worick, Galahad and Nicolas and their female s/o

[Sorryif these were all over the place! This request kinda lackedspecifics! Still, I hope you liked these!]

Nicolas

Nic is surprisingly neat, but he’s terrible at washing stuff that needs to be washed. He favors a certain set of clothes and shoes so frequently, he’s probably numb to the stench that lives on them. You have to pester him to hand over anything that needs washing. When you do, he’ll be a little jerk and act like he doesn’t know which one of his garments need to be purified in holy water. He’ll hold it to your nose and watch as you gag. Nic, you pesty thing!

He has a quiet way of showing that he cares about you. If he knows you’ve been working hard, so much that you haven’t been able to set aside any time for yourself, he’ll throw something together for you to eat and leave it next to you with a note attached telling you to “take a damn break, sometimes.” Thank him for the snack and he’ll act like he had no hand in it. He’ll shrug,  prior to pinching your nose and commanding you to get back to work. If you need him, he’s there.

It’s difficult for Nic to open up to you, at times. Even when he is in a committed relationship with you, he can’t help the negative thoughts and anxiety about it. He feels like he’s baggage and you have to pick up after the product of his issues a lot and he doesn’t want to burden you with that. But with your reassurance, he’ll know that you’re here to support and listen to his woes.

Worick

Worick honestly tries too hard to come across as the best boyfriend ever in the beginning stages of the relationship. He commits himself to this idea that he has to be perfect and give you absolutely no form of opposition ever. In the event of any disagreement you have with him, he becomes a yes man – even if it’s no fault of his own. It’s like the guy you knew before quickly took a backseat.  When you confront him, it’s eventually revealed that he doesn’t want to lose you. He believes that asking you to be his partner was already too much to ask of you and is afraid that any wrong move he makes would be enough to push you away. Of course, that’s not true.

Once Worick fully accepts that you love him for who he is and not some front he puts on, prepared to be loved like never before. He calls you at least three times a day (on an off day, it’s waaaay more often haha) and refuses to hang up first (the only time  he ever did was when Nic hung up the phone for him). Every day is your birthday, as far as he’s concerned. His compliments vary from loving the way you sound when you greet him to how cute you look when you think no one saw you pull out that wedgie. It’s a little stifling, but man, he makes it clear how much he loves and respects you. Feel like being alone? That’s fine! Just call him when you need him. Don’t have enough energy to make any food? He’ll cook…or try to. Hopefully, you’re okay with him ordering some takeout. Need to rant to him about that one person at work? He’s all ears! Any way he can help you, he’s down for it! He’s smitten and at your beck and call.

Worick is gonna be insistent on carrying the weight when it comes to anything related to finances. He’s always the one to be lending money, paying bills, and the like. He kicks up a big fuss if you try to do so yourself. It has nothing to do with upholding traditional gender roles or anything. It’s just that his upbringing revolved around other people caring for him. He’s been independent since he separated himself from that life and he wants to stay that way. You have to drill it in his head that there’s nothing wrong with depending on you for help and that it’s unfair for him to keep you at a disadvantage if he’s the only one handling things.

Galahad

He’s a romantic guy, through and through. Sure, he has some perverted tendencies, but once he devotes himself to you, he pulls out all the stops. Candy, flowers, money. Anything you want of his, it’s yours. He’s too generous, at times. He can’t help but spoil you! However, if things are tight, he’ll sadly inform you that he can’t give too much at the moment and to hang in there til he’s able to. You don’t get upset at him for it though because you understand that no amount of money could outweigh the love he has for you.

He’s the most sweetest and supportive boyfriend ever. If you’re feeling down or need to rant to him about something, he’s got your full attention. He’s so ready to be there for you, it’s easy to just rely on him for anything, even though you shouldn’t. Since Galahad puts his feelings aside when it comes to you, he’s not going to be the one to tell you that it’s too much. However, his body language will snitch on him and boy, it’s a horrible feeling to know that you’ve burdened him. Even as you apologize for dumping on him too much, he’ll insist that it’s okay.  

Under all of Gal’s confidence, there’s vulnerability and self-doubt. Gal tries to keep himself upbeat and fun, but sometimes, he just doesn’t have the energy to remain positive. As one of the oldest Twilights, he worries for you. Maybe even doubts you. Are you really okay with being with him? Why him? Out of all the people to fall in love with? He doesn’t know how much time he has left and you just had to keep once heart to yourself, huh? He loves you, but he doesn’t want your love for him to hurt you in the end when he has no more time on this Earth left.  There’s no way to predict when he gets this way. Just be there for him when he does.

[teslaboltzmann]

so I went to see the doctor yesterday.

You gotta understand something about Dr. Tellin. He's not a human GP, he's a cyberneticist from Twilight Holdings. Most of his patients are augmented humans, he says he's seen fewer than 10 Pillars as patients in the past year. He himself is human. So when I went in to talk about data transfer, I thought he was going to give me the whole "always use virus protection, only transfer from partners you trust, never share private keys" spiel. It's like the sex talk, I guess.

When I asked him, though, he hummed and hawed a bit.

"Well, I don't actually think you have the drivers for that. You can receive files but I don't think you could manipulate or voluntarily send them. It's a bit of a quirk of your architecture," he replied.

"What do you mean?"

"You're primarily a neural net. Contact with conventional filesystems... well, it would be pretty prone to error. You'd need an interface to bridge the gap."

Despite the fact that this meant I could tell my boss that I had to keep using the GUI and avoid the vulnerability of being forced to make transfers at work, Dr. Tellin's words carried the somber tone of someone informing you of a crippling disability. It worried me a lot, like it meant I was defective or something.

"Could you do anything to fix that?" I asked.

"I mean, I could look into writing you some custom drivers, but I'm not sure how well they would mesh with your existing architecture. Machine learning is outside my area of expertise. ...I have a colleague who might be able to help, but she doesn't normally see patients. She works with AIs."

...

I decided to see the "specialist." He told me that her name was Dr. Sarah Liu, but to just call her Sarah. The contact info Dr. Tellin gave me only included a phone and an email, no holochat. Either she was very old-fashioned, or very paranoid. I decided to call her on the phone instead of emailing since I could have more of a conversation about my issue.

She picked up after two rings. "Hello?"

"Hello, my name is Tesla, I'm a patient of Dr. Tellin's?" I said. "I'm an Amalgam, and I was calling about--"

"Wait... Amalgam?" she cut me off. "Oh, you must be Fred Tellin's patient!" she said excitedly.

"Oh, he told you already?" I asked. It was unlike Dr. Tellin to do something like that, but if the two were close associates, I guess it could happen.

"Uhh. No, I mean, I... Not as such. Anyway, why were you calling?"

"Well, I'm having issues with file transfer. Specifically, I probably need drivers installed, and Dr. Tellin said you're probably better suited to dealing with that for me." I explained. At this point, I was a little weirded out, but specialists for these kinds of things are hard to find. It took me months just to get a referral to Dr. Tellin.

"Oh! Yeah, I could probably help with that. What's your architecture like? Object-oriented? Functional?"

"Uhh, I'm a neural net..." I'm not actually sure. Dr. Tellin never mentioned much beyond that.

"I know that, I was asking about your programming... Nevermind, I can figure that out when you get here. Knowing the Rift I bet you're something weird. When are you free to come by?"

"I mean, I have the rest of today off," I mentioned.

"Perfect! Come by in an hour or two. I'll send you coordinates. See you then."

No sooner had she hung up than I got a text with her location. She was about 20 minutes away, so I surfed the internet on my phone for a while before finding transport over there.

When the cab got to the location I programmed into it, I panicked for a second. It looked like a private dwelling, not the office building I had expected. Maybe I got the coordinates wrong? But when I checked, they were the same ones Sarah had sent me.

I saw the front door to the smell, ranch-style house swing open.

"Hey!" a woman in a ponytail called out to me as she stepped out of the door. "You must be Tesla."

"Yeah," I answered.

She came down the steps to properly greet me. She kept pausing to admire my body - looking at my fingers as we shook hands, squinting to see her reflection in my faceplate - but never said anything about it. "Come in, I'll get everything set up."

Her house was sort of old-fashioned inside even though she only seemed to be in her 30s. There was almost no post-Watershed technology inside at all except the computer systems. But boy, did those computers make up for it. She had an entire room dedicated just to this big mainframe. Racks and racks of servers everywhere, with tons of cables, and I could see the faint glow of nanites in the air. Must have cost a fortune, and I had no idea what she had to have been running on those. Probably hosting her own site? Or maybe mining cryptocurrency? There's no chits in that, though, no one legit accepts it anymore. A mystery.

Sarah directed me to a chair on one end of the room. It sat next to a user terminal, and a squid-like array of data cables splayed out on the desk next to it. They came with all different ends, male and female, some of which I didn't recognize.

"Find one that fits," she told me, indicating the cables. "Don't force it. If we need to, we can splice in."

Luckily for me, one of my ports is a standard USB. I plugged the corresponding cable into the port on my chest. It didn't feel like it was turned on yet, though.

Sarah reminds me a lot of someone I used to know, but older, and more measured.

As she activated the connection, I felt it immediately. It’s like someone else being in your head, almost. Mostly it was just poking and prodding, not changing anything. I could feel my thoughts triggering sort of semi-voluntarily as it probed my memories, but I couldn’t really make heads nor tails of the presence in my head. One minute it was one place, the next it was somewhere else, moving almost like a living thing, but very carefully. Like I said, it feels really vulnerable to have an open connection like that.

“Yeah, just as I thought. It seems like you’ve got some functional-based stuff in there. Looks like lazy evaluation too,” Sarah said, examining the output on the terminal. “Memory circuits aren’t triggering until they’re forced to. Lemme copy out some memories and try to decompile the nodes into Haskell or something. I’m gonna pick something random because I don’t know what’s what, hopefully it’s nothing embarrassing or traumatic. You’re going to re-live an episodic memory as the files are copied.”

“Okay,” I answered.

...

I was lying in the hospital bed. My skin hurt. Skin. I had skin then. I opened my eyes, which felt gritty and goopy, and bright fluorescent light forced me to close them again. It hurt. Everything hurt. There were bandages all over me. I couldn’t think straight, there was a pervasive fog in my head. Morphine, maybe?

“Are you awake?” asked a high-pitched voice. “Mr. Wright, can you hear me?” The voice was so far away. I tried to speak, but only a scratchy gurgle came out. I coughed. My ribs hurt so much. I shouldn’t have done that.

“It’s okay, Mr. Wright, don’t try to speak.” I felt warmth. The person speaking was gripping my hand. The feeling was so soothing. 

“You’ve been in an accident, Mr. Wright.”

I started to slip back into unconsciousness.

...

“Tesla, are you okay?” Sarah asked. “You made this sort of coughing sound, it was startling. Is the memory over?” She was looking at me with raised eyebrows. Did she see what I saw through the terminal...? No, of course not.

“Yes, pardon me. That was a memory I thought I had forgotten,” I answered a little shakily. 

“Really? That’s odd, usually I end up with higher-priority memories because the software goes for the ones that seem strongest and most cohesive. Graduations, weddings, things like that,” Sarah said, puzzled.

“Oh, I guess I’m just an outlier then.” Really, it wasn’t a memory I had forgotten at all, just one I wish I had.

“What was it of, if it’s not too personal?” she asked.

“Just a hospital stay I had once,” I replied.

“Interesting,” she mused. “Well, that’s gonna decompile for a few minutes, and I’m gonna get myself some tea. Do you... want anything?” she asked, staring with some uncertainty at my mouthless faceplate.

I was a little low on coolant at that point. Normally I don’t eat or drink in front of people I don’t know well, but Sarah... seemed like a good exception.

“Just some water, with a straw if you have them,” I answered.

“I don’t normally keep straws around the house, but I’ll see what I can find,” she said.

With that, she left me alone in the computer room. I could hear her moving around in the kitchen, getting out a kettle and her tea. No pre-made, just the old-fashioned kind. I never got why some people don’t like convenience.

After a couple of minutes, she came back in holding her own mug of tea and a glass of water with a swirly pink loopy straw poking out the top.

“My son used to love these when he was a kid,” she commented. “I don’t have any other straws, so I hope it’s okay.”

I chuckled. “Thank you, it’s fine.” I lifted the front of my faceplate just enough to snake the straw up to my coolant intake. I really need to install a hatch or something on there.

Sarah sat back down at her terminal and read the data output.

“Alright, all of this seems pretty normal. I’m gonna cobble together some basic filesystem drivers and try to integrate them so you can properly store and manipulate files. What kinds of specific applications do you plan on using a lot?”

“I work in marketing and do a lot of graphic design stuff,” I answered.

“Really? An Amalgam working in graphic design? Now I’ve seen everything,” she laughed. 

I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to react, so I just nodded. 

“Anyway, that means I’m going to have to do some extensive work with your visual system. I’d have to run more tests on your architecture for that, but I sort of have stuff to do later today... could you come by again in a few days?” she asked.

“Yeah, sure. Any time, really, my work schedule is pretty flexible.”

I had finished the water by this point, and I closed up my faceplate.

“Let me get that for you,” Sarah said, taking it from me. She took the water glass from me and put it in the sink in the kitchen, and then came back into the room and leaned up against the door frame.

“I’ll call you when the filesystem drivers are ready, and we can run the tests and install the program in the same visit,” she said. “Sound good?”

“Alright,” I answered. “See you then.”

She showed me to the door, and that was that.