#however i still think. cyanide would kill him

[lovevalley45]

i complained abt the cyanide death in that montage in ‘the fixed point’ bc like. you’re telling me sara’s powers also make her more resistant to poison??? however i have to say to that math,, she can no longer get super drunk

[magiccath]

The Doctor's licking habit

tenth doctor x GN!reader

summary: in which the Doctor's habit of licking things finally has consequences. Based on a request from the lovely @internet-stranger-says-hi

A/N: this is a rework of one of my older fics originally titled "Figure it Out" :)

The Doctor was a 900-year-old toddler. Sometimes, you felt more like a tired school teacher than a time-travel companion. 

“Do not put that in your mouth!” was something that you had never figured would frequent your daily vocabulary. It was his horrible habit - putting things in his mouth without thinking about it. Honestly, he could just scan stuff with the Sonic Screwdriver. But, no, he just had to lick it. It was almost a weekly occurrence that he would end up licking something. You had to be constantly alert to ensure he didn’t contract some space disease. 

Somehow, he had managed to evade any kind of consequences of licking strange objects. That was, until today. 

The Doctor needed to find a certain kind of space rock. However, he didn’t tell you that he needed to taste the rock to ensure it was the right one. Before you could stop him, he was lapping at a small rock he had found inquisitively. 

“Doctor!” you scolded, swatting the rock away from him.

“What?” He frowned, upset that you had distracted him from his studies.

“That could be some poisonous alien thing,” you emphasized the last word, distressed.

“It probably is,” he smiled like it was a good thing. You wanted to slap him.

“You’re gonna get yourself killed!” you scolded.

“It’s not like it’s coated in cyanide,” he shrugged, “which doesn't really affect me much anyway.”

“Are you saying it was poisoned?!”

“If you’d let me taste it again I could tell you for sure,” he pouted, eyeing the rock excitedly.

“I’m not letting you lick that thing again,” you furrowed your brow, moving the rock out of his reach.

He groaned, looking up at you with puppy dog eyes. As adorable as he looked, you weren’t going to let him put the rock in his mouth again.

“Absolutely not,” you commanded, frustrated. 

“If you let me taste it again I can tell you if it’s the rock I need,” he argued, still pouting at you. 

“The TARDIS can tell you that,” you said, turning on your heel to walk away from him.

He whined, trudging after you as you stomped back towards the ship. You loved the alien dearly, but he was too careless for his own good. He was convinced he was invincible, but he wasn’t.

“Please, just one lick?” he begged again as you opened the doors to the ship. 

“No,” you said for the hundredth time. 

You slipped through the blue doors, dragging the Doctor behind you by this sleeve. You stopped listening to his grumbles as you locked the doors behind you.

You felt his slender arms wrap around you, and his face came to rest against your shoulder. You stiffened under his touch. It wasn’t that you didn’t like the contact, more so the opposite. The Doctor had never touched you like this. He was a man of small touches: handholding and celebratory hugs. But never intimate cuddles like this. 

“You’re amazing,” he nuzzled into your neck. You shook him off of you begrudgingly, turning to face him with furrowed eyebrows. 

“If this is your tactic to get me to give you the rock, it isn’t working.” 

The Doctor’s eyes traveled to the object you were gesturing with, a look of confusion on his face. 

“I don’t want that thing,” he blubbered. You tilted your head, confused. 

“You were just begging me for it two seconds ago.” 

“I want you,” he tried to hug you again, but you evaded his touch. 

“What has gotten into you?” 

The Doctor mumbled a strand of incoherent words that you didn’t understand and moved to grab you again. You skirted out of his grasp, clutching the rock to your chest. You didn’t understand why he was acting like this. 

You looked down at the object in your hands. Without thinking about it too much you ran to the door and chucked the rock outside. You slumped back against the doors with a sigh, clenching your eyes shut in hopes it would fix things. 

When you opened them, the Doctor’s face was all you saw. He smiled the minute he made eye contact with you, eliciting a small yelp from you. 

You planted your hands firmly on his chest and pushed him backward so you could move past him. 

“Where are you going?” He whined, chasing after you again. You whipped your head back around, flabbergasted. Why on Earth was he acting like this?

“I’m taking you to bed,” you grumbled, “so you can sleep this off,” you gestured wildly with your hands. You couldn’t think of much else to do with the inebriated Time Lord.

“I’m fine!” he slurred, swaying slightly. 

You shook your head and took his hand, dragging him back towards his bedroom. Honestly, you didn’t get paid enough for this nonsense. You didn’t get paid at all!

“You’re beautiful,” the Doctor hummed as you dragged him through the corridors. 

“Shh,” you scolded, trying to navigate the winding hallways. You had enough trouble finding your own rooms, the Doctor’s were a whole other story. 

“I love you,” He said matter of factly. You stopped in your tracks, dropping his hand. Your brain struggled to catch up, still processing his words. You turned to look at him in shock. The Doctor didn’t say those words. He just didn’t. It was hard for him, being that emotionally vulnerable. He never said it, especially not to you.

“Stop it,” you laughed uncomfortably. He had to be messing with you now, and you really didn’t find it funny. Not at all.

“I love you,” he repeated, furrowing his brow in frustration. 

“No, you do not.” 

“Yes, I do.” 

“You’re drunk,” you explained. You weren’t sure if that was what was going on, but he was certainly affected in some way. 

You grabbed his sleeve again and dragged him down the hall, relieved to see his door at the end. 

“You need to sleep this off,” you said as you dragged him through it. 

He protested as you led him to bed, pulling back the sheets so he could crawl in. He was still grumbling as you tucked him in.

“‘M fine,” he mumbled, nestling his face into a pillow. He passed out a few seconds later, his soft snores already filling the room. You sighed and closed the door. 

It was about time that the Doctor’s recklessness caught up to him. After all of the things he had put in his mouth without thinking, you were surprised it had taken this long for one to elicit a bad reaction. You had just figured he’d get sick. Turn green or throw up. Something that you could handle. Unsolicited confessions of love weren’t exactly on your list of things you were prepared for the Doctor to do.

You decided to make use of the quiet in the TARDIS by cleaning up the control room. It could use a good mopping and declutter. Plus, it gave you time to think about the Doctor’s words. Clearly, he hadn’t meant any of it. It was just the unknown alien substance talking, right? Surly, the Doctor didn’t love you. 

You were wiping the console off, lost in thought, when the Doctor walked into the control room. 

“Hey,” he said, strutting his way over to you. You stopped your work and looked up at the Doctor wide-eyed. You had been so preoccupied, that you had almost forgotten he was in the other room.

“Hey,” you gasped, setting your cleaning supplies to the side. “How are you feeling?” 

“My head’s a little heavy, but other than that I’m quite alright,” he smiled. You looked away from him, embarrassed. 

“That’s good,” you said, more to the floor than the Doctor. 

“Can we talk about it?” he asked gently, his hand moving towards your arm. He decided it was best not to touch you, instead, he settled for resting his hand on the console next to you. 

“It’s ok,” you shook your head, “I know it was just the poison,” you looked at him with a pained smile on your face.

“We can just move on,” you said. 

“What?” The Doctor frowned.

You looked back at him, eyebrows furrowed. “Do you not remember?” If he had some kind of amnesia that might make this whole conversation a lot easier.

“No, I do,” he shook his head, “I just don’t want to move on.” 

You didn’t quite know what to say, so you just remained silent. 

“I really care about you,” he whispered, catching your eye. His honey-brown eyes glistened with a sadness that you knew all too well. 

“More than I have ever cared about anyone before,” he moved his hand slightly so it was brushing yours. Your eyes traveled to where your hands connected, and you found it hard to look away. 

The Doctor guided your face up gently so he could look at you. The feeling of his hand on your chin sent sparks through your body. 

“I’m sorry that it took some alien poison to get me to tell you,” he said earnestly. 

“It’s ok,” you whispered, hopelessly lost in his eyes. He let your chin go, his hand dropping down to his side. 

“I just wanted you to know that,” he said, looking away from you. He started to back away from you, and you acted on impulse. If the Doctor could make impromptu confessions of adoration, so could you.

You grabbed his tie and dragged him back towards you, crashing your mouth into his. He was shocked at first, but quickly relaxed into the kiss, his arms wrapping tightly around you. You felt safe and secure in his arms like you had finally found the place you were supposed to be. 

You pulled away for air, looking at his face adoringly. He really was the most attractive alien you had ever seen.

The Doctor pecked at your lips again and again, like he couldn’t quite get enough of you. 

“How do you know that I’m not poisoned?” you laughed.

“I don’t care in the slightest,” he said between kisses.

[surely-galena]

idk how often lead paint are used (if at all)

but for total shits and giggles, in the crackiest way possible, i imagine marius using lead paint, sometimes accidentally drinking the paint water

and then someone tries to assassinate him with poison and it doesn't do shit because as it turns out, the poison isn't as strong as lead and marius sort of built a tolerance to lead poisoning on accident.

cue assassin freaking the fuck out because the poison had no effect

idk where that came from

Hi Rose!! :D

I did some surface level research for this ask because I thought that lead paint wasn't used any longer, but that's actually a myth... just not in the way I thought it was. When I think of lead paint, my mind goes to historical artists who poisoned themselves through their paintings, but the articles I skimmed were all about lead paint used for industrial/homeowner purposes. There is, however, Lead White paint for artists, but this is pretty expensive because it isn't produced as much and there are safer alternatives for artists to use, too. Money isn't a problem for Marius, so let's say he ends up using the fancy lead white oil paint for his art.

I read through this transcript of an episode from This Podcast Will Kill You on lead poisoning (tw for discussions around child experimentation) and essentially, adults are at lower risk than children because they don't absorb as much lead into their system. Also, absorbing lead through inhaling it is much worse than ingesting it because it gets into your system through your lungs. So even if drinking lead paint water sounds bad (and likely is), it would probably be much worse if Marius had been exposed to lead dust. Both are still bad though!

Plus, since lead has a sugary taste, Marius would probably be able to identify that he was drinking paint water on his first sip (and hopefully spit it out). If he doesn't... then Marius what are you doing.

Now I couldn't find a good source on this, but according to this Wikipedia article on Mithridatism (building up an immunity to poison), it is not possible to build up a tolerance to heavy metals (e.g. lead). This makes sense to me, but take it with a grain of salt since I didn't find anything to back this up.

Also, in the scenario with the assassin, let's say that Marius did somehow have a tolerance to lead poisoning. The chances of the assassin using lead would be a lot lower compared to something fast and lethal (belladonna and cyanide immediately come to mind but you may have to fact check that). So Marius would have an immunity to a different kind of substance and would still end up getting poisoned.

But say that nothing happens to Marius, like you said, and the assassin starts freaking out (as they should). Then this implies that Marius has either knowingly or unknowingly been building up a tolerance to a different kind of poison than lead (which means he's been going through symptoms of mild poisoning over and over again), and not only that, he's been continuously poisoning himself to keep up that tolerance.

Who's responsible for that?? Vyn and Luke, in some attempt to save their friend before he gets assassinated in the future? Giann von Hagen, bragging about his tolerance to X poison to Marius and thus putting ideas into younger Marius' head? Payton, who somehow predicted what kind of poison future assassins would use???

I hope I didn't lose you with all that rambling, haha. It's still a great scenario even if I didn't focus on the comedy/crack part as much, thank you for the ask!!

[scorpius-major]

#class is now in session!

Ft: Hu Tao, Barbara, Zhongli, Childe, and Gn! Reader

College au!

in which each character gets their own major and school headcannons

𝙃𝙪 𝙏𝙖𝙤

Mortuary science major without a doubt

Gives off chaotic theater kid vibes as well

Has definitely brought an Ouija board to multiple different sleepovers on multiple different occasions

She’s that one friend that gives you oddly frightening fun facts. Facts that make you go “why does she know that?”

“Did you know that if you eat around 10 crushed black cherry pits there’s enough cyanide to kill you?”

Just leaves you sitting there like ma’am how do you know that?

Hu Tao would peer pressure you into joining theater with her

If you have stage fright she’d find a way to expel it from you

In class she can be very committed to work

If you sit next to her however, that’s a different story

has surprisingly good grades ngl

you sometimes wonder how she keeps up with the work while simultaneously goofing off in class

it frightens you sometimes

like she was dead asleep in class one time and nothing would wake her up

until the professor asked her a question

She sat up really quickly and answered it correctly

you just stared at her like🤨

needless to say you quickly stopped questioning her abilities as a student after that

Barbara

choir kid without a doubt

like no explanation needed

no fr barbs literally has the most angelic voice you’ve ever heard

you probably met in a music theory class

let me just tell you this lady is the most respectful roommate EVER

omg her room is always so clean and tidy it’s just like

miss please teach me your ways I beg🧎🏾‍♀️

stright A student without a doubt

her classes are probably all honors too

with the occasional AP

Not exactly a “teacher’s pet” but like is always willing to help them out

She probably becomes a teacher’s aid at one point

please let her tutor you, she loves it

Ayaka

Dancing major without a doubt

she’s taking a business class too

and also studies traditional Japanese calligraphy

listen I didn’t wanna be the one to say it but

she was the kid who reminded to teacher they had homework in middle school

IT JUST MAKES SENSE💀

if you’re a dance major too, she will always partner with you

another respectful af roommate

she cooks too

and it’s absolutely delicious

like she will cancel any takeout you order and will cook herself

another star student

it always surprises you how she can keep up her grades with her 17 different extracurricular activities

Zhongli

let’s be honest he probably is the professor💀

he’d teach world history without a doubt

that or AP English

i can’t see him as a math teacher

most def the teacher that everybody loves

he’s well aware too

i like to think he takes a little pride in being “the coolest teacher”

yeah let’s be honest he probably subtly humble brags ab it in the teachers lounge😭

he’s also the teacher that everybody trys to guess his age and terribly fails at it lmao

Struggles a LOT with technology

when he first tried to use a smart board he got so frustrated he never used it again

probably the only teacher who still uses textbooks and whiteboards

back in his college days I can kinda see him being a philosophy major

but he changed career choices and became a professor instead

Childe

STILL hasn’t figured out his major lmao💀

he fr changes it like every 3-5 business days

without a doubt he got in on a sports scholarship

med avg grades

i can see him struggling in math idk he just seems like the type of guy I can’t explain it

another one who is a really awesome cook

hes probably involved in a frat house ngl

if you’re roommates expect little to no sleep

heavy college fuckboy vibes

but in an endearing way

idk this is really random but in grade school he was the kid at the water fountain who would say “one, two, three, that’s enough for me” whenever someone was more than three seconds

He also would pick a fight with the 8th graders when he was in like 3rd and after he lost he’d tell his friends that he beat up an 8th grader

def a partier

he’d drag you out to parties late at night

but he always makes sure your comfortable and safe at them

love a respectful man fr

please help him in math he’s begging

[conflictandscotchblog]

A Long Overdue Salute to the Colonel

Recently, I received a friend request on FACEBOOK from a woman whose name I did not recognize.

She then sent me a message that she worked with me at the COLONELS GARTER (trust me, it’s a name of a bar name from the eighties) and I immediately accepted. You don’t ignore a voice from the past.

After a short text message exchange, I thought about my time in that job. Made me think, ‘I should write a blog post about it’.

So, Carol, thank you for the inspiration; this blog’s for you.

Author’s Note: What follows is my memory, it may be right, it may be wrong, but it’s mine. In addition, I may not use names for two reasons:

One – to protects someone’s anonymity.

Two – I just don’t remember their names.

In the late seventies, early eighties, there were a string of bars that peppered New Jersey, they all began with the name Art Stock’s (insert name of bar here).

Art Stock, as far I as knew, was a school teacher, that somehow became the ‘name’ of a series of bars in the state. I worked in two ‘Art Stock’ bars, the Royal Manor North, and the Colonel’s Garter.

By far, the better bar was the Colonel’s Garter.

To be clear, I was a bouncer, not a bartender. Worked the door, roamed the floor, stood by the stage while the band played (maybe that’s why I have lousy hearing). It was a very casual atmosphere. For instance, even though the drinking age was still eighteen, sometimes patrons would enter who ‘forget their IDs’.

My reply?

“Just open your wallet,” I would say, “show me something. A picture of your dog, your favorite Aunt, I don’t care, just show me something’.

To which they would, and I’d let them in.

Air Guitar was big back in the early eighties. For those unenlightened, basically you stood on stage while a song played, and mimicked playing a guitar. Each week, The Garter (as we called it) had an air guitar contest.

Some would get into it, jump up and down on the stage, one arm circling the imaginary instrument.

However, that was nothing compared to what a friend I’d known since high school did one night.

He walked up on stage, the music started, and he played air guitar. When the song ended, he took a bow, then pulled up his shirt, pulled down his pants (and underwear) and raised his arms in triumph.

During this display, my manager, Ray, stood next to me on the floor.

He laughed, then asked, “Isn’t that your friend?”

Yes, I tentatively replied.

“Well, tell him he’s banned for a month.”

Exactly one month later, with the banned lifted, my friend went up on stage – and did it again.

To my knowledge, after the second ban from the club, he retired his air guitar act.

There is a slight addendum to his action, during his ‘act’ he started a chant about a body parts (one which everyone could clearly see) but I can not, and will not, repeat it here.

Just know, there was chanting.

The best part of working in a bar, also the worst, was closing time. It is so hard to get drunks to leave a bar when the lights come on. Around and around I’d go, tell people to leave, and they just didn’t get the hint. In reality, we just wanted them out so the staff could drink while the band of the night broke down their equipment. While the band did that, we’d drink for free and play video games (usually PAC-Man and Ms. PAC-Man – don’t judge us, it was the eighties).

Sometimes, we didn’t leave the bar until the sun peaked over the horizon.

Did you know, when bartenders cleaned their stations, they would serve us a drink called a ‘Jim Jones’?

What is a ‘Jim Jones’? Glad you asked.

Quick history lesson: Jim Jones was a cult leader that killed his followers with a lethal concoction of cyanide and fruit juice.

It’s where the phrase ‘Drink the Kool-Aid’ comes from.

For us, it was a concoction of all the alcohol run-off collected in the rubber mats underneath where the bartenders mixed their drinks (Vodka, Gin, Tequila, Scotch, mixers, soda, etc).

We would end up doing shots of this conglomerate of liquids (Amazed we are still alive).

During one of these after-hours meeting, my manager, Ray, said to me, “Al, before I hired you,” he laughed, “I would order one case of Tanqueray every three months. Now, its a case a month.”

My drink of choice during work hours? Tanqueray and club soda.

I think it was just a coincidence.

It wasn’t all just business, of course, their were also affairs of the heart.

Well, almost.

There was a woman that worked the Imported Beer Bar that I liked. Back then, it didn’t take much for me to like a woman, but it took me to move a mountain to actually tell her.

I did, I asked her out, and she said yes (cue the fireworks montage).

The next night, as I walked into work, this woman came out to meet me in the parking lot. How sweet was that? Her she was, greeting me before work started.

Turns out, not so much.

She came out to tell that she could not go out with me because she liked someone else.

Side Note: It’s always High School.

I guess (well, I know), that I don’t handle rejection well. The rest of the night was a drunken blur, and because we took care of each other during trying times (well, I’d find out later what might have happened during these ‘trying times’) I was given a ride home.

The next night, when I made it back to work, I was told that there was a discussion, with me in my inebriated state, they wanted to put me on a plane to Boston, as a joke (this was the eighties, you could actually do that).

But, instead, they drove me home.

I’d like to thank those that voted against this absolutely horrible idea, because I don’t think I would have done well, drunk and alone, (new reality show?) in Boston.

When it was over, and the bar was sold, the new owner decided that what South Amboy needed was a New York City-style Night Club (it did not).

On the last night of the Colonel's Garter, the band Flossie played. Flossie was the lead singer and she wore tight red leather pants.

Pure Rock’ N’ Roll.

The night the new re-imaged bar opened (City Lights), and was now like a New York Night Club, Flossie (also re-imaged) stepped out on stage in an evening gown.

Neither the bar, nor the band, worked.

A few years later, the bar became a strip-club called ‘Delilah's Den’.

After that, who knows if the building still exists, but all I know is...

...it was fun while it lasted.

[digital-corruption]

I'm not happy with it, but I am sick of editing this chapter and I want to move on. Otherwise, I'll never finish it.

⚠️ Trigger warning: PTSD episode, choking

Unrecognisable Part 49

Fire. Everywhere. As far as the eye could see. I tried to find my way out, but all I could see were flames and it didn’t help that every next breath was emptier than the previous. I tried to scream, but nothing came out. I turned back to look at Jake, but where his hand had once been there was nothing but fire creeping up my arm. In that moment my heart stopped as I realised I was done for. I would die in this fire and nothing would be left behind. I didn’t want to die, I wanted to live. Live, damnit, live!

I jumped up in a cold sweat, my heart racing in a panic. My eyes darted around the room, trying to remember where the hell I was. Rundown, abandoned office. Old, ratty leather couch. That’s right, the warehouse. Sighing, I wiped my temple of the sweat and my cheek of the tears. Shit, that was worst and most vivid nightmare I had in ages. If I closed my eyes, I could still feel the heat of the fire. I glanced down and remembered the burns on my fore arms beneath the bandages. That’s right, not all of it was a dream. Some of it, no, most of it was real.

I sunk down and hugged my knees lightly while my mind ran through the events of the night before. I felt the pain of Cyan pinning me to the ground, syringe in his hand, coming so close to injecting me with liquid poison. I remembered hearing the roar of Jake’s voice cut through the room before he tackled Cyan and wrestled him for control. The look in Jake’s eye as Cyan bled out beneath him still sent chills down my spine. It was as if it had been a game – a game with the odds completely stacked against Jake. He won and basked in the victory while his opponent died

However, that moment was brief - that gloat turned to terror.

I winced as I could still taste the smoke on the back of my throat. I wondered how much mouth wash I would have to gargle to get rid of the awful taste. Or was it just one of those things I could never get rid of? Would I regain my sense of smell, or would I only ever be able to smell smoke forever more? Would I always be cursed to remember the night in perfect definition?

My phone beeped several times, which broke my concentration. I stared at it for a minute while I tried to decide whether I would even bother checking it. My curiosity won in the end.

Trix: Holy fuck! What the fuck did you two do!?

Trix: You killed Cyanide!? You actually fucking killed him!?

Trix: What the fuck were you thinking!?!!

Trix: OMFG…

Trix: There’s going to be a power vacuum a mile wide because of you!

Trix: Shit! All hell is going to break loose!

Trix: Why the fuck did you have to kill him!?

I turned the screen off and tossed the phone onto the floor. As if I cared about Colville’s underground politics. They could self-destruct on each other, and I wouldn’t blink an eye. So long as they stayed the fuck out of our way.

I stood up and stretched out gingerly. My crusted burns painfully threatened to weep again if I pushed them too much. I spotted a glass of water on the desk. I knew it was already mixed with Jake’s pain medication. I picked it up and downed it in one go.

‘Or let them come. We could use the stress relief,’ I thought to myself.

Let them come. Let them burn.

I could hear Jake’s dark voice in my head even though he never said those things. Somehow I heard them as clear as day and it made me smile. Suddenly I had renewed strength and was ready to face the day.

Thinking of Jake, I went to check on him. Had he been up all night working again? I expected to find him sitting at his desk as usual, but strangely the desk was vacant. I walked over and found his laptop had been left to run a process, but it had already finished. So where was the user?

A faint sniffle from the far end of the floor caught my attention. Zigging and zagging through the random scattering of desks and chairs, I found Jake sitting on the floor with his head in his knees in the far corner of the loft. His entire body was shivering, no, shaking. I knelt down beside him and put my hand on his back. His entire body jumped at my sudden touch. He raised his head slightly in response. His face was pale and his eyes were wide while his breathing trembled.

“Jake,” I cooed. “Jake, you’re safe.”

No response. The closer I looked, the more I noticed. His pupils were dilated. There was a tiny bit of dried blood on his lip where he had bit it too hard. His fingernails had bent and broke badly from digging them too hard into his pants. How long had he been like this?

“Jake, you’re not in the mines, you’re not in the fire. You’re… here,” I gestured to our surroundings with my head. “You’re home, for lack of a better word.”

“Find R-richy…” Jake shuddered.

“No, Jake, you don’t have to find him. He’s in prison, remember?” I smiled gently. “That was a very long time ago. You don’t need to worry about him anymore.”

I paused for a moment and waited for any sort of reaction from Jake, but he couldn’t hear me. I sighed with regret, knowing that I had caused this new series of episodes. Somehow, I had to get Jake out of the mental prison. It hurt so much to see him suffer like this, especially after having a taste of it myself. But how?

Out of nowhere, Jake snapped around and grabbed my wrist. As if the pain of that wasn’t enough, he twisted it and pushed me off balance. I fell backwards onto the floor with a thud. I screamed out from the searing pain of my burns being so harshly manhandled, but my cries were cut off by Jake’s hand at my throat. Unlike his taunts of the past, he squeezed hard, stifling the life from me, while he stared at me with dead, cold eyes. I clawed desperately at his hand, trying to get him to release me, but he was too strong.

“Jake!” I barely got out.

I stared deep into his cold, blank eyes hoping for any sort of recognition of what was happening, but I got nothing. Quickly strength drained from my body. My vision began to tunnel as my consciousness started to fade. The consideration that I could die right then and there suddenly became a frighteningly real possibility. My heart beat so heavily it felt like it was going to jump out of my chest. With the little vigour I had left, I shot daggers into the eyes of my possessed assaulter. Wake up damnit!

Suddenly Jake’s eyes widened as a wave of realisation washed over him. He immediately let go and jumped off me. I turned over and coughed uncontrollably as oxygen flooded my brain again. I was so deafened by the sound of my own pulse pounding in my ears that I could barely make out Jake screaming in agony until my heart rate started to recover.

“No!” Jake yelled at the top of his lungs. “Why? Why!?”

I tried to speak, but the only sound that came out of my throat was a cracked, broken mess. Jake buried his face in his knees again while his hands pulled at his hair. He let out a tortured wail into his thighs. I crawled over to him and lifted his head up with my hands cupping his cheeks. His expression was so full of pain and remorse that I couldn’t hold back my own tears. I leant my forehead against his and we cried together.

After a while Jake gritted his teeth and spoke up, “I’m so fucked up.”

“That’s why we’re seeing the doctor,” I hoarsely reminded him.

“What if he can’t help me?” Jake bit his lip hard. “Fuck, MC, I was so close to killing you.”

“Jake-“ my voice croaked.

“Don’t you dare say it’s ok because it’s not!” he snapped. “A few seconds longer and…”

I wiped his tears from his cheeks with my thumbs, then kisses his lips. “Tonight, Jake, tonight you’re meeting with the doctor and you’re going to get a handle on this!”

“I wouldn’t need it if it wasn’t for Richy!” he exclaimed. “He’s the reason I’m like this! He turned me into a pathetic, weak, deranged fuck up!”

“And he’s paying the price for it,” I reminded him.

“No…” Jake shook his head and his eyes turned dark. “He’s paid a pittance for what he’s done. His entire existence is a mistake!”

I realised there was no point in trying to argue with him, the best thing I could do was distract him from the topic. I raised my arms and took a good look at the bandages. They got rather bunched up and dishevelled during Jake’s episode, and my wounds wept so much, there was no point trying to salvage these. I needed fresh bandages.

“Did I do that?” Jake anguished.

“Let’s not focus on that,” I glanced up at him. “You can’t change the past, but the now you can change. Will you help me clean these?”

“I caused you so much pain… Only if you would have me,” he said full of guilt. “It’s the least I can do.”

“Then let’s go downstairs,” I stood up carefully.

Jake remained on the floor and with a pained expression, looked up at me, as if he didn’t deserve to stand. I held out my hand to help him up. He took it and pressed his forehead onto the back of my hand apologetically.

“I-I can’t say I forgive you,” I admitted.

“Nor should you. I won’t ever bother asking you to,” he muttered. “This is already much more than I deserve.”

“Jake, that’s not true,” I frowned. “You need help. Everyone deserves help.”

“No, not everyone,” he shook his head.

“Yes, you,” I rolled my eyes.

Jake raised his head and kissed my fingertips, “These are still so clean.”

“No, they’re not,” I sighed.

“They’re cleaner than you think. I don’t deserve this hand. I will only taint it,” he rambled.

“Jake, come on, get up,” I frowned.

Jake looked into my eyes as he put his lips around my pointer and middle fingers and softly lowered his mouth until he was past the second knuckle.

“Something tells me you want to taint it,” I raised my eyebrow.

Jake pulled my fingers out of his mouth leaving a trail of saliva between his lips and my fingers, “I want to corrupt all of you. I will if you keep letting me.”

I swallowed uncomfortably. There was such a darkness around Jake, and it had taken complete control of him. It threatened to engulf and pull me under with him. Oh how easy it would have been to let it consume me. No, my ego had to continue taunting it, thinking I had the upper hand and could control it. I pressed my fingertips against Jake’s lips then shoved my fingers back into his mouth. He eagerly started sucking on them, running his tongue lovingly along their length. I nearly fell into temptation, but the persistent pain on my arms reminded me that there were more pressing matters to take care of. I pulled my fingers back out and then lightly held his chin.

“Stand up, Jake,” I commanded, tugging the invisible leash.

Obediently, Jake stood up and followed me downstairs to the bathroom. I started to go through the first aid kit for the antiseptic solution, but Jake stopped me. He took my left arm and carefully unwound the ruined bandage, then proceeded to thoroughly clean the open burns and blisters. He reapplied the burn cream from the night before and pulled out a fresh bandage to rewrap my arm. After meticulously caring for my left arm, he repeated the process for my right arm just as diligently. Watching him, it was hard to think he was the same person who nearly killed me less than an hour ago. Glancing in the mirror, I noticed the bruise marks already starting to appear around my neck. The juxtaposition was so extreme that if it wasn’t for the physical evidence of Jake’s episode, I would’ve thought that I had imagined it, like it was a bad nightmare. It was too easy to forget how quickly he could snap.

The rest of the day passed rather uneventfully. Jake buried himself in his work, trying to distract himself from recent events. While he was occupied, I checked the news online to see what was being discussed about the fire. Generally the census was that the authorities had no information regarding the freak fire that burnt down the old warehouse, but I knew that wasn’t true. The articles mentioned some vagrants dying as a result of the fire, but that was as much as they mentioned. There was absolutely no mention of who or what they were, or of us. I suppose all things considered, that was for the best. I was sick of being painted as anarchist villains. I guess there was no story to weave so no propaganda to spin.

In the end it was just a fire that some nameless people died in. However, after a while, that started to unnerve me. All things considered, I shouldn’t have cared that Cyan and his cronies weren’t even named, but then I had a fleeting thought. If it was us, would we get a mention? Or would our deaths too be swept under the carpet like we didn’t exist? Would our loved ones even be told we died? Would our bodies be returned to them, or would we be cremated as John and Jane Doe? The fact I couldn’t even answer that made me sick. Suddenly I felt like there was real weight to Jake’s fear of being wiped from existence. It was too frighteningly easy to become lost and forgotten in this world.

[beepboop358]

heey! so, i'm really not trying to invalidate Byler and I do think you're onto something with the evidence and they definitely could be endgame (and I don't think what I'm gonna ask would change that at all). But, can I ask you a question?

What do you think about Will asking Mike to not tell the others about his episode in the Upside Down and then Mike actually tells Lucas and Dustin?

I get that it was a serious moment, and maybe he just has to tell them, but metaphorically or something like that, Will trusted Mike with something important to him and Mike kinda looked past that? I mean he even ephasizes he remember Will told him not to tell. What do you think of that?

I hope you're doing okay! ♡ And I hope this doesn't sound negative, it really isn't my intention. I still think the Byler evience has a lot of potential.

hey anon! no worries at all! you are always welcome;come to sen me any questions :)

This might be a little longer than you wanted so I apologize 😂

First off it's not a huge secret Will is having episodes because Lucas and Dustin were there to witness his episode on Halloween (ep.2), so they know something is up. They just think it's all in Will's head, and they don't have any details of what is happening.

Later in this episode, Will tells Mike about the episodes he has been having. He tells Mike not to tell the others, because they wouldn't understand, and then they have the crazy together conversation.

Mike doesn't break Will's wishes for him not to tell the others, without permission from Will to do so.

In Episode 3, Dustin introduces Dart to the party, and Will recognizes Dart's noises from the upside down:

Dustin thinks he has discovered a new species, so they go to show Mr. Clarke. Will and Mike are in the hallway, while Max, Lucas and Dustin are in the classroom already. Will tells Mike that

conversation about Will's episodes being real & Dart, happens in ep.3. Before that scene however, Will comes up to Mike and says he needs to tell him something about Dart:

It's Will's choice to bring it up to Mike. He's initiating here, so it's not like the next scene is completely against Will's wishes or anything.

Will is too afraid to tell the group himself, but he knows it's important to tell them because if Dart is from the upside down then this is really bad, so naturally he goes to Mike to tell him first about knowing Dart is from the upside down, therefore giving Mike permission to bring it up to the group.

And finally we have the conversation with all 4 boys where Mike suggests to Lucas and Dustin that maybe the episodes Will are having, are actually real and he has somehow acquired true sight (the ability to see into the ethereal plane as described by Dustin) which would mean Dart is from the upside down.

Mike doesn't betray Will's wishes at all by bringing this up to the group because Lucas and Dustin already know about the episodes already, and Will gives him permission to tell the others about how he heard Dart in one of his episodes, and Mike doesn't go into detail about exactly what Will has experienced in his episodes, that stays between the two of them. And this is the scene where we get Mike & Will pictured in front of the rainbow apple logo, which was designed as a reference to Alan Turing (who Will does his hero project in season 4 on) for his contribution to computers, and who was also a gay man, who killed himself by eating an apple laced with cyanide because being gay was illegal in Britain at the time, all while Mike and Will's hands nearly touch on the table :)

Thanks for the ask! I accidentally deleted this the first time I wrote it so I'm sorry I couldn't get it out a little sooner. You don't sound negative don't worry :) I hope you're doing okay too and I hope you have a good weekend <3

I accidentally did the wrong scene, so here’s the original scene this anon meant (sorry again! 😬)

[thefanficmonster]

Sweet Tooth

Corpse Husband x Asian Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Tooth-rotting (😉) Fluff, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Corpse isn’t one to have a big preference or craving for sweet, sugary treats. In fact, he’d even go as far as to say he’s not at all a fan of candy. Well, much to his yet to be known delight, his partner Y/N takes that as a personal challenge.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your lovely request! So sorry it’s taken me so long to write and post it but here it finally is and I hope you come across it and read it despite the long time that’s passed. If you do, I hope you enjoy it! Love, Vy ��� 

“Hey guys! Welcome back to my channel!“ Y/N gives the camera a wave and blows it a quick kiss with their lips stretched in a delighted grin. They clap their hands together, turning to look at their guest who’s sitting in a chair on their right, his face covered with a sticker in the final cut of the video that their viewers have the opportunity of watching. “Ok, before we address the elephant in the room, I’m gonna ask the elephant himself not to move his head too much cause this is already gonna take a long time to edit, the last thing I need is to animate that sticker over your face to follow your movement.“

“Got it, babe.“ A deep voice replies obediently, earning an approving hum in response. However, just as Y/N’s about to turn to face the camera again, the mysterious - ok, not THAT mysterious - guest leans down and plants a kiss on their cheek.

“Brat!“ They squeal as they turn to glare at the person with narrowed eyes. He doesn’t appear bothered at all, chuckling as he wraps his arms around them in an attempt to soften them up. Sadly, his tries fall through as they proceed to ignore his affection instead of reciprocating it for the sake of being petty, “Everyone, this is my boyfriend Corpse.“

“Hello, I am hand.“ Corpse says, slowly waving his hand at the camera, “I shall be your entertainment tonight.“

“Oh this is no entertainment, I have a point to prove here.“ Y/N argues, breaking free from his arms before they bend down to pick up one of the two boxes that are resting by their feet. “You see, Corpse and I got in a bit of a scrap last night...“ they trail off, distracted by the contents of the box that’s now resting on their lap.

“I didn’t think me admitting to not liking sweet stuff would provoke such a dramatic reaction from Y/N but here we are.“ He interferes, lifting a finger in the air as though that will help him be heard better or would protect him in case his partner decided to go off at him.

Y/N just ignores his input yet again, continuing to address the camera, aka their audience, “So as you guys may or may not know, my mom’s Korean and my dad’s Japanese. Since they live in their respective countries for work purposes, that means I’m always one phone call - and a little bit of a wait - away from Korean and Japanese snacks at all times. I’m a person who constantly has a snack by their side so you can bet I make that phone call often. However, about a week ago, I made that call specifically for candy, the brands I was obsessed with as a kid. I don’t know what came over me but I think it was my fortuneteller sense kicking in because this mister over here decided to CASUALLY bring up the fact that he doesn’t like candy.” They turn to glare at him before continuing, “Anyways, so luckily, the package arrived only recently so I haven’t had the time to tear open all the candy and eat it all by myself as I was planning to. That being said, today I’ll be in introducing Corpse to the world of Japanese and Korean candy - a tighter circle of it, to be specific: the candy I grew up with.” They finally turn to Corpse again, the look on their face significantly different and a lot more pleasant compared to the one they gave him a bit ago. “So, how are you feeling, babe? Are you excited?”

Although the man’s face is blocked to the viewers, Y/N can still see him and they are pretty damn close to bursting out in a fit of laughter.  “I don’t know how to feel, actually. I know you have peculiar taste so it’s either gonna be a fun experience or I’m gonna very displeased with what you’ll have me try.“

Y/N rolls their eyes, “Trust me, you won’t be.” They put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, only half humoring his nervousness, “You’ll only be trying six on camera, but my parents sent a ton more which you’ll be able to try later, ok? It was really hard for me to pick only six favorites by I don’t need this video crossing the twenty minute mark.”

With a heavy-hearted sigh, Corpse finally brings himself to rip the band-aid off and get this adventure started. “Ok cool, but don’t surprise me with anything, please. Show me what you had in mind to have me try so I can, you know, prepare myself.”

Y/N, who was busy taking out packets of candy just a moment ago suddenly stops in their movements to give him a look of disbelief, “You know none of these are poisonous, right? Like, I’m not trying to kill you or anything. There’s no cyanide, no rat poison...”

His laughter cuts them off, wrapping his arm around them and pulling them closer again, “I’m messing with you, babe. What you got for me?” He says, placing a quick kiss to their temple while sneaking a peek at the packaging of the candies they’re holding right now.

Wiggling a little looser in his grip, they first show him the three items before turning them to the camera, “These are from my mom, she sent them from Korea and they are triggering a massive wave of nostalgia right now, not gonna lie.” They giggle, adjusting the brightness a little so the products can be seen properly, “Ok so first we have the long biscuit sticks that come in many flavors but I asked for my favorite - green tea flavored, that is. Then we have Pumpkin Monaca which are probably one of my most favorite sweet treats of all time. I think you’re gonna really like them. And lastly from Korea we have these butter waffles which I used to eat for breakfast when I was running late for school - which happened often.”

Corpse snorts, “That doesn’t surprise me.”

His remark is overlooked as Y/N continues, now taking out three packets from the other package, “Now we’re moving on to my dad’s box. He didn’t disappoint either: we have soda-flavored jelly beans; Black Thunder chocolate bars which you’re only gonna steal one of because the rest are MINE; and last but definitely not least we have some classic milk candies.” Setting those down as well, they turn to Corpse yet again, this time giving his a mischievous smile that’s promising him trouble, “So, Mr. Corpse Husband, after this introduction, are you prepared to have your entire opinion o sweet food changed? And more importantly, are you prepared to develop an addiction to these treats?”

Corpse nods confidently, “Oh, I’m very prepared, thank you. Let’s just get on with it.”

Needless to say: boy, was he not as prepared as he thought he was.

It goes without saying Y/N proved their point and took the win today.

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[yvonnica]

While reading "cyanide narwhal" by TrashcanWithSprinkles, I got an idea for a fix-it fic around the Guili Assembly's time period.

In particular, I have been thinking about an OC who's like Osial. Or an OC that is Osial.

Maybe a recently dead human soul merged with his own when he was newly formed, which changed his personality?

Anyhow, the OC would be the Lord of the Sea of Clouds (the sea Liyue Harbor is right next to). They don't like humans in their territory, so they push all ships out of their waters.

Because of the human soul, they unknowingly have some compassion for humans though, so they don't kill any of them but actually sometimes saves them.

When Guili Assembly is still thriving, Guizhong and Morax seek Orien out to establish a port next to his territory with his permission.

The contract would be about protecting each other's territories. Guili's people would have save passage on the Sea of Clouds and in return Guili would make sure that Orien's ecosystem remains save.

Renn would then slowly befriend Morax, Guizhong, the other Adepti and the humans of Guili Assembly. He would essentially become another patron god.

(Renn's pronouns are He/They btw)

-

I have decided that OC!Osial has 4 names. Here are their explanation:

Osial - his godly name. A very formal name only used by foreign strangers who haven't met him yet.

Orien - his lordly name and technically personal name. Full title is "Orien, the Lord of the Sea of Clouds". A formal name, mostly used by people who don't know him personally and in conjunction with his title.

Renn - his personal name and nickname of Orien. The people of Liyue Harbor call him "Lord Renn". Those who have met him more than just in passing call him Renn.

Míngtāo - his "real" personal name. Used only by friends. Given to him by Meiyu, a Liyuen girl and his first friend.

It is a combination of 明 (míng) meaning "bright, light, shining, clear" and 涛 (tāo) meaning "large waves".

[Since I don't know Chinese, Míngtāo's name might be wrong]

~•~

Meiyu was the first person Orien got to know personally. She was the one to teach him human language and became his first friend.

Grinning from ear to ear, Meiyu ran down to the beach. The water snake could finally understand her! Sure, it was because he wanted to make her go away after ignoring and intimidating her didn't work, but she could finally tell him now!

What she needed to tell him was so important that she couldn't let his attempts to make her go away demotivate her!

Finally arriving at the beach, Meiyu took a deep breath to shout out; "Mr. Water Snake! Hey! Heeyy~! I need to talk to you! C'mon! Don't ignore me!"

Like always, he let her wait a few minutes until he finally deigned to acknowledge her.

Rising out of the water, he finally appeared before her.

Excitedly looking between his 5 heads, Meiyu jumped up and down;

"Hey! I need to tell you something veery~ important!"

"What is it?", the other sighted.

"But first! You need to tell me your name! It's very important I use your name for this!", Meiyu told him with attentive eyes and a voice full of expectation.

"... I don't have a name."

Surprised, Meiyu stopped jumping around. She looked between his sets of eyes, taken aback. "What do you mean, you don't have a name? I have heard people call you Orien!"

Agitated, he shifted his body.

"Exactly, that's what you humans call me. It isn't my name."

"Oh. I-... Do you- ... Would you like me to give you one?", she asked with a tentative voice.

He stilled for a moment, but answered, unbothered: "Do what you will."

"Okay! Let me think for a moment!"

After a few minutes, Meiyu jumped up, which prompted the other to straighten up as well.

"I know! How about Míngtāo? You know, as in bright and big wave!"

He seemed to think about it for a moment before nodding with his leftmost head.

"That's acceptable."

Meiyu smiled up at him. However, she lost some of her newfound excitement in the next second, apparently remembering something.

"Right. Now that I know your name..."

Meiyu took on a more serious air and looked straight into his right-most eyes before bowing down low. "Thank you, Míngtāo, for saving my life. And the lives of my parents. If you didn't drag us to the beach after our ship wrecked, we would have died."

[thepiratearcinhamlet]

Dead Apple Explanation:

Part Six: Dazai & the Antidote; also Soukoku

---------

WARNING. If you do NOT want spoilers, then please do not keep reading. :)

Now, I know there was some definite confusion about the whole pill/apple/knife/stabby/death/ thing, so here goes:

The pill was an antidote for the poison that was inside the apple, and subsequently on the knife that had been sheathed inside the apple. The pill wasn't dissolvable - it needed to be cracked open, much like a cyanide pill. Dazai secreted the pill in his mouth before he went to Draconia, knowing he would need it later. In order to defeat Draconia and return separated abilities to users who were still alive, Dazai's ability needed to create a singularity. Except the only way for Shibusawa to take possession of an ability stone was to kill the user. However, the gem is harvested as you are /dying/. It doesn't wait for you to be completely dead, pulse gone, etc. etc. Shibusawa stabbed Dazai with the poisoned knife, but Dazai couldn't take the antidote just yet, or his ability would return to him. The knife was not long enough to reach his heart, and not even in the right spot. The poison would kill Dazai before the knife would. Dazai passed out, and was sucked into the dead apple that eventually transformed into a Dragon of Chaos.

Note: The novel says that he dies, and also refers to his corpse, but the novel ALSO likes to use devious language to confuse the reader, (i.e. the bar scene, where it makes the readers think it was a suicide pill, not an antidote.) It is POSSIBLE, that the pill was some form of antidote, and Chuuya's Corruption punch acted as a defibrillator, but that would give Chuuya only six minutes max from the minute Dazai was stabbed to agree to Ango's terms, arrive at Draconia, kill the Dragon, and hit Dazai, (otherwise the brain incurs extreme damage or is unrevivable.) It's more plausible to assume Dazai was simply dying and in an almost comatose state. Anyways.

When Chuuya activated Corruption to defeat the dragon and find Dazai, he clearly knew what to do - smack Dazai gently enough NOT to kill him, but firmly enough to crack the pill in his mouth, so the antidote would activate, Dazai would revive, and Chuuya's Corruption could be shut off. If you ask me, Dazai had been forming a potential plan for this ever since he discovered "apple suicide". He had one of Fyodor's apples and knives, and had created an antidote, and Chuuya knew what to do. Dazai probably knew that one day he would confront Shibusawa, and it was good to have an antidote - and in case he couldn't administer it himself, Chuuya could do it for him. Chuuya probably thought he was nuts back then, but Soukoku's trust runs deep - Chuuya remembered. (P.S. After writing this, I saw an interview with the authors/creators of Dead Apple, and it was confirmed that Chuuya knew Dazai's motives/plans.)

Which brings up what I mentioned earlier about the Port Mafia knowing more about Shibusawa than anyone, including the Agency and Special Division. Near the climax of Dead Apple, Mori comments that this must all be part of Dazai's calculations. Chuuya knows exactly what to do to save Dazai. Akutagawa knew how to regain his ability, (i.e. destroying the ability stone.) And Mori knew enough of Dazai's plan to authorize Chuuya to answer Ango's summons to Special Division. (He mentions this at the end of Dead Apple, when he says Dazai was the star of the show, but Chuuya gets life-long bragging rights and the peace of the city.)

At the end of the last episode of S2, Dazai and Hirotsu discuss what happened and what is to come. Dazai mentions "the demon" who has returned, meaning Fyodor. He also mentions how he thinks an alliance might be necessary between Atsushi and Akutagawa, and even mentions how powerful he and Chuuya were back in his Port Mafia days. As evidenced in the Prologue, Hirotsu was gathering his own information about Shibusawa, per Mori's orders. It's very likely that Dazai and Hirotsu discussed Shibusawa, since he was connected with Fyodor, and exchanged information and possible plans, and that is why the Port Mafia was in the know and the Agency and Special Division were not.

SO YEAH. Hopefully that clears up the whole antidote/dying thing, as well as the Port Mafia being so much in the know.

A couple more notes on Chuuya and Dazai:

It's worth mentioning that even in his Corruption state, which he usually cannot control, Chuuya was able to remember Dazai, (he screams his name as he dives into the exploding Dragon,) and hit him /just perfectly/. Corruption punches create black holes and destroy pretty much anything. Yet, somehow, Chuuya was able to control Corruption to hit Dazai but not kill him. When Chuuya told Ango he needed to save Dazai to smack him, he meant that literally. *cue more feels*

Also, remember how I said earlier that not everyone's ability was affected by Shibusawa's? Fyodor, Dazai, and Chuuya appear to be the exceptions who can resist or are immune. Dazai's ability is, in his words, "an anti-ability", and therefore could cancel out Shibusawa's effects. Fyodor's ability was so much a part of himself, that the ability could not separate itself from his individuality. Chuuya's ability is ALSO a huge part of himself, but its core comes from Arahabaki, which can resist Shibusawa. When Chuuya collapses, Dazai tells him to stay put, because Shibusawa isn't dead, and Chuuya is in no condition to fight his own ability, and Dazai isn't up for it either. Chuuya wasn't immune, but could resist - his loss of strength after Corruption would cause his resistance to wane, but with Dazai touching him, For The Tainted Sorrow would be nullified, therefore cancelling out Shibusawa's ability on BOTH of them. The animation reflects this, causing a very light glow to emanate from Dazai, enveloping Chuuya as well, as the mist swirls around them. *even more feels*

[marveldc-imagines-hub]

Subtitles: Episode 8, Previously On

Subtitles Masterlist

Summary: As they seek out Vision a Westview that doesn’t seem to want them to find him, more memories from [Y/N]’s past begin to appear. They almost seem drawn out of the dark depths of their mind by some unseen force but it’s hard to tell whether it’s friend or foe. Who is forcing [Y/N]’s memories to the forefront of their mind--Wanda or someone else?--and is it tied to the suddenly hostile Westview blocking them from finding Vision? Who is trying to keep them distracted?

Word count: 6,584

Warnings: Cursing, descriptions of death and declining mental health. Mostly angst, tbh.

Tag list: @madamevirgo @ravennight41 @multifandomgirl16 @cyanide-mustard @badasspolygenderfriend @austynparksandpizza @sophster1881 @haileyybird​ @maceidelic​ @alexpress @angelvinella

Ko-Fi Shoppe

~~~

You were too busy trying to calm the anxious gnawing in your stomach to notice Westview subtly changing around you. It wasn’t until a vine wrapped tightly around your ankle and made you almost trip and fall face-first into a fire hydrant that you looked around with a frown.

    The vine itself—thick, spiky, and definitely not native to the suburbs of New Jersey—had sprouted from cracks in the sidewalk, which spread and opened further as other vines crept after it. After tearing the one holding you off and stepping out of its reach, you noticed the fences of houses reaching far past their yards to create maze-like paths that covered the sidewalks and street ahead of you. The houses that these fences belonged to were also warped in a way that made them look like you were viewing them through funhouse mirrors, stretching far into the sky and bending overhead in your direction like they meant to block you from leaving in that direction—or meant to block you from being seen by anyone flying overhead.

    Your eyebrows arched so far up on your forehead that you weren’t sure that they were still there. “What the fuck is going on?”

    You weren’t as concerned about the magic happening itself—if some random civilian walked by, they’d barely react at all and the maze and houses weren’t causing any actual damage, just being incredibly annoying—as you were by the fact that you couldn’t tell who was doing it. Your first thought was Wanda, naturally, but it made no sense that she’d be trying to keep you from finding Vision when she was the one who’d originally sent you to go get him; not to mention that she’s never created such a bizarre display of magic, at least intentionally. You considered yourself next, as you’ve known yourself to cause random transmutations when you get too antsy, but this wasn’t the type of power that you controlled and when you tried to reach out to interact with the energy, you received opposition instead of energy bending to your will. It was somewhat difficult to pick out because it seemed to hide away under the blanket of Wanda’s magic that reached across everything in Westview, but the aura of the twisted architecture surrounding you was dark and hostile.

    You first attempted to humor whatever magic was at play and made your way through the maze but as you did so, the fences shifted around you to extend their white picket prison. You stopped and sighed. “The end is nigh… and I am not going to spend it dealing with this shit.”

    A little voice in the back of your head told you that you could probably set fire to the whole magic mirror setup and be done with it but you ultimately decided against it; Wanda would probably find out and definitely wouldn’t be happy when she did. Instead, you placed your hands on the fence and as you did so, posts morphed into gates that you could easily pass through. You continued through the maze via this method and were surprised to feel the opposing magic back away from you after your pushback.

    “Oh, thank god,” you grumbled under your breath as you made it through the last of the maze. 

Unfortunately, you celebrated too early as the cement underneath your feet suddenly began to melt back into its liquid form. It would have been fairly easy to use your powers to reharden the cement but exhausting yourself fighting with the opposing force until the sidewalks of Westview shifted into grassy fields on its outskirts seemed like a bad idea in the long run, especially with the twins’ disappearance, Wanda dealing with Agnes’s strange behavior, Monica’s return, and the warning churn of your stomach telling you to stay alert. So, you settled for trudging along through wet cement until the magic decided to back off again.

Not so much trying to cause damage as it’s trying to mildly inconvenience me, is it? you thought.

Just as before, once the magic trying to keep you distracted was rivaled by your own, it receded and you were soon walking on the regular, hard sidewalk once more. You cleaned your pants and shoes up by turning the wet cement still clinging to them into something much more manageable—water—and continued on your way. Sorting through the mix of concern, nips of mild hunger, and the energy-seeking compass in the center of your now twisting in every which direction, you managed to eventually focus back into the feeling of Vision somewhere in the distance. It got stronger as you walked, so you began to pick up the pace.

Then your unseen opponent returned, stronger and now in the mental realm instead of the physical. At first, you thought the kickback was just Westview’s borders—the Hex, Monica had called it—trying to right the wrongs of someone within it having memories of the outside world, something you’d experienced before. However, you felt the menace rippling underneath the surface of the haze and when you tried to fight back this time, you were met with an angry strength. The fog making your head feel heavy seemed to spread through your bloodstream and take home in your bones, weighing your body down until you stood still and lame in the middle of a random neighborhood. You were a prisoner in your own body; you couldn’t move even if you wanted to, but you didn’t even know if you did because your brain was so full of dark storm clouds that you couldn’t think straight. You knew that you stared slack-jawed into space but it felt more like you were sitting in a dark room inside your skull and watching the outside world from a TV screen. As you watched on, the fog that took over your mind and body took your eyesight too.

===

===

===

The first few memories were fleeting. 

You were a few years old and holding your mother’s hand. It was much less boney and knotted than you remembered your mother’s hand being, as was the rest of her. She was younger and stronger, standing next to you in a worn nurse uniform and overcoat and staring ahead with a scowl, concealing whatever emotions she was feeling otherwise. You were in a bedroom that was only vaguely familiar to you and the two of you watched an old man that was barely more than a skeleton slept under a heap of fraying blankets. As you stared on through the wide eyes of your child self, your grandfather heaved a final breath before falling into a deep, eternal slumber.

A couple of years older, you were in the old but cozy, sunny yellow kitchen that your mom love to cook in. You sat at the dining room table, kicking your legs and picking at the splitting wood as your mother and a stranger argued in the other room. You had never heard your mother raise her voice to such an extent before but at the time, you were much more concerned about what kind of sandwich you were going to help her make for lunch. You never saw the stranger aside from a flash of [H/C] as he left and he was never seen or heard of again.

You were still in the kitchen but its appearance had changed ever so slightly. Yours did too, as you were a teenager now, and now your mother sat across from you at the table. Though she was still healthy now, her overall haggard appearance would be one that she carried on for years to come. She was telling you about her doctor’s appointment but you were only somewhat listening as you were stressed about high school drama and final assignments to be turned in before summer break. You heard words like “dementia” and “Alzheimer’s” but the meanings were lost on you in that moment.

Then you were in a nursing home. You could feel the harsh lighting, hear the TV from the lounge behind you. The smell of cleaning supplies burned your nostrils but the smell of your mother’s stale perfume soothed it. Unfortunately, nothing could soothe the ache that made your heart feel like it was going to shrivel up and die when you came to tell her that you changed your major in college so you would be better equipped to help her, only for her unable to recall having a child at all.

You were pinned against a wall in a Sokovian HYDRA base, although you didn’t know the organization that you were studying with was HYDRA at the time. Shivers of equal parts fear and exhilaration made your entire body quiver and the clipboard you’d been holding clattered to the ground. While a large group of Sokovian war protestors had to hunch together to fit in the cramped and cold holding room, Wanda seemed to take up the majority of the space just from her spot of holding you into place. Her hair was a mess and her face and clothes were dirty but her eyes were full of more life than you’d experienced during your entire time working in the base. She was angry and determined and powerful and gorgeous, and she told you that if you ever ran into her again that she’d kill you—and you were surprised with how okay you were about the idea, as long as you got to see her again. When she let you go and you apologized, she told you what she and the others were doing here; this was the catalyst that sent you investigating into HYDRA and finding out about their much more sinister nature, as well as the pain you’d helped cause.

Finally, the slide show of memories slowed and instead of being confined to your brain, you were back in your own body—or so you thought until you looked around and found yourself staring at a younger copy of yourself. Instead of Westview, you were in a HYDRA testing room, and instead of simply re-experiencing, you were quite literally watching a memory unfold around you as if you were an unwanted audience member standing around the active set of a TV show. Or a ghost, you decided, as the younger you walked through you as if you were nothing but air.

Your younger self was dressed in an all-black work uniform and lab attire, with an identification card clipped to your chest that granted you high-level clearance. You’d worked immensely hard playing HYDRA’s game to get to where you were now, which was standing in the control room with two other agents and preparing to analyze the test about to unfold on the other side of a large glass window. In the test chamber, a door slowly slid open and Wanda, unkempt and spacey, entered.

You wanted to break her out. Judging by the way your younger self tensed up—not enough to be noticed by your superiors; you’d mastered your mother’s emotional lockdown of a scowl at this point—your feelings weren’t far off from the initial experience. 

Wanda made her way farther into the room, closer to a scepter with a glowing blue stone that was being held on a pedestal. As she did so, the younger you readied their clipboard and pen to take notes and one of the two agents spoke, “For our notes, Miss Maximoff, can you please state your name and confirm your status?”

The younger copy of your current partner did as she was told. “Wanda Maximoff. Volunteer.”

“Begin experimentation,” the other agent—a doctor and one of your immediate superiors—stated.

“Doctor,” the first man said, “with respect, not one subject has survived direct contac—”

He was broken off as the doctor flicked on the intercom to speak to Wanda again. “Touch the sample.”

Wanda made her way forward but before she could do much, the stone suspended in the scepter—the mind stone, you knew now—detached itself and floated towards her. As it got closer, its glow grew brighter and bright blue magic wafted over Wanda as she stared before reaching out to touch it. While you remembered this situation thus far, what happened next was completely new to you. The mind stone shattered before Wanda’s eyes, revealing yellow golden yellow magic that poured from the remains. There was an explosion of light and within it was a flash of a shadow. From where you were standing, you couldn’t quite make out the shape.

Then the light died and Wanda collapsed, and the rest of the memory ran as you remembered. The scientist and doctor ran out to check that Wanda was still alive, while your younger self recollected themselves enough to take pictures of notes and research reports from the control desk with an old school digital camera that they’d managed to sneak in.

“Well,” a familiar, incredibly out-of-place voice sounded from behind you, “that’s a surprise. I had no idea you and [Y/N] went so far back.”

You spun around to see Agnes and a modern Wanda standing just behind you. Agnes watched your echo with mild curiosity as they carefully rifled through the control desk and gathered as much information as they could to examine at a later time. The dark energy that radiated off the woman was the same that you’d sensed earlier, hiding just underneath Wanda’s own. Being this close to the unhidden source now, the magic felt sharp and acidic and tasted like bile on the back of your tongue. The anxiety that had been gnawing at your stomach increased tenfold as your guts twisted around themselves. It had been Agnes all along.

Past you finished their investigation as they were called in to take Wanda to solitary by one of the other HYDRA agents. When they rushed out of the control room, they passed through Wanda and Agnes, confirming that the women were in a similar state of being to you.

Surprisingly, Agnes was completely unaware of current you’s presence. She walked casually over to the desk and attempted to make sense of younger you’s rummaging before making a face and shrugging.

Wanda, on the other hand, was staring directly at you. To anyone else, it could be said that she was simply looking through you who the commotion happening in the test chamber, but when you met her gaze, the slightest of jaw clenches told you otherwise. While it was Agnes—Not Agnes, a ghost of a whisper in sounded in your head—whose magic had been toying with you, it seemed that it was Wanda’s doing, at least to some extent, that brought you to watch this scene with them. 

“You know,” the ravenette said, “I really did like them for a while. They were fun to string along for entertainment, and they were a hoot at events and to run errands with. Such an awkward little thing. I could see their crush from a mile away whenever you three were around each other. I just thought they’d be the out-of-place, pining neighbor whose love was unrequited, a comedic plot device of sorts. I didn’t think you would actually return their feelings, let alone both you and your husband, you naughty dogs. I should have known sooner that something was up.”

You and me both, sister, you thought with a soundless snort.

“Oh well,” Agnes—question mark?—said with another shrug, “our friendship was fun while it lasted. Let me know if you ever get bored with them. We did often flirt a bit, [Y/N] and I.”

“What do they have to do with any of this?” Wanda asked, throwing a mild glower in the other woman’s direction.

“Why don’t you tell me?” Agnes responded with a sickly sweet smile, then walked past Wanda and out of the testing room. “Come along, dear! We’ve got much more digging to do.”

Wanda glanced at you one last time before following. After a moment, you trailed after them.

===

===

===

Past Wanda was sitting and watching sitcoms via the one amenity she had the dungeon-like room she was held in when your past self walked in.

“Wanda,” past you gasped and moved to rush to her side before freezing and throwing a glance towards a security camera in one corner of the room. The faintest blue-black light danced appeared to dance around your echo’s fingers as the lens of the camera warped and changed into a round silver disc, then the light disappeared and you watched yourself hurry to younger Wanda’s side. 

She didn’t acknowledge you until you placed a gentle hand on her back. She jumped a bit and turned her glassy-eyed, hollow-cheeked face towards you; in the same instant, the TV turned off. 

Past Wanda offered past you a wobbly smile that you returned. You reached into your pocket and pulled out a candy wrapped in colored foil that looked neon in comparison to the dull coloring of the rest of the environment.

“Hey, look, Wanda,” you tried, offering the candy to her, “I brought you something. Remember these? You told me once that they’re your favorite.”

Wanda stared blankly at your gift. After a moment, she took it and began picking at the foil.

Past you gave past Wanda another strained smile. Your furrowed brows caused deep lines to be etched into your forehead, showing no lack of concern, but you tried to stay positive. Gingerly running your hand up and down Wanda’s back, you carefully looked over as she freed the chocolate-covered candy from its wrapper. “You look good. You’re doing much better than you were when we brought you back.”

Wanda’s eyes lazily traced the pattern of the room’s stone walls as she brought her treat to her lips and carefully nibbled at it. When she found it free of tampering, she relaxed a bit and popped it into her mouth.

You watched as your past self rested their chin on her shoulder and squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m going to get you out of here, Wanda. I promise that I’m going to save you. I just… wish you’d let me help you more.”

Well, young me, you thought, you certainly broke that promise, then went off and murdered a bunch of people. Nice job.

Wanda’s past self finally fully acknowledged yours; she rested her head on top of yours and her thin fingers brushed brushed over the knuckles of one of your hands. She shook her head and mumbled, “I have to do this. For my people.”

Your echo sighed. The two of you sat like that together for a few moments longer before you separated yourself from her and headed out of the room. As you walked out of the room, the silver that blocked the security camera transformed back into a lens. Wanda looked back to the TV and blinked, and the television turned back on.

“Huh,” Agnes piped up to Wanda again, “they were just as piney here as they are in Westview then. Weird. I thought they had a reputation as a crazy psycho killer outside? Hoo boy, did you see any of the work that they did after Sokovia? I looked into it when I figured out that they weren’t just another ordinary townee. The Alchemist? Wished I’d managed to keep them on my side; I’d love to sit down and talk about all the ways they tore up those agents.”

You grimaced. You never regretted going on a HYDRA manhunt but it wasn’t exactly one of your most redeeming qualities.

Wanda frowned. “Trying to cope with all they had done while working with HYDRA was too much and they had to do it alone. I told [Y/N] I would return but then I never did. They thought it was their only solution.”

You were surprised to hear her empathize with you, let alone know about your revenge spree at all. You hadn’t realized how much it felt like a secret that you had been keeping from her until a weight was lifted off your shoulders when she talked about it.

“Still,” Agnes said nonchalantly, “turning an alive former HYDRA agent into a very much not alive scarecrow and leaving posting him up in his own field? Genius and I love the creativity. And the way they turned the guy who shot them into a bloody bag of bones? Delicious.

“But anyway,” she went on, the glee in her voice shifting to something more pensive, “little orphan Wanda got up close and personal with an Infinity Stone that amplified what otherwise would’ve died on the vine. The broken pieces of you are adding up, buttercup. I have a theory, but I need more.”

With a wave of her hand, a dark wood door appeared in the room’s far wall. Wanda’s eyes widened slightly with recognition and she immediately walked forward and through it. Agnes trailed cheerfully after her.

You made a move to follow them but you didn’t make it before Agnes shut the door behind her. You jiggled the doorknob but the door wouldn’t budge, and then it melted back into the wall and vanished altogether. While you were relieved to be away from Agnes’s acrid magic, panic rose in the back of your throat at the idea of Wanda being alone with Agnes and you being trapped in a bizarre memory realm with no idea of how to get out. You ran your hands along the wall in hopes of finding the door’s outline once more, to no avail. You spun around to search for another route—

—and you were suddenly standing on a street in Westview. 

This wasn’t Westview as you currently knew it but Westview before Wanda had turned it into her special little safe haven. Instead of watching this memory like a movie, you were now involuntarily reliving it as a prisoner of your head again as your body and mouth move on its own accord.

You were paused mid-walk across the street and staring at a breathtakingly gleeful Vision for the very first time. He was standing out in the open without a human disguise of any kind, wearing a very attractive form-fitting turtleneck and looking over an empty plot of land. He must have felt you staring because he turned his warm, earth-shaking gaze towards you.

“Hello there!” he hollered with a friendly wave and a smile that made you wonder if one look from a stranger could make you weep over how attractive they were. He stepped from the dirt plot to the sidewalk, then made his way to the curb. He held a slightly crumpled piece of paper in one hand and you could see a red heart in its center out of the corner of your eye.

For whatever reason—maybe because of the fact that there was a very inhuman-looking man, who was causing your body to have all sorts of reactions, walking towards you—you felt compelled to walk over and meet him. 

“Excuse me,” Vision said as you got closer and pointed to the lot behind him, “I’m looking to buy this spot here. Do you live around here?”

Temporarily, while I try to look for a cure for my dumb-bitch memory disease, you thought. Instead of saying this aloud, though, you said something much more stupid. “Are you aware that you’re red?”

Vision blinked. He looked at his hands if he was in fact just now realizing this, then looked back at you with wide eyes. One hand moved to touch the golden gem embedded in his forehead, which you now connected to the mind stone on the previous memory that you had experienced—Wanda’s memory. 

“Oh, goodness,” Vision said, “yes I am. I’m sorry, I hope my appearance doesn’t make you uncomfortable. If it does, I could make a more appealing one—”

You felt yourself break into a grin and one of your hands waved itself dismissively at him. “Not sure there’s a way to make yourself any more appealing than you already are. It’s just unusual is all.”

Vision chewed on one side of his bottom lip before smiling sheepishly at you. If only you’d been able to tell when this interaction had actually happened that he was “blushing” in the only way his synzethoid body allowed over you complimenting him; you would have had a field day with making him flustered.

Then his eyes drifted slightly above your eyeline and the hand touching his forehead gem fluttered slightly to the right—his left. Without thinking of how it might come off, he said, “You’re unusual-looking yourself.”

Luckily, you weren’t too easily offended. You briefly touched the gunshot scar on your forehead with one hand, the exit wound scar on your neck with the other, before dropping them both and shrugging. “Got shot in the head once. Operation gone wrong.”

“A soldier?” 

Unfortunately, the version of you in this memory was already struggling to recall memories. Instead of telling the pretty stranger that, though, you said, “Something like that.”

Vision nodded and awkwardly fiddled with the paper in his hands. His gaze flitted around before settling on you again, “Well, I think you’re appealing too.”

You felt your cheeks grow warm but you hid your embarrassment with a snicker. “Thanks.”

The man cleared his throat. “Yes, well, that’s good then, isn’t it? That we both like each other’s looks just fine. Not… that I want you to find my visuals appealing. Not— not that that’s a bad thing to be doing so either! It’s just that—” he paused to collect himself. “I have a partner. A girlfriend of sorts.”

“Of sorts?”

“It hasn’t really been discussed,” he clarified, “but we are deep in the throughs of our relationship.”

“Congrats? Also yeah.”

Vision blinked. “I’m sorry?”

You pointed over your shoulder. “I live around here. In a hotel more often than a home but I’m considering getting a rental a couple houses over.”

Because if I don’t find who I’m looking for—a doctor? Scientist maybe?—I’ll be stuck here until I remember where I came from.

    You were brought out of your grumbling thoughts by the childish excitement that erupted from Vision’s shining smile and spread throughout his body until he was practically vibrating. He quickly scrambled the rest of the way over and flashed the paper he held at you, then almost immediately folded it up before you could actually see anything other than a flash of red on white. He told you how wonderful it was to be meeting someone from the neighborhood and before you open your mouth to say anything in response, a billion questions seemed to pour one after the other from his mouth. You caught a few—did you know why the plot he was looking at was open, if there was a nefarious reason behind it lacking any home already? Was the neighboorhood safe, did you like it there?—but you soon found yourself distracted by the way the gear-like patterns in his blue irises swirled faster as Vision became increasingly giddy.

    Then one word came flying out of his rambling mouth and you felt like you had been hit in the gut with a sack of bricks. You actually had to stop yourself from choking on a gasping breath and steel yourself in preparation in case he said her name again. Luckily, Vision seemed too deep in his his own thoughts that he didn’t notice you blanching from the kickback of yours.

    Wanda? It couldn’t be. It wasn’t like there weren’t any other Wandas in the world. Then again, you’d never met another Wanda since your Wanda and there was something about her name coming from his mouth that assured you that his Wanda was yours too.

    Is that why you had come to Westview? Was Wanda the one you were looking for?

    You placed a hand on Vision’s shoulder, both as a way of grounding yourself and grabbing the man’s attention. It worked and Vision’s bumbling died off as he looked at you with wide eyes.

    “I’m so sorry,” he said, and lifted his free hand to scratch at the side of his neck, “I got quite carried away there, didn’t I?”

    This past version of you wanted so desperately ask about the Wanda he spoke of, to confirm that she was the Wanda that you’d known in what seemed to be a past life at this point. You wanted to know if she was safe, happy, and if he was taking care of her in the way that she so needed after everything she had been through. When you looked at Vision, though, and the plot plans in his hand and the place of his and her future home, you bit your tongue. Something told you that it wasn’t your time to ask nor was it your right to do so. It had been so long since you’d tried to help the Sokovian woman escape a dingy HYDRA base and failed, and wherever she was now, she was probably better off without you intruding.

    You put on a mask of a friendly smile to hide the way your heart was being picked to pieces by a thousand imaginary needles and gave Vision’s shoulder an equally friendly pat. “No worries. I do have to stop you, though, have an appointment to get to. I’m really not the person to ask about future home life—like I said, usually a hotel—but if I have anything to tell you, it’s that this is a good place to settle.”

    Vision beamed. “Really?”

    You dropped your arm and stepped away from the robotic stranger to take your leave. “This place is easy to turn into a home. You’ll love it here.”

    Vision heaved a sigh a relief and he waved to you and you gave a parting nod and began walking. “Thank you! Oh, and it was nice meeting you, neighbor! Hope to see you again soon!”

    Something deep in your heart told you that you wouldn’t be seeing the British gentleman again, or maybe you were finally coming to terms with the fact that your brain would drop yoru memory of him before the day was over. You cast one last glance over your shoulder, trying to commit every detail of Vision to memory the best that you could, before heading back across the street.

    “Looking forward to it!”

===

===

===

    One minute you were walking and the next you couldn’t feel any part of your body that was below your waistline. The scene had shifted again and you now found yourself staring spacily off ahead. You were outside and you felt the familiar presence of a large facility behind you but you couldn’t place what the building was for or why you were there. In fact, try as you might, you couldn’t place much meaning to anything. Your brain was blank aside from several questions that you had no answers to.

    Why were you in a wheelchair? What had happened to your legs? Why were you outside? Why were there old people and people in scrub uniforms milling around you and talking to you in passing as if you had any idea who they were? Where was your mom? You had classes to attend and needed a ride.

    You took a sighing breath and felt a tanginess of citrus on your tongue that sent shockwaves throughout your body—or what left of it that you could feel. Your eyes shot open wide and you swung your head around, looking for the source of the taste of candied citrus, the feeling of thin fingers carefully brushing across your knuckles. There was a memory there, clawing just under the surface of thought-killing fungus that seemed to have taken over your head over… however long it had been now. You just had to remember—

    Before you could could remember, you saw her appear before your very eyes. She was walking down the street past you with only a green yard and strip of sidewalk separating the two of you. She wore a dark outfit and her hair cascaded behind her in the breeze, fluttering like flames. You couldn’t see her face well because of the distance you could feel the deep, powerful sadness radiating off her in waves; it was almost strong enough to force you into tears. Still, she walked with purpose and she held a piece of paper in her hand that she glanced at every other second. She happened to turn her head to toss a stray chunk of her back over her shoulder and for a brief moment you thought that her dark eyes met yours.

    You screamed her name and attempted to chase after her. However, in that moment, you forgot that you were paralyzed from the waist down and stuck in a wheelchair, so when you lurched forward to stand, you were quickly greeted by hard earth knocking the wind out of you. You hissed in pain but the impact didn’t stop you, nor did your lack of working legs. You shoved the wheelchair away in a fit of irritation, then began crawling your way across the public yard, following a trail of a very specific shade of red as you dragged your body along.

    You didn’t make it very far before you felt strong hands grasp your shoulders. You flailed around, prepared to fight whoever was trying to disrupt your mission, only for you stop struggling altogether when a flash of reddish hair appeared in the corner of your vision. You looked up at and stared at the only face that held solidity in your mind with eyes the size of dinner plates as she knelt next to you and helped you into a decent sitting position. Once you were settled, her hands moved from your arms to cradling your face and when you could see the heartbreak in her eyes this time, you actually did feel a few tears wet your cheeks.

    Your eyes fluttered shut as her gentle hands caressed your face, brushed away the tears that were now flowing like a waterfall. Your own hands found their way to her waist and you held on for dear life. With a wobbly voice that was barely above a whisper, you gasped her name again, “Wanda…”

    You felt the warm touch of her forehead pressing against yours, her nose ungracefully bumping against your cheek as she held you. “[Y/N]?”

    Hearing your name on her tongue sent you into a fit of sobbing laughter, though you weren’t sure why. Goosebumps erupted across your skin and you felt the stuttering of a billion bird’s wings in your stomach, pounding against your ribcage. You had so many things you wanted to say and yet you could remember a single word, so you merely fell into a bumbling chant of “My Wanda, my Wanda, my Wanda, my Wanda…” Your eyes stayed squeezed shut for fear that if you opened them, she would no longer be there. 

    Wanda’s lips brushed against your eyelids and then your cheeks, not quite leaving kisses but a warm, tingly feeling nonetheless. A smile was there, you could feel the curve of it as her mouth traveled from your temple to your hairline, but it was one of the same sadness that you’d seen in her eyes. She mumbled against your scarred forehead, “Oh, [Y/N], what happened to you…?”

    You finally opened your eyes—luckily, she didn’t vanish into thin air once you did—and finally met her gaze again. You moved your hands to cover hers that still held your face and pressed them harder against your cheeks, as if you could imprint her fingerprints into your skin.

    After a moment of just silently basking in her presence, you sighed softly and replied, “I don’t know.”

    Pain further etched itself into the lines of Wanda’s face; you quickly reached out to smooth them out with your fingertips.

    “You don’t remember anything?”

    “Not much,” you replied. Then you smiled. “I know you. All I know for sure is you.”

    Wanda looked like she was on the verge of bursting into tears herself but she swallowed her sobs instead. She adjusted her position and sat back slightly, scrubbed her hands over her eyes and looked around at your surroundings. She glanced at the paper she’d once been holding but now sat in the grass next to her before her gaze settled back on you. Sadness shifted into determination as she took your face her hands once more.

    “I’m going to get you out of here, [Y/N],” she said, “I promise I’m going to save you.”

    You went to nod but the sound of something flying overhead caught your attention, then a flash of yellow light over Wanda’s shoulder.

    A powerful jerk in your stomach seemed to control your entire body, forcing your head and body upward. Then you were standing on the sidewalk on the outskirts of a neighborhood with a maze of twisted houses and picket fences behind you. You were no longer trapped inside your own head, watching or reliving memories, but standing mid-step in the Westview that was bubbled by a Hex of modern Wanda’s own creation.

    Vision was flying through the air nearby and approaching fast.

    Your powers seemed to move one step ahead of your mind; before you finished the thought, one of the fun mirror houses was turned into a staircase that led to nowhere in the sky. As you turned and began racing up them, you waved your arms in Vision’s direction and hollered, “Hey! Toaster oven!”

    Vision was clearly on a mission home but you managed to catch his attention before he flew too far past you. He rounded back around and met you at the top of your stairs. He quickly surveyed your immediate surroundings, taking in the bizarre scenery before casting a concerned look your way. “What in the world is going on here?”

    “Uh, well,” you paused and took a glance around yourself, then rambled off, “I just spent a nondescript amount of time trapped in a mental live-action remake of my past and I’m pretty sure Agnes is not Agnes but some unpleasant, magic-y person who kidnapped our kids and now is trying to get… something, I’m not sure what, from Wanda. Also, I think she might have a crush on me and I’m pretty sure she caused the carnival set-up next to us.”

    Vision blinked. “Well, that’s… a lot.”

    You hummed your agreement and nodded. Then you held out your arms to him. “Shall we?”

    Vision eyed you from your place on a freshly mutated staircase then snorted softly as he gathered you into his arms, bridal style. “Surely there must be a way for you to travel with those powers of yours.”

    “There is,” you affirmed, “but this is probably faster and I should probably keep my strength to save our kids and your wife. Oh, by the way.”

    Vision gave you a questioning him as he prepared for flight. You wrapped your hands around his neck and brought your lips to his in an quick kiss. When you pulled away, you met his curious gaze and said, “I’m so happy to have met you.”

    Vision’s expression grew warmer and returned your kiss with a softer one of his own. He briefly nuzzled his forehead against yours before pulling away.

    “I’m glad to have met you too,” he said softly. Then he shifted his gaze to look past you, towards home, and he said, “Now, let’s go get our family.”

[cybernaght]

The Rebel/叛逆者: A Review of Sorts

After being only semi-invested in the Rebel, I ended up getting so into it in the final weeks of its release, I’ve shelled out on IQIYI premium just to get the final couple of episodes a few days earlier.

That’s right kids, it’s a Review of Sorts. Unfortunately, I could not find a translation of the novella the drama is based on, so will be looking at it as a separate entity. 

Most of this post is spoiler-free, however I have dedicated a few paragraphs at the end of it to discussing the final episode, as there are a few specific things about it I wanted to mention. There is a clear spoiler warning before that part.

If you don’t want to risk it, TL;DR version of this review goes something like this: Rebel is very decent, and positively one of the best things that I have seen to come out of China since I’ve jumped into that particular rabbit hole. It’s pretty well written, it’s very beautifully dressed and shot, and the cast is killing it. I thought it dropped the ball a little in post production, and I did not always love the pacing. Other than that, it’s incredibly decent, and well worth watching, unless communist propaganda really irks you, in which case stay very well away. 

I have been having many conversations with @supernovasimplicity​ all the way through watching this drama, so there are likely to be some thoughts here that are influenced by those. 

The story centers around Lin Nansheng, a struggling servicemen in the Guomingdang party. He has a great analytical mind, and absolutely no emotional capacity for his job. He has trouble handling violence, he is impulsive, he cannot speak to his superiors without bursting into tears, and has nothing even remotely resembling a poker face. And that is what makes this drama as enjoyable as it is. 

I don’t think Lin Nansheng’s journey would have been nearly as exciting had he started it from a place of competence. He botches up everything he touches because his big brain switches off the moment his emotions kick in. And so, when you see him grow in confidence, learn to control himself, learn to fake his smiles and compliments, you can’t help but feel a strange sense of pride. It also makes Lin Nansheng very likeable as a character for reasons other than Zhu Yilong’s ability to look like a bush baby.

It did take me a while to feel fully engaged with his performance - not because there is anything lacking in it, but just because it’s hard to be truly surprised by his choices after the exposure I have given myself to his work. That said, at about a half-way point I got charmed by him anyway, and there were quite a few scenes that were truly mesmerising. There were scenes where he broke out of the familiar mould of big unguarded eyes and fluttering wet eyelashes, and tried something that was not pretty: every time to a great success. I am hoping to see more of that in his future work. 

I really wanted to like the female lead, Zhu Yizhen, but unfortunately both the way she was written and the way she was performed by Tong Yao left me somewhat cold. It did not help of course that the screenplay ended up sidelining her at every turn, leaving her with very little personal agency. She was set up so interestingly, but in the end her sole purpose became being someone for Lin Nansheng to pine over. It is particularly curious from a perspective of meta storytelling: seeing how this is all centered around superiority of communism, which as a whole was, arguably, ahead of its time in the matters of binary gender equality.

The ensemble cast of the drama is stunning. Wang Yang came very close to  stealing the show at several points as Chen Moqun, somehow managing to make his rather unlikeable character interesting. I can say the same thing about Zhu Zhu who absolutely shined as Lin Xinjie, showing an incredible range and imagination in her performance.

The overarching story of the show is engaging, with some incredibly suspenseful elements; every narrative arc including a nice progression through it. As spy thrillers go, it was fairly well plotted. You could if you go looking for a few things that did not pay off in a satisfying way (notably, the Chekhov’s cyanide capsule), but you overall the story really was well told for the most of it. 

I did, however, feel like the pacing started to fall apart in the last quarter of the drama. Last episode in particular really did feel rushed, not just due to its pace, but also in a way it failed to pay off the final mission in any visible way. There will be more on that in the spoiler section of this post.

Important to note that The Rebel is a show made in Communist China in the year 2021. It does not ideologically side-step from the path that was laid out for it by that fact. Which is to say, it is, undeniably, filled with propaganda. Communists are the good guys, and if you think a good guy (or gal) is not a communist, they probably secretly are. With one exception of a friendly character who is not a communist, and whose fate we actually never find out. Curious, that. 

The Rebel is not a kind of a show where censorship-appeasing scenes are shoehorned in. It’s a kind of a show in which the main theme is Sacrifice For the Party.

Aside from the being the moral vector of the show, Mao’s gentle teachings explicitly help get Ling Nansheng out of prolonged depression following his injury, and almost annoyingly, this sat incredibly well with the character, as he was written. Lin Nansheng is conceived as this naive idealist who wants to be on the front line, who needs validation and support of others. His - and I can’t believe I’m saying this - his being disillusioned in his beliefs and choosing to join a party which includes people whom he likes and trusts makes sense. Him finding this one thing that gives him hope and letting it propel him into gaining confidence and competence makes sense. 

In many ways, the Rebel is a story of Lin Nansheng’s failure to become an antagonist within the world of the drama.

I have honestly spent this past couple of weeks pondering whether being well written makes political propaganda better or worse, whether the subtlety of it makes it more or less palatable, whether it’s enough, as a viewer, to be aware of it to shrug it off. Ultimately, this is not something I could or should make moral judgements on, but I do believe that it’s possible to acknowledge the fact that propaganda exists in the drama, and still appreciate it for a good piece of television that it is. 

That said, I am very well aware that me being kind of okay with it stems entirely from my own removal from the culture this is made in, and I am, perhaps, lucky to even have a choice as to whether I want to engage with a product which is, undoubtably, here to dress political ideology in fancy clothes.

I have, on the other hand, also seen many things in Russian media of the “Annexation of Crimea is Good Actually” variety and those make me feel very unwell, so feeling somewhat at ease with blatant political propaganda in Chinese media makes me the biggest hypocrite.

But, I digress.

Before we go into some specific plot-related things, I would like to mention that the Rebel has this weird dichotomy in which the production is sublime, and the post-production… not so much. The show very well shot. Every element of it sits perfectly together, not a single prop out of place, not a single extra underdressed, not a page of script not put to good use. It’s lit to perfection. It’s scored beautifully. So much of this show is just stunning.

And then… there is post-production. 

This is not even about bad CGI (and the CGI is, indeed, bad), it’s just that most of post-production as a whole feels rushed.

Starting with surprisingly imperfect editing, which at times just fails to make the scene flow together. The final line of dialogue would be spoken within a scene, and it would fade to black instantly without a single breath to indicate a full stop. A montage sequence would be created, but every shot within it condensed to a second, making it feel incredibly fast-paced when the effect should be the opposite. There would be a cut away from a speaking character and to the same speaking character from a slightly different angle, making it dynamic without any reason to do so. There are a couple of truly startling jump-cuts.

I did not speed this gif up. This is part of a romantic montage, edited like it’s a goddamn action sequence.

And of course dear old friend slowing down footage shot at 24FPS. Please don’t do this. You think no one notices - but we do.

There are other tell-tale signs of production rushing to the finish line: occasional, but very noticeable ADR glitches, very sloppy job done at sound mixing, which contribute to parts of the show feeling ever so slightly off.

It’s not unforgivable, but it does make me wish the same amount of care and efforts that went into shooting this drama would also go into it after it was all in the can. 

Oh, and just because if you know me you know I have a professional fixation on fights, and I am happy to say most action scenes are toe-curlingly delightful. Hot damn those fights are good. I am absolutely in love with the shot below, for example. Placing an actor behind a piece of set so he can exchange places with the stunt double during a one shot is such an old trick, but the execution, timing and camerawork are just... flawless. This is what perfection looks like.

Now we got all that out of the way...

SPOILERS FOR THE SERIES FINALE BELOW

Here’s the thing. I wanted to love the ending and I found that I could not.

The final mission was presented as important, and honestly the scene in which Zhu Yizhen is sending the vital message out as Lin Nansheng holds his ground in hand to hand fight is incredibly dynamic. Party, this is due to the fight itself being incredibly well choreographed, yes, but it’s also where it sits within the narrative, how high the stakes are for everything surrounding it. 

But then, the tension all but bleeds out. The Important Message is sent, the fight is won, and we are treated to ten minutes of a very slow car chase, problem of which is not even its speed as much as its placing within the story. As in, by this point both of those operatives have lost their cover, and completed their Very Important Mission. It would be very sad if they died, but their survival does not technically contribute to their cause. Moreover, Zhu Yizhen getting mortally injured in order to protect Lin Nansheng as part of her mission read a little empty when the mission is technically over. 

While I personally found Lin Nansheng slow recuperation and his low key ending enjoyable, I think I would have preferred to have seen a more tangible pay-off to all the sacrifices made in the name of “bright communist future”, just a little more justification for every moment of death and despair we witnessed. I would have certainly at the very least preferred to see Wang Shi’an’s death on screen. Considering how many likeable characters martyred themselves on screen, denying us the death of the one antagonist just seemed cruel. 

I really did love the ambiguity of the final few scenes however, if we consider the children choir at the end a fantasy. The idea that Lin Nansheng will live out his life in this hope that Zhu Yizhen is still alive, imagining her just outside of his field of vision, his only joy being in this fantasy of her… now, that is incredibly strong. I equally like the idea of rest being promised to him at the end of his journey, and said rest being painful, and slow and unwelcome.

But it felt like as they chose not to to lean into the “sweet” part of the bitter-sweet tone of the ending and we’re unable not commit to the “bitter” part either, so it lands with a splat which is somewhat lacklustre. 

---

This concludes my thoughts on the Rebel. 

I am more or less out of Zhu Yilong’s filmography to watch, which is probably a good thing at this point. I have just emerged out of several back to back work projects - literally today - and will hopefully once more have time for things I grew to enjoy doing during the lockdown. 

Those things, if you have not guessed, include watching Chinese television and writing things about Chinese television. 

[thewildwaffle]

The Gardener - Part 3

Continuing from this story     Part 4

How the human had managed to land this hunk of junk without getting themselves killed was some stroke of dumb luck. That was clear the moment Nipti pulled the drat thing into the shop. It was even more clear as he crouched into it to look at the ship’s meager engines. He’d had to teach himself the basics of small engines and different machines he used around the various gardens. However, that didn’t mean he was any sort of expert, especially when it came to something as big as a ship’s engines. That being said, even he could tell that the ship was going to need parts. A lot of them. “What is this- uhg, is this being held together with tape?!?” That was not up to any code he knew of. In fact, the more he saw of this ship the more he realized it was less of a ship and more of one giant collection of safety, engineering, design, and who knows what else protocol violations! This was hopeless. At least, for Nipti. He was a gardener after all, not a mechanic! Not to mention he still had his chores to do today. He sighed as he straightened his back and stretched. Well, might as well head back to the green garden. Make sure the human hadn’t gotten into anything too dangerous. They may be from the same planet as many of his specimens, but that didn’t mean they were completely immune to their dangers. And also, maybe he could get them to help out with his chores there if their offer to do so was genuine. Nipti carefully retreated from the trash scrap the human called a ship and started up the hoverbike. When Nipti arrived back at the Green Gardens, he didn’t see the human. He watched the raspberries, waiting to see moving branches or signs of their presence. The leafy plants only moved gently with the wind. Where had they gone? As Nipti parked the hoverbike, he noticed the pails the human had retrieved from the supply shack. They were filled with red, purple, and golden yellow fruits. Well, nearly full. The human must have eaten about half of one of the buckets. Or maybe they just had finished picking and put the bucket with the others. Nipti looked up and around again for where the human had gone, now a little worried. They said the raspberries were fine for them to eat, he hoped they hadn’t been overestimating their ability to process the xylitol in them. Maybe they were sick and had to lie down. But where?

“Marley?” Nipti called out. He kept telling himself that the human was fine. They were from Earth, they knew these plants potentially as well or even better than he did. He wasn’t sure why he felt so worried. He decided it must just be that he really, really didn’t want to deal with a sick or injured human in his gardens. That was definitely a good reason after all. “Marley?!” “Over here!” he could just make out their voice farther back in the foliage to his right. He gave a small sigh of relief, then shaking his head, donned his protective gear, and headed toward the sound of the human’s voice. He wondered if maybe they had found something else edible. That might be nice. Until their ship was fixed or a replacement procured, it was looking like they’d be here a while and he wasn’t quite sure what humans ate. Raspberries were one thing, but surely they needed more to their diet than that. As Nipti carefully pushed aside bushes and plants that he noted looked like they were in desperate need of trimming, he twisted his way into where he had heard Marley’s voice. As the human came into view, he stopped dead in his tracks. His plants. They were torn out of the ground, their scraggly, branching roots spreading out every which way except down in the dirt where they belonged. Plant after plant in the clearing looked like they’d been ripped up, bunched together, and thrown down. It was like something out of a horror story. “My plants!” Nipti cried, rushing forward and grabbing the human as they tried to pry up another specimen. “What have you done?! Why would you do this to my plants?!” Surprised, Marley released the plant they’d been pulling at and fell back onto Nipti who in turn fell back and landed on a pile of pulled vegetation. “Dude, what the heck? What was that for?” Marley rolled off of Nipti and pushed themselves back up onto their knees. “What was that- what do you think that was for?!” Nipti gestured at the carnage around him. He frowned down at the small crushed bunch of flowers his plants had started sprouting. Such a waste! Such a tragedy! Perhaps he could replant some of them, it might not be too late for some. “What, do you mean the weeds?” Marley’s eyebrows lifted at different angles as they looked between their mess and Nipti’s devastated expression. “I thought you’d be happy. You have quite an infestation of garlic mustard, you know.” “Infestation?! I planted these! What do you think you’re doing by ruining my garden like this?” Marley frowned and stared at him for a moment. “You mean you meant to plant these? Like, on purpose?” “Of course I did! You know I get plenty of tourists who come through my gardens and step on things here or pull a plant there, but never, in all my time, have I ever had someone go as far in their destruction as you, you monster!” The human looked hurt, and perhaps a bit unsure of themselves for a moment. They looked around the clearing again and their eyebrows squinted together. “Nipti, I’m sorry about angering you. I was trying to help.” Before Nipti could cut in, Marley held up a hand to silence him. “I do have one question though. Or actually two. First, how many of these did you plant?” Nipti frowned. What? What did that matter? He looked down at the crushed plants beneath him again. Then around the clearing where there were more piles all around, and more still that hadn’t yet been picked. “A little more than half a dozen or so.” Marley nodded. “Second question. How long ago did you plant them?” Nipti turned his attention from the numerous plants around him to Marley. The realization was starting to dawn on him, but it was slow coming so far. “About two and a half solar cycles ago.” Marley nodded as if that was that. Nipti, still not quite understanding what the human was getting at and still not quite ready to let go of his anger and shock, stood back up. “What does that matter? You still had no right to ruin my gardens as you did.” Marley’s eyes did a small spin in their sockets as they too got to their feet. “This garlic mustard propagated this much in that short amount of time. I’m saving your garden. I know a noxious weed when I see one.” Nipti’s retort stopped in his throat. What? “Noxious weed? What do you mean?” Marley gestured to their surroundings. “Noxious weeds. They’re what happens when a plant that’s taken out of their native environment and put into a new one where they turn invasive and can cause damage or even kill native plants or wildlife that compete for resources. They can destroy ecosystems if left unchecked.” Nipti frowned as Marley bent down to grab one of the plants by the roots. “Garlic mustard can choke out undergrowth and releases toxins into the soil that kill vital networks of fungi that other plants and trees need.” Marley ripped off a handful of triangular leaves. “They’re edible though, so I guess there’s that.” Nipti nodded slowly as he took it all in. “Noxious weeds,” he repeated quietly. “But if they’re that bad, then why do they not completely overrun all of Earth?” Marley arched their back in a stretch and leaned on a nearby shovel. “Well, they try. The places they’re native to have the right conditions where they’re naturally kept in check. Outside those conditions, they put their survival mechanisms to use and overwhelm ecosystems that aren’t adapted to deal with their tactics. People try to fight them and cut ‘em back, but sometimes it becomes a bit of an uphill battle.” Nipti silently gasped. Battle? Were the humans really at war with the plants from their own planet? He looked around at the clearing they stood in. Well, he supposed it did kind of look like a battlefield of sorts right now. Marley looked around as well and exhaled. “I don’t think they’ve done too much damage yet though. We’ll have to keep an eye around the area though. Garlic mustard seeds spread on the wind, but I don’t know how many of these have gone to seed just yet.” They walked to another patch of garlic mustard, pausing at the large pile they fell in earlier. “Do you have a place to put these? Like a bag or something? I can eat some, they’re still pretty young, the bigger ones I’ll have to cook the cyanide out.” “Cook the cyanide out?!” “Yeah, I can add them to a stir fry or make a sauce or whatever out of those. We just need to get them out of here.” Nipti sized up the number of large piles of pulled plants. This was a lot to take in. First, his garden was torn up, then he was told that the plants growing there were trying to kill his other plants, and now he has to figure out a way to clean all this up and prevent some plant infestation? He had done so much research when selecting specimens for his garden, what soils were necessary, watering information, light, humidity, pollination needs, on and on and on. He looked into everything he’d need to make sure every plant in his garden could thrive. He just never realized that some plants would go on to thrive at the cost of killing off other plants. He provided everything they needed, after all, there was no need for that. But the plants didn’t know that. They were created on Earth, a known category three death world. Survival of the fittest was hardwired into their DNA, and no luxurious life in his or anyone’s garden was going to change all that. “I’ll go get some bags and wagons to carry these,” he turned and headed back in the direction of the hoverbike. “Oh, before you go, real quick,” Marley called out. Nipti turned. “Did you happen to notice anything… odd about my ship when you were looking it over?” Odd? Nipti wondered. Odd was the least to worry about with that ship. “In my honest opinion,” he responded, “your ship is a piece of junk and you’d be better off selling it for scrap and parts. If there are any working parts left that is.” Marley made a low noise that sounded like a mix between a growl and a whine. “That bad, huh?” “I’ve never seen anything so malfunctioned before in my life.” The human’s shoulders dropped. They looked so sad, like a fledgling kuipik that’s forgotten where its den was. Nipti sighed. “If you really have it in to fix the drag blast thing, you’re gonna need a complete overhaul. Those do not come cheap, nor am I anywhere near qualified or capable of doing anything more than a tune-up. You'd have to hire a mechanic. And a good one at that.” “How much are we talking?” “Almost as much as it would cost to buy a ship that size new.” “Ouch.” Marley closed their eyes and tilted their head back up to the sky. After a silent moment, they nodded and began pacing. “Okay, okay. I’ll figure that out. In any case, I’m going to need money, and lots of it then. More than what I’ve got now, that’s for sure.” They stopped. They stared at the pulled plants around them. Nipti didn’t have much experience with humans and their wildly varied expression, but even he could see that Marley was thinking hard. After a few tiks, they nodded. “Nipti? You said you have a lot of tourists pop in, right?” “I do. They can be a real pain in my tail most of the time.” “I don’t suppose those tourists would mind a bite to eat while they peruse the gardens.” Nipti narrowed his eyes. Marley continued “And if they didn’t bring a snack, or if they wanted to sample some exotic foods while visiting exotic plants, made by what may be to them an exotic alien, they might be willing to pay some real tourist-trap level prices.” “I don’t know if I like where this is going.” “It’s just an idea,” Marley stopped pacing. “Like you said, fixing my ship isn’t going to be cheap. I know you love your gardens and having a human literally fall from the sky suddenly be your problem wasn’t part of your plans, but I’m willing to help you with your plants and dealing with tourists, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get my ship fixed. Maybe I can kill two birds with one stone?” “I’m going to assume that’s an Earth idiom.” “Yes it is.” Nipti sighed. Putting his head in his hands, he slid his slender fingers over his nasal ridge. “Okay. That may be a good idea,” he conceded, “but as of right now, it’s just an idea that needs a lot of thinking through and careful planning.” Marley’s face split into a toothy expression, the corners of their mouth turned upwards. They raised their hand up in a fist, except their opposable fifth digit was extended upwards. He stared at them. They stared back. “I’ll go get those bags then,” Nipti once again turned back toward the hoverbike. Thankfully, he had left it in the sun to recharge. He had already made more back and forth trips from his workshop and quarters to the Green Garden today alone than he had any time in recent memory. And by the looks of all the garlic mustard he would now need to transport, he would be making a few more before the day was done.

Part 4

[foundationsoftheslay]

please tell us ab your kj ocs backstories omg

THANK YOU JET I LOVE YOU

so velvet cyanide right (thanks again to dirk @dilfslayer9000 for letting me use that kj name)

velvet was the oldest of three children; when they were about 4 years old, they got two twin siblings, named trixie and rebel. at this age, velvet didn't have a killjoy name either; their given name is phoenix, and they still go by it sometimes (they also answer to "nixie"). they came up with their killjoy name when they were 11. the twins, however, didn't live long enough in the zones to get their killjoy names.

the family thrived as their own crew, all up until, when velvet was 7 and the twins were 3, their parents were killed in a firefight. luckily, they were close with another crew, so that crew took them in. they all thrived together until velvet was 12 and the twins were 8. a sickness was spreading around the crew; one of them caught a mysterious illness, and the rest of the crew kept the kids away from the ill crew member as much as possible. but, by the time 3 of the 5 other crew members were infected, velvet caught wind of what was going on and fled the crew as to not get themself - but most importantly trixie and rebel - sick. sometimes you have to leave your crew to save yourself and others, no matter how much it may hurt to leave them.

velvet used all the skills they'd picked up over the years to try and provide for themself and the twins, and given that they were 12, it was hard, but it wasn't impossible.

two weeks into the kids staying on their own, better living got their hands on the twins. velvet would never see them again; unbeknownst to them, the twins were re-educated in battery city. trixie was released to be a normal citizen, while rebel was turned into a S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W exterminator. (yes i am thinking of an angsty scenario where velvet goes into a firefight when they're years older but rebel's one of the crows there and it breaks velvet)

velvet mourned for a bit, but quickly moved along with their life, trying to fend for themself. it was all they could do; if they kept mourning, they'd be dead in a heartbeat.

they kept looking for places to hide out, usually taking abandoned places. they didn't want to be around crews. they knew it would be safe to be around them, but they saw themself as a bad luck charm. their parents were killed by exterminators, their other crew eventually died out from a sickness, and their younger twin siblings had been 'napped up by better living. they didn't want to cause anymore harm.

eventually, one place they crashed at was dr. death defying's station. they'd heard him on the radio a couple times; they remember how much trixie and rebel liked his energy and the music he'd play. those memories made velvet smile.

like the few other crews that velvet had ended up crashing with before, the radio crew offered to take in velvet, and just like every time they'd been asked this question, they declined. but unlike all the other crews, the radio crew insisted.

well that'd never happened before.

most crews left it be; killjoys believed in kids having freedom of choice, as long as those choices weren't too destructive. wanting to basically be a nomadic killjoy wasn't too destructive of a decision. the question the radio crew brought up though, was: "is it really safe?"

velvet knew it was probably more safe to stay with a crew, but they were stubborn and they were scared. they declined again, so the road crew let it be.

but as velvet went to leave, they just couldn't.

there was something about this place, about these people, that made them feel safe and loved and protected, even in just an overnight stay.

so, they stayed.

they bonded really well with all of them, becoming particularly close to agent cherri cola. he'd been through a lot, and he'd lost his siblings. the two could relate on a lot, and being able to relate to someone was something velvet needed. something that they both needed.

over time, the fabulous four killjoys started to come in. the first was jet star, who'd been a nomadic killjoy like velvet, but it was for most of his life rather than just months; he'd lost members of his crew one by one over the years. he was 17 when he came in. next was ghoul, shaken from being a better living lab rat ever since xe could remember. he was 15. the last were the venom siblings, who'd come in freshly from an escape from battery city. poison was 16, and kobra was 14.

velvet bonded with them very well too; they were around their age, while all the radio crew were like older siblings or parent figures to them. so, when the fab four moved to the diner, velvet went with them.

velvet doesn't consider themself to be part of either the fab four or radio crew, and they'd like to keep it that way.

they still love each and every one of them nonetheless.

[365days365movies]

April 5, 2021: Arsenic and Old Lace (1944) (Recap: Part One)

Yeah, so...Spectrum exploded last night.

So, I'm unfortunately a little behind. BUT NEVER FEAR! I'll get back on time before you know it! So, uh...where were we last time? OH RIGHT! Let's talk about black comedy. And I don't mean black-and-white comedies, or comedies prominently featuring African-American culture and demographic. No, I mean dark comedies.

The "black comedy" functions off of macabre or taboo humor and jokes, and is often closely associated with biting satire and commentary in film. That definition is loose as hell, I know, but it's all about the subject matter. The most common subject matter for dark humor is death, of course, and related subjects to death. War, murder, strife, madness, and violence are also common topics here.

Some of the best comedies are black comedies, though. For example, Brazil (1985; dir. Terry Gilliam) focuses on themes of depression, dreams, terrorism, totalitarian governments, and madness. And it's GREAT. How about The Death of Stalin (2018; dir. Armando Iannucci)? The title ALONE should tell you everything you need to know about the tone and topic, AND YET...

It's HILARIOUS. And also informative! If you haven't seen it, I definitely recommend it. And again, that film is about, well...the death of Stalin, and the fallout of his disastrous and murderous regime. Dark, DARK topic, but very funny movie.

Dr. Strangelove, or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb is about war; Fargo is about murder in North Dakota; Heathers is about a toxic relationship and the death and murder of teenagers; Birdman, or The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance is about an actor's existential crisis and complete mental breakdown; and Trainspotting is about the devastating effects of drug addiction and features a DEAD BABY FOR CHRIST'S SAKE...and yet they're all full of laughs! Except for the baby scene. Fuck me, the baby scene in Trainspotting.

So, yeah, these are a diverse group of films, that's for sure. But where does it all start? There's 1942's To Be or Not to Be (dir. Ernst Lubitsch), which is about a Polish theatre company who need to escape in the midst of...well, 1942 Poland. If you don't get why that's dark, you should probably look up some history, bud. Charlie Chaplin would dip into the role in 1947's Monsieur Verdoux, which I mentioned last time. And there's the seldom-talked-about Kind Hearts and Coronets (dir. Robert Hamer), a 1949 film about murder for status, essentially.

But it's hard to argue that the most prominent early black comedy is 1944's Cary Grant vehicle, Arsenic and Old Lace.

Directed by Frank Capra, this film was based on a 1941 stage play, and is about...well, we'll get to it. While its prominence as a black comedy is one reason I'm watching this movie, the other is...well, to be honest, this is a movie I heard about CONSTANTLY from my Mom, as this is one of her favorites. And yet, like Dirty Dancing, I've somehow never seen it! Let's remedy that.

So, without further ado, let's get into it! SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

The film starts off with a BANG, as a man calls me a “big simp” to my face! Actually, he’s screaming at a Brooklyn Dodgers game, where a massive fight breaks out. This fight quickly transitions to a city hall, where a line of people are waiting to file marriage licenses. Amongst the line is Mortimer Brewster (Cary Grant) and Elaine Harper (Priscilla Lane).

Brewster is hiding from the press, as he’s a famous reviewer, and author of the Bachelor’s Bible, and it would be quite the scandal for him to get married. And yet, he’s head over heels in love with Elaine. After going through an existential crisis about the whole thing, he gives into Elaine’s sweet demeanor, and the two file their marriage license officially.

It’s Halloween day, and we move from the city to the suburbs of Brooklyn, where two policemen, O’Hara (Jack Carson) and Sanders (John RIdgely) are on patrol. Sanders tells O’Hara of the kindly Brewster Sisters, the sweetest women on Earth, both of whom live in the neighborhood. Currently, they are being visited by Reverend Harper (Grant Mitchell), Elaine’s father. He’s speaking with Abby (Josephine Hull) and Martha Brewster (Jean Adair), the kindly aunts of Mortimer. 

Also living there is Mortimer’s brother Teddy Brewster (John Alexander), who apparently believes that he’s Teddy Roosevelt, which is...hilarious. Dude is hilarious, seriously. The cops come over to visit the two, and collect some clothes and toys for local charity. Also, Teddy only leaves a room by screaming “CHAAAAARGE!!!”, and running up the stairs, and I love Teddy a lot.

Reverend Harper and the cops leave for the night, and the sisters settle down for the evening. Abby and Martha state that their plans for Elaine and Mortimer should go as scheduled, which is probably talking about their marriage. Abby also mentions that she’s done something while she was away, to Martha’s delight and surprise. They tell Teddy that he’ll soon be digging a new lock for the Panama Canal...whatever that means.

Martha’s about to go to the basement to see what Abby’s done, but she states that because she was all by herself, the surprise is in the window seat. As she’s about to look at the surprise, Elaine shows up in the window, and the two arrive to give the happy news that they’re married. Elaine goes to tell her father of the news, while Mortimer goes to tell his sweet aunts. Afterwards, the two will be on their honeymoon, going to Niagara Falls. And I should say, they’re quite a sweet couple.

After telling the news to his aunts, he asks them where his notes are for his new controversial book, Mind Over Matrimony. They go to look for it around the house, and Teddy comes downstairs, dressed up in attire to “go to Panama.” Aunt Abby comes across a childhood picture of Jonathan, Mortimer’s brother and apparently a violent sociopath or some sort. She goes to burn the picture (geez), and Mortimer continues to look for the notes. He goes to the window seat.

Yup! It’s a body! Looks like Abby and Martha’s sweet old lady act is a guise for some myurder! Which I know, just because it’s the most famous thing about the movie. However, Mortimer thinks the murderer is Teddy, and tells his sweet old aunts about the body, asking that he gets put into an asylum. But Abby notes that Teddy didn’t kill the man, and they already know about the body!

Which, yeah, surprises Mortimer, obviously.

Abby cheerfully admits that the man, Mr. Hoskins, was poisoned by a tainted glass of elderberry wine, and that they did so on purpose, hiding the body before the Reverend came for a visit. The whole thing isn’t a big deal; it’s just Abby and Martha’s little secret!

After they leave, and brush off the whole thing as easy as needlepoint or macramé as a hobby, Mortimer, is completely broken by the whole affair, and is partially convinced that he’s dreaming. All the while, Elaine’s trying to get Mortimer to come over and speak with her father. But Mortimer can’t exactly forget about this whole silly murder thing, and goes to confront his aunts about it. He learns that Teddy’s digging not a lock, but a grave in the cellar. As he’s done with 10 other bodies. Or maybe it’s 11 others?

After picking up a phone call from Elaine, then hanging up abruptly (and understandably), Mortimer finds out how this whole thing started. See, the two have a “Renters Wanted” sign in their front lawn, and the neighborhood thinks that it’s there so the two sweet old ladies can offer help to anyone in need, even though they aren’t actually renting to anyone. In reality...well, they do it for another reason.

See, an older gentleman stopped by a bit ago, and he had a heart attack right there in the living room. After seeing how peaceful he looked, the two decided to bring in other lonely old men and bring in the same kind of peace. And from there...well, yeah, you get the general idea. They’ve been poisoning them with arsenic, strychnine, and cyanide mixed in with elderberry wine. Apparently, Martha’s got the mixture just right so that it tastes delicious. With all this explained, they offer Mortimer a sip of wine. Which he’s understandably nervous about.

But with all of that done, Elaine comes over to check in on him. But he’s not able to tell her anything, which greatly (and understandably) confuses her. He basically kicks her out (which enrages her, once again understandably), and calls a judge with the intent to frame the whole affair on Teddy, who’s always been.unstable. Which, for the record, is not even SLIGHTLY going to solve the problem.

But as he’s on the phone, a man named Gibbs (Edward McWade) comes in to rent an apartment. He’s all alone in the world, with nobody to care for him. And of course, this leads to the women trying to poison him with the wine. It’s a funny yet tense moment as he stops just short of drinking the wine, distracted by Mortimer’s freakout over the phone. But Mortimer gets off the phone JUST in time to scare Gibbs away and stop him from drinking the wine. And it is...VERY funny, goddamn.

As Mortimer tries to tell the aunts exactly what’s wrong with what they’re doing, the phone rings. It’s a call from Witherspoon (Edward Everett Horton), who runs an asylum that Mortimer wants Teddy committed into. However, they don’t quite have room for him, as they have too many Theodore Roosevelts at present. However, they do need more Napoleon Bonapartes. I love this goddamn movie.

Still, Witherspoon agrees to take him in despite that, and Mortimer head out to get the paperwork done. However, he asks his aunts to not do anything until he gets back, and he also proises that he’ll attend the “services” for their latest victim. He leaves, and kinda steals a cabbie’s car in the process (I love this movie, I’m telling you), and Abby and Martha start shutting things down for the night. However, as they do, they get a mysterious knock on the door. They pretend not to be home...only for a man with an ominous scar to enter the room regardless.

Let’s pause here, shall we? See you in Part 2!

[bbrandy2002]

My Love

 Chapter 13

Pairing: Liam x MC

Warnings: Violence, Language

Well, this is the final chapter before the epilogue. For a story I started last August and put away thinking no one would ever want to read, I was proven wrong. I cant imagine I will write another story that I love as much as this one. It turned into something I never planned and if you could see the original outline, it is nothing like this. But I appreciate you all so very much for sticking with it and willing to accept an out of the box plot line. I love each one of you who messaged, reblogged, liked, or commented...like seriously, it was my motivation to keep going and to do better.

A/N: Thank you to @mskaneko for the moodboard above. I saved it just for this chapter because it captures the heart of the main characters and this series so well.

And @burnsoslow I swear to God, you are the bestest friend I could ever have asked for. I'm sure you have just as much of yourself in this as I do. You've not only edited the hell out of this series, but literally dropped what you were doing to do so. There are portions you've written or just made better. I CANNOT THANK YOU ENOUGH...EVER for brainstorming, your ideas, talking me out of my stupid ideas and cheering me on. I hope you always know how much I appreciate and value your friendship and help.

With her heart and mind racing in unison, Riley’s hand rapidly shifted the gears of Maxwell’s black Aston Martin Vulcan.  Her knuckles whitened from their tight grip on the steering wheel as she pressed down harder on the gas pedal of the luxury sports car. The V12 engine roared with fervor when they sped up down a straight stretch of dark highway; the momentum caused both she and Maxwell to jerk back harshly into their plush leather seats. Her passenger’s disapproving glare and heavy groan had no effect on her. The only thing on her mind was the impending death that awaited her in the Cordonian harbor ahead. 

Riley had no recollection of her first death, nor the physical pain her body experienced from the cyanide she had unwittingly ingested before bed weeks ago. The effects of the poison ravaged every cell in her body and hastily shut off her respiration. Those two tiny pills that Amanda had offered her that day to relieve a headache had consumed and destroyed the organs in her body in less than six minutes. If the message Olivia had revealed to her in a dream less than an hour ago was any indication, this second death would be twice as horrifying. 

Recalling the heavenly conversation in her head with the apparently deceased Duchess of Lythikos, Riley saw an opportunity. If she were to believe Olivia’s prognostication and warnings and followed through with her former rival’s directions, was it possible her story could end differently? She had nothing left to lose and everything to gain by finding out. Her fear of dying for the second time, however, was staggering. 

A devilish smirk curled Olivia’s bright red lips as she arched a sly brow. “It's time, Riley. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll do exactly as I tell you.”

Would this plan even work? 

Shaking her head to dismiss the terror that threatened to overcome her, Riley flashed a glance over at Maxwell’s lap. His nimble fingers cautiously attached lead wires from an old cell phone into a c4 pipe bomb they had swiped from the armory. There were only two people she knew who had ever handled explosive devices: one she trusted — Olivia -- and the other she was astonished hadn’t already blown them up. “Maxwell, are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

Swiftly peeling off a strip of duct tape and biting it in half, he puckered his forehead in deep concentration and wound the strip carefully around the explosive contraption. Pausing a moment to inspect his work, his eyes shot back to her with a flash of uncertainty. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough.” 

Shaking her head to dismiss the terror that threatened to overcome her, Riley flashed a glance over at Maxwell’s lap. His nimble fingers cautiously attached lead wires from an old cell phone into a c4 pipe bomb they had swiped from the armory. There were only two people she knew who had ever handled explosive devices: one she trusted — Olivia -- and the other she was astonished hadn’t already blown them up. “Maxwell, are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

Driving through the entrance that led to the marina, Riley dimmed the car’s lights and pulled into the empty spot furthest away from the vast cluster of docked boats and yachts. Shutting off the engine, she bit the corner of her lower lip and stared blankly at the moonlight’s yellowish glow treading along the ripples of seawater in the distance. As much as she wanted to be brave and strong, believing it was the only way she could get through this, she wasn’t ready. How long would she struggle and claw her way for a single breath as the ache and emptiness in her lungs became something she could no longer fight for?

God, help me, she thought as she closed her eyes and the first stream of tears rolled down her cheeks.

Maxwell placed a comforting hand on her cold and trembling forearm. “Riley. You don’t have to do this. We can turn around right now and --”

“No!” She swiped roughly at the tears that flowed steadily. “I knew what I was getting myself into when I came back, Maxwell. This was always meant to be temporary, and I agreed to it knowing full well the repercussions of that decision. Olivia warned me: This is the only way to ensure Amalas doesn’t hurt Liam or Ellie after I’m … gone.” 

Riley’s head fell back against the headrest, her chest rising and falling in rapid succession. She rolled her head sluggishly to the right to catch Maxwell’s worried eyes still fixated on her. She drew a shaky breath. “Promise me something, Max.” Her raspy voice was barely above a whisper, and he nodded back with his full attention. “Make sure when Liam gets here … well, just … just don’t let him get himself killed trying to save me. Can you promise me that?”

Maxwell ordinarily lived for intense moments of danger, but even this was beyond his level of comfort. 

He turned away from her. Nothing made sense to him at that moment as he shook his head and gazed silently out his window, not knowing what to say to her. His best friend was minutes away from another death, and he was nowhere near ready to face her absence in his life again, especially one based on a dream. And somehow he could sense his friend knew more than she was telling him.

This was insane.

“Maxwell?” Riley pleaded. “Please.”

He spun his head back around to face her again, wanting nothing more than for her to change her mind and return to the palace. Unable to avoid her plea, he huffed with a half-hearted smile, “You already know I will. That’s not even something you have to ask.” 

Riley breathed a heavy sigh of relief before reaching behind her seat for the leather satchel she brought. “Then let’s do this.”

Maxwell set the timer for 15 minutes, which would allow her enough time to walk to the small yacht where Amalas awaited Riley’s arrival and for the boat to pull away from the marina. The last thing they wanted was for someone innocent to be harmed when the pipe bomb detonated. Whatever plan Olivia had shared with Riley was clearly upsetting to the woman he thought of as a sister and yet, he trusted it. As Maxwell gently lowered the explosive into the bag she held open for him, he caught a tiny glimpse of hope behind the dread in her eyes that suggested this was bigger than he realized.

As Riley shrugged off her sweater and placed it inside the bag to conceal its contents, Maxwell noted the time on his watch. The minutes were passing by faster than she realized when she opened her door and gave her passenger a knowing look. 

“You know what to do, right?”

Maxwell nodded. “Wait for Liam and Drake to get here. Search the port side of the boat after it explodes for you. Aaaand …” He smacked his forehead several times to remember the last point.

Riley’s brows bumped together in a scowl. “And don’t let anything happen to Liam!”

He threw his hands up. “Okay, okay, I got it!” Pausing for a moment, he watched Riley step out of the car and adjust the satchel on her shoulder. “Riley, wait!” he called before hurling himself across the console to look out the driver's side door. 

She leaned down into the car. “What is it, Max?”

“Will I ever see you again?” His voice cracked.

Straining to hold back her own tears, Riley closed her eyes and took his sadness to heart. She wanted to give him the truthful answer: She didn’t know what the outcome would be, only that Olivia was working on it. There were a million things that could go wrong, and she had no control over the situation. She opened her eyes back up, barely able to make out Maxwell’s downcast face in the darkness, and smiled softly back at him. “I hope so.”

After closing the car door, she sucked in a deep breath and exhaled steadily to calm her nerves before making her way to the docks. As she made long strides towards the marina, she pulled out her phone and glared at the text message Amalas had sent to her with the location of her boat. She shut her phone off again, not wanting to trigger the explosive before it was ready. 

Through trepidation, her heart pounded.

Through adrenaline, her body shook.

As waves crashed and sprayed along the shore, her senses heightened. She shivered from the cold sea air that swept over her bare arms causing her teeth to chatter. Tiny droplets of rain washed away the sheen of sweat that clung to her blanched face from her hairline down. No matter the outcome -- whether Olivia could find some way for her to stay or not -- she was going down on her terms. If the only thing that happened in the next few minutes was guaranteed protection for Liam and Ellie, Riley won.

“It’s about time you got here.”

Recognizing that voice from their many encounters in ballrooms and a Texas bar, Riley tossed a glance over her shoulder. The thin silhouette of power and intelligence stood with a hand on her jutted hip and a power suit that matched her over-inflated ego. Riley curled her lips while the weight of anticipation for revenge built in her chest. 

Standing on the deck at the stern of her small yacht, Amalas cocked an eyebrow. “I don’t have all night, Amanda. Are you just going to stand there?”

Riley turned on her heels, clutching her stomach protectively, and stepped up the wooden planks that led to the deck of the yacht … and her destiny.

Amalas gestured for Riley to have a seat while she poured a glass of champagne for herself. 

Riley  the bag from her shoulder and placed it at her feet.  Before taking a seat on the cushioned vinyl sectional that lined the railing of the boat, she swiped away the tiny drops of drizzle that had sprayed in under the canopied roof. She crossed her legs and tried to get comfortable. “So … you needed to see me?”

Amalas laughed wryly and placed the champagne back in the ice bucket. She took a sip and twisted around to face her adversary. “I did need to see you.” She lifted the glass to her lips and spoke coolly. “Queen Riley.”

Internally, Riley laughed at being called out. At this moment, it didn’t matter what Amalas knew, nor did it matter that Amalas thought she had the upper hand in the situation. You’ll be overcooked fish food in about five minutes, bitch. Riley shrugged her shoulders with a cocky grin. “I suppose my little secret is out of the bag. I assume you have a mole in my palace.”

Amalas chuckled sardonically as she casually took a seat on the opposite end of Riley. “Of course I have a mole in your palace. I had to see that my dear cousin was fulfilling her obligations. Imagine my surprise, though, to find out what that cocksucker, Neville, did to her … such a shame. But, I will say, it certainly helped that you and your king weren’t exactly discreet in your ... activities. And someone may or may not have overheard a discussion or two between your little squadron of BFFs.”

Riley felt the boat shudder under her feet as it pulled away slowly from the marina. She took in a deep breath and placed a hand over her tummy.  Shit … this is it. Hold on, little one; we’ll be together soon. Everything was occurring quickly and exactly as Olivia had told her it would. Liam will be here soon.

She tilted her head to face Amalas, whose eyes swept over Riley’s shoulder. Before Riley could follow her gaze, a strap of leather wound tightly around her neck from behind, cutting off her airway. She instinctively tried to fight her way out of it but knew it was useless. Her bulging eyes watched Amalas smirk, swirl her champagne, and down the rest of her bubbly drink. 

“I always win, Riley. Even if I have to kill you over and over again.” 

The guard who was strangling Riley understood this statement as his order: “When you’re finished and the Queen of Cordonia is dead, toss her overboard.”  The guard nodded as he continued to tighten the strap, and the Queen of Monterriso walked away, feeling confident of her victory.

____________________

Maxwell shuffled along the wet pavement, his watery eyes never once looking away from the yacht Riley boarded as it left the marina. He had never wanted to break down more than he did at that moment. Knowing that she was scared, that she was alone, and that she had just sailed off to her death -- it was too much for him. 

And he had a front-row seat for all of it.

Frustrated that he was losing sight of the boat in the darkness, he cursed under his breath and considered hijacking a vessel to go after Riley himself. That was, until the screeching of tires in the distance pulled him away from his thoughts. He turned to see a truck speeding toward him. Maxwell knew exactly who it was and flailed his arms to catch their attention.

Liam jumped out before Drake had a chance to stop the vehicle completely. Barrelling towards Maxwell, his white button-up still stained with Neville’s blood, Liam was noticeably in full panic mode. 

Skidding to a halt, Liam grabbed both of Maxwell’s arms and jerked him closer in desperation. “Where is she, Maxwell?”

He nodded to the open waters. “She left several minutes ago with Queen Amalas.”

Liam glanced out with his fist balled in his hair. “Fuck! Why the hell did you let her go?”

“I tried to stop her, Liam -- I swear it -- but she wouldn’t listen to me!”

Drake tugged on Liam’s elbow and pulled him away. “Come on. You can stand here and argue with Maxwell all night … or we can get a boat and go after her.”

Liam’s eyes darted around the marina until he set his sights on a cabin cruiser several rows over. He jerked away from Drake and hammered his feet in its direction. Hoisting himself up and over the railing, his friends following behind him, he banged frantically on the cabin door with both fists. Drake and Maxwell searched the aft deck for something to shatter the glass of the door with until the distinct click of a lock and a middle-aged man in nothing but his boxer shorts appeared in the doorway. The man appraised Liam and scowled. “Who the fuck do you think you are, banging on my door in the middle of the night?”

Liam pushed his way past the man, and Drake grabbed the occupant by his arm before he could go after him. “That’s the King of Cordonia. You can either get your ass off this boat now -- or I can put you off. Your choice.”

Maxwell unraveled the ropes from the cleats on the dock that secured the boat and made his way to the helm. Drake started the engine and maneuvered them away from the marina. Liam turned to Maxwell when he heard him approaching. “Which way do we need to go?”

The youngest Beaumont wasn’t entirely sure. Under the blanket of darkness, his sense of direction was skewed. Maxwell pointed in the path he last recalled, knowing that the explosive would ignite any second. “Head northwest … but there’s something you really need to know.” 

Before Liam could respond, his breath hitched, and a sense of emptiness and a hollowness in his chest suddenly overcame him. It was like one of the greatest parts of himself had suddenly slipped away.

Again.

Liam didn’t need to ask himself what it was; he already knew. It was that same feeling he’d had in a chilly hospital room almost four months prior. And as much as he wanted to shake that feeling, to simply deny it was there ... the heart didn’t lie. 

His love was gone.

She had returned, just as she wrote she would in the letter to him. Just as she told him from the very beginning would happen. Except this time, she was taking a tiny part of himself with her, one he hadn’t known they’d created until Drake showed him the final message Liam would ever receive from his beloved wife.

As a lone tear slipped down his cheek, he wept to himself, “Don’t be scared, love. I’m coming to get you. Both of you.”

_______

Riley’s arms fell listlessly to her sides. Her lungs now completely empty of oxygen and her heart no longer beating, the guard unraveled the strap from her neck, leaving behind a deep red ring on her pale skin. 

Adhering to the orders issued to him, the guard lifted her lifeless form with ease. Her brown eyes were void of expression as they stared blankly into nothingness. Her head bounced loosely in his arms with each step closer to the railing.  Without hesitation or compassion, he tossed her like a rag doll into the tranquil waters of the Mediterranean Sea. 

The body clung to the surface, bobbing along with the gentle waves.  

Riley’s soul departed from the shell she had inhabited: the body of her killer. For the first time in over a month, she felt like herself again. Her skin bronzed and her hair darkened. The flatness of hips and chest she had grown accustomed to grew curvier once again. An aura of radiance and warmth surrounded her. 

Approaching the heavens from where she came, Riley smiled down at the tiny infant curled into her arms. If she didn’t know better, she would swear it was Ellie. ”Hello, you.”

“I see you finally made it.”

Riley chuckled. “Good to see you too, Olivia.”

Olivia crossed her arms and eyed the baby curiously. “I see you couldn’t keep Liam off you this time, either.”

A giggle escaped Riley’s lips as she looked down at the bundle again and caressed the soft downy curls that covered their tiny head. 

She glanced back up to her friend. “I miss Liam and Ellie already. I love them so much, Olivia.”

The duchess placed a hand at the top of Riley’s back and guided her forward. “I know you do. The kind of love you shared together never goes away … I don’t entirely understand it, but I knew it was you in that ballroom by the way he looked at you. By the way you looked at him. It was slightly nauseating.”

“Just slightly?”

“Fine, it was thoroughly disgusting. Satisfied?”

Riley rolled her eyes in amusement and chuckled. “Even in death, you’re still the same Olivia Nevrakis we all know and love.”

Olivia waved her hand dismissively with a groan. “Well, this place is entirely too … cheerful and pleasant for my taste. I’ll have to oversee some changes to all this daily merriment.”

“Good luck with that,” Riley snickered. She stopped walking and turned to Olivia with a knowing look. “Soooo ... what happens now? Were you able to ... you know?”

Olivia looked to the lighted pathway. Riley followed her gaze with apprehension, her eyes demanding an answer to the question. 

“It’s time to go, Riley.”

“Where?”

______________

Drake held tightly to the steering wheel as the boat hit a melee of turbulent swells. The explosion in the distance made it easier to track the location of Amalas’ boat, but the choppy waters were difficult to drive on.

Liam stood heartbroken but silent, wearily watching out the glass panel in the boat's front. The debris that burned and spread across the sea lit up the black sky. And directly before that rubble, according to Maxwell, he would find the body of a woman who meant nothing to him. She was just a temporary placeholder for the woman he loved with all of his heart and soul. 

In his mind, he knew Riley and their baby had returned to join his mother. That finding the body that belonged to Amanda Talbert would be just that: Amanda. 

Riley Brooks rested under an apple tree at the edge of the garden maze where he had laid her to rest months ago. She would forever belong to the ages.

She had returned to save him from his anguish. His despair and loneliness. 

But mostly from himself.

And she left tonight, having saved him and their daughter from an evil plot. 

What was it about his wife that she could defy life and death to save him? It didn’t surprise Liam; Riley had rescued him the first night they met. Now she had given her last breath to do so again.

The heat from the mangled, burning boat and its debris was intense. Drake steered as close to the rubble as was safe to do so and dropped the anchor. 

Liam took a deep breath, feeling the weight of sorrow pressing against his chest and the hands of his friends’ comforting grasps on his shoulders. 

The three men exited the cabin together and stepped onto the aft deck. Each man scanned the waters that were lit brightly by the soft glow of a thousand twinkling stars, a silvery moon, and the orange flickers of nearby flames. Even with Maxwell describing the area Riley told him they would find her, it was proving to be an impossible task. 

But not one of them was willing to give up. 

This woman wasn’t even Riley, but it didn’t matter. For Maxwell, Drake, and especially Liam, she was proof that what took place the last few weeks was real. That what they felt in their hearts was true.

“Liam!” Drake tapped his best friend's arm and pointed to remnants of boat pieces. ”I see her. Right there.”

Liam squinted, not really seeing what Drake was pointing to at first, until she finally came into view. He stood there, frozen, not wanting to see her like that, not ready to accept what was obvious now: Riley had left him again.

“I … I can get her, Liam,” Maxwell offered through a sniffle and a wispy cry. “I’ll be gentle.”

Liam smiled softly back at him and shook his head. “I know you would, Maxwell. I appreciate that.” He reached down and removed his shoes, tossing them to the side. “But this is something I feel I should do.”

Liam climbed over the railing and stepped off into the water under the watchful eye of his friends on board, who were ready to jump in at a moment’s notice. 

Swimming through the serene waters that had a tinge of warmth from the surrounding fires, Liam made his way through the littered sea. All around him, black plumes of smoke billowed from pieces of fiberglass and plaster. The air was thick with the pungent odor of sulfurous diesel fuel.

 He didn’t understand why these actions meant so much to him. Yes, this woman was proof of the spiritual connection he had shared with his late wife, but she was also the one who took her from him. Why did he feel so drawn to her at this moment? Why did he feel he had to be the one to rescue her from a watery grave? He could very well leave her there, knowing it was what she rightfully deserved for what she had done to Riley. 

For what she had done to him. 

Liam recognized her clothing as she lay still, face down, on the surface of the water. Wrapping one arm around her, he attempted to swim back but found it difficult to do with one arm. Drake, noticing this, tossed out a rope and held onto the other end. Liam wound his wrist around it and began the slow journey of being pulled back to the boat.

_________

“Where am I going, Olivia?” Riley asked with a toothy grin. “Am I staying here or were you able to help me?”

Olivia smoothed down her red sequin gown with a mischievous gleam in her bright green eyes. “Never underestimate a Nevrakis, Riley. I told you I would find a way for you to stay and ... I did.”

Shocked to hear those words, that she would return to her family and friends, Riley let out an elated sob. “Are … are you serious? I’m going back? I’m really going back?”

Olivia nodded. Her thin red lips twisted into a satisfied smile.”Yes. You’re going back.”

“And my baby too?”

“Package deal, Riley. And before you ask … this isn’t temporary. When you return, it’s a done deal. It’s final. The big guy doesn’t want to see you back here for a very long time.”

Riley laughed through her tears of joy. “I sure hope I don’t let him down, then.”

“Heh. Me too.” Olivia turned to face her, her features more solemn now. She motioned behind Riley. “Now ... Your Majesty, I believe it’s time for you to go.  Liam’s waiting for you.”

Riley gave Olivia a small smile. “I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you for what you’ve done.”

“Don’t even bother trying.” The duchess shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m just sorry I’ll miss you two trying to explain all of this to people. I may have to sneak out of this joint and see what you come up with.”

Riley laughed before her expression grew more thoughtful. “Goodbye, Olivia.”

She smiled back affectionately. “Goodbye, Riley.”

____________

Drake and Maxwell reached over the rails and looped their arms around Liam, pulling him up to the deck. 

Exhausted and gasping for a refreshing breath that didn’t include saltwater and ash, Liam collapsed to the floor. Amanda was still wrapped protectively in one arm, her face nestled against the crook of his neck.

Winded, Drake and Maxwell hunched over with their hands resting on their knees.

As the crackles and snaps of fires echoed softly in the background, a brilliant light glowed from the sky and illuminated Amanda with a golden haze.

With eyes wide and mouth agape, Maxwell fell to his knees, speechless. Drake took a half-step forward, his eyes full of astonishment and wonder.

Liam could feel the warmth against his skin and naturally angled his head toward it. As the light faded away, his blue eyes met her brown ones. It was the same two pairs of eyes that had locked on each other in a New York bar two years ago. They shared a silent gaze charged with emotion and passion. It both electrified him and made his heart flutter. Liam studied her eyes, her radiant smile, her face that was as beautiful as a sunrise.

She looked like his Riley. She felt like his Riley. 

With his eyes brimming with tears and love, he swallowed over the lump in his throat and closed his eyes. “I’m dreaming, aren’t I?” 

A sweet smile emerged on her lips, and she brushed her thumb over his damp cheek. “No, my love. You’re not dreaming.” Her voice spoke softly and tenderly. “Open your eyes, Liam.”