#i just really wish people knew more about how the government works

[saturnianspaceghost]

Also you guys know Biden can't just... Remove the current justices, right? Like they either have to die, willingly retire, get impeached by Congress, or be convicted of a crime. Only one Justice has ever been impeached (Samuel Chase in 1804), but even he wasn't removed from office. The ONLY power the president has in relation to the Supreme Court is to appoint Justices when there are vacancies.

I really don't wanna sound like a dick here, but... If you're American, you really should familiarize yourself with the Constitution and how our government works. The text is available for free online, and here is a link to a summary of all the articles:

Understanding how the government actually works is SUPER important, especially if you're an activist who wants to see positive changes. It's much easier to work within the existing government and change it from the inside than to organize (and successfully implement) a revolution to topple said government.

To be clear: even in the best case scenario the government is not perfect. But the Constitution was meant to be a LIVING document, and if we can wrest the reins away from corporations and right wing lunatics, we can change the government to better reflect ALL of us and actually make all the positive changes we want to see

just saw the phrase "[Biden] couldn't be bothered to stack the supreme court" and jesus fucking christ

tell me you don't know how the supreme court works or, like, anything about american history without telling me

(hint: the one time court packing was floated as a legit possibility, the only guy who was re-elected four times couldn't do it because of how wildly unpopular it was. it's called "court packing" because that's the name it was given in the press as a pejorative. IT WAS CONSIDERED A BAD THING.)

(also it's not like biden can just decide to do shit on his own. the size of the supreme court is dictated by statute. are you telling me biden would convince even one republican to make the supreme court more liberal? is that what you think would happen?)

[gatorbites-imagines]

Ok so I know you said you have been unmotivated with smut lately, but you don't have to write this if you don't want to. But basically it's Scott summers x male reader where they are best friends, maybe they have some secret feelings that they have never confessed too. So male reader decided so bite the bullet and confess with out confessing, and is like " you know a few bounces on it never hurt a friendship", ( lol like the meme) and smut ensues.

Scott Summers x Mutant male reader

Headcanons

Readers got electrokinetic and magnetic powers, because I couldn’t think of anything original, and ice powers are already yoinked up by Bobby. So, ice cold head is gonna be saved for another day.

I feel like my Scott obsession shines through in this… enjoy some longer work

Feedback wasn’t the most original or coolest sounding name, but hey, it had been Scott’s idea, and you had a soft spot for him from the very beginning. So, Feedback it was. Seeing how Scott puffs up a little when you explain he came up with the name almost makes up for Logan picking on you for it.

Being great friends with Scott, makes most people assume you are a hardass like him. And yeah, you have your moments. You see how much Scott stressed about keeping everyone safe, as well as dealing with the US government and the likes, so yes, you take it seriously.

Your lightning powers lead you to also bond with Ororo, though you are not completely at her level. You cant control the weather, but you sure as hell can use electricity and lightning, and you’ve learned how useful it can be.

It took a lot of training, but who else can paralyze a person without it being lethal as easily as you can? Or fry most electronics or vehicles, even guns and other weapons? You are at least a little proud of your powers.

And maybe it has to do with the fact that Scott always seemed to preen, at least a little, with pride whenever you show how far you’ve come. You are the exact same with him, and your “broship” is kind of a thing in the X-men

To the point where the entire mansion, or island if its on Krakoa, get tense and start tiptoeing around when you two are fighting or arguing. Seeing you two not talking and avoiding each other is as uncomfortable as seeing Deadpool around, except its worse.

It always leads to some of the others, typically the younger mutants, trying to set up some kind of heist you get you two to get along again. Most of the times it fails, but the failure is what brings you together again, in a sense.

You also typically give Scott small zaps with your powers, to get his mind off whatever he’s too focused on. or the times where he lets you run light electricity through his muscles when they bunch up. Him groaning and huffing in relief is only an extra on top of the cake, since you already get to fondle his back.

Your feelings for Scott aren’t as much of a secret as you wish they were. Charles knew almost the very moment he met you. Apparently, you used to project your thoughts quite a lot, and he was growing tired of seeing your fantasies.

After that you got better at hiding. You especially worked hard to suppress and hide it when Scott got together with Jean. Yeah, it hurt your heart, but you never really thought you two would be more than bros.

But to show Jean some respect, you get less touchy and grabby with Scott. In the past you might have smacked his ass after training, or groped his pecs and arms, making some excuse about his gains. But with Scott in a relationship, it didn’t feel right.

Scott did the same thing with you, but… it was only because you did it first, right? So, its not like hed notice. Obviously, he does, Scott being so vigilant about the people around him means it takes him less than a month to be completely sure you’re avoiding him.

That doesn’t mean he says anything. Instead, he just kinda lets it stew. The relationship between you grows… tense in a way. Its not like you two are arguing, but you are trying to pull away enough to wash away whatever feelings you have, and Scott is sure you hate him for some reason, and he doesn’t know why.

In the end its actually Jean that confronts you about it, much to your embarrassment. She’s surprisingly kind about it, or you guessed it wasn’t surprising. Jeans an amazing woman, which was why it was no shock she swooped in and caught Scott’s heart.

Jean knows all about your feelings, but also Scotts. Scott loves her, very much so. But he loves you just as much, he just hasn’t realized it yet. Scott easily just pushes those feelings aside as platonic, or some deep loyalty to his best friend.

So, what if he sometimes has dreams about you holding him down and fucking him so hard he needs his visor, since his shades would be sent flying. Or his regular dream of you using small sparks of electricity to play with him.

But somehow Jean saves the situation. Being able to read minds is great, since it makes her feel safe and secure in her relationship, enough to know that you are both good men, and that you’d never act on your feelings with her in the picture.

This is how it continues for a while. Scotts with Jean, and you have some flings of your own. Over the years you kind of have a thing with Logan, then Warren, and a kind of “ill scratch your itch if you scratch mine” with Remy when he and Anne Marie have their moments.

And yeah, maybe there’s a couple of others on that list that you don’t speak too much about it. Its not your fault Deadpool can be weirdly charming and handsome sometimes. And that one time with Magneto is not something you’ll ever mention, to anybody. You get a feeling Charles knows about it though. You have a feeling Magneto told him.

All in all, you never end up with a long lasting “official” relationship. Its kind of hard to give your heart to someone else when Scott still has his name printed across it in big letters. You’re not like Scott, whose heart is big enough to fit multiple people

What you have with other people is always just casual and never means anything. Well, you do get closer to Logan. Its… a weird situation. He still has a thing for Jean, and you have a thing for Scott, and you help each other out when times get tough.

You thought Scott was gonna kill you when he caught you chewing on a cigar. It’s not like you were gonna smoke it, but seeing him huffing and puffing about you chewing on one of Logans cigars made your pants a bit too tight for comfort.

It really doesn’t help that Scott bulks up over the years. Logan may still call him slim, but there’s nothing slim about him. So, there might be more grope to the smacks you give his ass sometimes, how can you not, it’s so… grabble.

And you are always too distracted by his just… soft and big he is back there, hes even got butt dimples man. It means you never notice how Scott might just arch his hips back a little, or the way his thighs twitch when the excess electricity runs from your fingers into his skin.

Sure, him for thinking about those fingers inside him, its normal. He thinks. Its not his fault you have really nice hands, and the way electricity crinkles around your fingers is way too hot sometimes.

You once licked the electricity off your fingers, the sparks jumping from your fingers to your tongue. Scott knows its just for fun, or be a dick, but god does his front and back twitch think about it.

How you confess can happy in many ways. But the main factor is that Scott and Jean are no more. Maybe shes died, like she does in some comics. Or maybe they just broke up since they grew apart.

But one way or another you just confess. Maybe its after one of your rolls in the hay with Logan, and Scott finally doesn’t have Jean to redirect his attention too and his jealousy boils over. It leads to an argument, with you just spilling that you slept about because you couldn’t have him.

It hurts, after the confession leaves you. You’ve kept it tight inside you for years at this point, and seeing Scott just freeze up makes you feel even worse. You just get your keys into your hands with a flick of magnetic energy, before Scotts upon you.

The floors really uncomfortable, and the air is knocked out of your chest, especially as he places his bulk on top of you, Scotts hands on either side of your head.

Even with the visor giving off its usual red glow, Scott couldn’t get more handsome. The quiver in his lip and how he keeps nipping at its insides. “Scott…” you breath out, hands twitching at your sides, wanting nothing more than to settle on his nice, plush with muscle, hips.

Kissing Scott was everything you had ever imagined, and more. He tasted like the coffee hed been drinking, the brand you always hated but still bought because it was Scott’s favorite. The one he would always brew too strong, and never add any sugar or creamer too.

And yet, as his tongue rolled against your own, you couldn’t think of anything more delicious. It felt more like you two were trying to eat each other, to see who could devour the other one first after being starved for so long.

Any other time you might have been embarrassed about how wet and slick your kissing was, and just how loud it was. It seemed to ring through the empty room, Scotts hands already pulling at your shirt as you allow yourself to truly grope and feel that plump ass of his.

Youd touched Scott many times before. Hell, you’d even touched him naked here and there. But those times had been for medical reasons, or that one time to keep hypothermia at bay. This felt so much more intimate, so much… more.

The lamps in the room flickered as Scott pushed himself up to get fully undressed, your irises lighting up as you finally got to just stare. He was so hard, and with him standing above you he felt like a god, in his own way. You must have said this out loud, since Scott blushed and dragged you up.

It felt like being a virgin again, tumbling into bed and kicking off what clothes you had left on, hands groping and exploring. When it came to men, you had a lot more experience. You honestly only had experience with men.

That didn’t mean you almost didn’t bust on the spot when Scott sat himself down in your lap again, nothing between him and your cock. You couldn’t see it, but you could feel how his ass just draped around you, the smirk on Scotts lips so cocky you almost wanted to smack him.

With that thought, your body seemed to respond. Youd never really shot electricity from your crotch before, but the loud high-pitched yelp from Scott told you just that had happened.

You immediately wanted to apologize, fearing you had ruined the mood. A violent shudder ran through Scotts body, a deeper more guttural groan leaving his body as he rocked against you, precum spilling from him like a faucet. That had felt better than hed ever imagined.

The world felt like it was shrinking more and more until all you could think of was Scott Summers, and how felt against you. How he felt around your fingers as you stretch him open, and the loud wails of want he lets out, when you let the smallest flickers of electricity zap from your fingers to his prostate.

Youd always had a code of sorts, that your partner at least had to finish once, preferably twice, before you would enter them, or let them enter you. And with Scott it was so easy to wring them out of him. You almost wanted to just keep milking him for all he was worth.

Recognizing the look in your eyes, at least somewhat, had Scott tapping his foot against your tip, which was enough to remind you of how hard you really were, and how sensitive.

It gave Scott enough time to flip you onto your back, and with a recklessness you wouldn’t see from him every day, he just sank down on you.

All that working out made it easy for Scott to ride you, his thighs and hips working in harmony, his fingers digging into your pecs as you both groan and huff, letting out noises neither of you had ever let out before.

Kissing Scott as he rode you was a pretty name for it. in reality it was more just your open mouths pressed together as you both panted and drooled, tongues just rubbing together every now and then.

Having edged yourself until now meant you didn’t last long. As Scott shoved you over the edge your vision went white, and you had a feeling the popping noises you heard were the lightbulbs around the room.

It felt like Scott was draining your very soul of your body through your dick, his behind was diabolical. Part of you wanted to joke about him doing some other kind of training without telling you, but your teeth still felt like they were made of static, so all you could do was groan and gasp.

The high-pitched noises from Scotts mouth still registered to your fuzzy hearing, and the splatters of white against your torso made something inside you settle, knowing he had finished too.

The air was knocked out of your chest again as Scott slumped against you like a puppet getting its strings cut. The only noise in the room was the sound of your shared panting and wheezing, as well as the faint buzz of the ruined lightbulbs.

“you’re paying for that…” Scott finally mumbles breathlessly against the side of your neck. A snort leaves you, head still feeling like a thunderstorm and tv-static as you work your arms shakily around him. “Fine… but I’m picking the brand” you reply, voice slurred and tongue floppy in ways you hadn’t experienced in years.

Scott clearly wanted to laugh at your state, but he wasn’t much better himself. He couldn’t feel his legs, and it wasn’t completely because of the zap of electricity you’d sent through his entire body, as much as it was just how good it had felt.

You both needed to cool down, and maybe a nap. And then a good, long, cold shower. Scott lazily mentally noted down that he needed new sheets and lightbulbs, but not much else happened. For once his head felt blissfully silent, in the way only you could make it.

[idyllcy]

i'd stay, cancel my flights, change everything just to be in your life

word count: 11.3k

summary: parallel lines holding hands, side by side til the end of time

"You're leaving?" You raise a brow, watching as Leon, sweet 21-year-old Leon, pulls his suitcases to the door with all the boxes of his things.

"I have to." He frowns. "You won't move to Raccoon with me, and it's—"

"Landlines cost a fortune to use. I know." You close your eyes. "Will you write to me?"

"I can try." He doesn't dare to look you in the eye. You know he doesn't want to leave. He knows he shouldn't just break up with you like this. Is this the end of your relationship? All because the two of you refuse to do things to stay together? Is this selfishness... or is it something else? Did Leon ever really truly love you?

"Trying is too much. If we're truly meant to be, may we cross paths in the future once more." You hum. "I'll help you move the boxes."

"Will you visit?"

"Depends if you invite me." You crack only the lightest of jokes, boxes put into the back of his car as he closes the trunk with a thud, fiddling with his fingers as he looks at you.

"I guess this is goodbye?"

"May our paths cross again." You hold your hand out, and Leon pulls you in instead, arms wrapped around your waist as he squeezes, heart racing painfully against his chest.

He doesn't like that he has to make this decision.

"I'll see you again, I promise." He mumbles.

You watch Leon Kennedy drive into the sunset, stuck staring from your place in the suburbs as his car eventually loses itself in the light. You wonder if that is a sign of something. Is it possible to blind yourself from the light? Is it dooming to force oneself into the sun? May his wings not burn off, you decide. No matter how far, you hope that he will be kept safe. That is all that matters to you. And when he is inevitably too close to the sun one day, may the embrace of the stars catch him and hold him close. The sun is a star, after all.

Yet, the sun gives warmth to life, and when you're stuck staring at the two lines on the test, you think the sun has burned you for getting too close.

You only ever receive one letter from Leon the entire time the two of you are apart.

Signed two days after his new beginning, delivered five days after the destruction of Raccoon City, you are given all of the details of what had occurred during the time that Leon had been in that place.

Don't come find me, as I no longer hope our paths cross ever again

Heed my words, LSK

You decide to do what Leon knew you did best. The story of Raccoon City is turned into a bestseller, people crowding to read more about what your mind could conjure about the mystery of Raccoon City on the news, desperate to get some sort of twisted release. You do not heed Leon's words. You do not answer to the desperate public. Instead, you disappear after the release of the novel. You're sure that Leon's more than happy to see you disappear from the public as he had instructed you to do so. You would become a thorn in his side— or something. You're not quite sure. Do you care all that much? You wish you could say no. You know nothing more than the fact that Leon survived. However, from the fact that he knew so much, you can only assume that he ended up working somewhere in the twisted political system. Perhaps not politics... perhaps government.

Your daughter is born, a sweet girl that you decide should take your last name instead of his. It is a curse, that last name of his. His sweet girl should not have to deal with everything that comes with being of his blood. Your sweet girl belongs to you rather than to him. She will be raised and loved and cherished until she knows that it is not worth it to throw your life away simply because you have fallen in love with someone. She will be the new light in your life, and you will choose to bring joy to her life to the best of your ability.

When you catch Leon at 27 on the news after saving the president's daughter from Spain, you do not feel anything.

You hope not to feel something. Are you supposed to feel something? Is there anything left to feel for a man who has not been part of your life for over 6 years? It would be pathetic to mourn over what could have been. It is truly not your problem. You do not get the luxury of being in his life anymore. Perhaps, he did not want the luxury of being in yours. "I no longer hope our paths cross ever again." Are you supposed to just move on? Leon, the man that you are.

Your daughter asks you how work was when you pick her up from elementary school, and you tell her that you had caught a government agent returning home after a particularly hard mission. She asks you if you have a story to tell her, so you tell her the story of how you met Leon, his youth and yours entwined as you promised to stay together until the stars in the sky burned out, but you don't tell her that it was her dad. You tell her that it was a story you heard from a friend because you would rather bear the guilt of lying to her than let her know that her parents were cowards — that you were a coward.

At 28, you catch a glance of Leon in the window of a coffee shop in the capital, eyes meeting his for a second before he turns away first and decides that you are not worth the time.

It hurts more than you'd like to admit.

Instead, you continue on your way to your interview, wondering if you should just ditch now that you are aware that your blind guess had been correct. Leon Scott Kennedy was in the capital of the country, and you would be stuck in the vicinity of him at all times if you took the job. Though, you really can't pass up on such good pay. What right do you have to complain if you receive a pay far better than anything else? Who are you in a capitalistic system that will inevitably drive you to ruin one day?

You wonder why there are so many rhetorical questions that spin in your mind.

Yet, you stay in the capital because you know it is better to move on face to face than to mull over the shadow of what it could have been.

What use is a hypothetical in the face of reality?

Besides, it mattered more than you had a child to feed.

When Leon is 35 (you're still counting), the two of you meet at a press conference. You stare at him and he stares at you, and the two of you exchange a nod before you both go your own ways. You are here to help someone just as he is — only in different ways. Leon is to serve with his body, and you are to serve with your mind. What difference does it make if you both are serving someone in the end? What difference does it make if it's the body or the mind? Can you truly say that the two of you are different at all?

You wonder if Leon is truly healing when he looks so distraught over something. Perhaps he's busy with whatever the government is tasking him with. If he's by the president's side, then surely he's someone of higher ranking now. You think it's been a long time since you've seen his face properly. Age has wrecked through his body, fine lines in the corners of his eyes and lips, facial hair so much more defined than when you had first met him. Time is ticking, yet you are stuck in place.

Your daughter moves quickly, high school starting as she gets to tell everyone that her mom is a major journalist, at the frontier of covering big issues regarding the rumors that spread around. She treats you like her hero, and for the first time in a while, you let out a sigh in relief that makes your whole body relax. It is as if the tension that you would accidentally let the frustration of raising her alone ruin her life has finally been lifted from your shoulders. You will be alright. No matter how much the two of you would fight, you will be fine because you have survived for so long and you will continue to.

At 38, you watch Leon return after a mission abroad with the rest of the press, staring at the bandages on his cheek, watching as he passes you with a glance, movements never stopping once. You are stuck in place, you think. You are moving at the same pace as Leon when you could be running ahead, and it will inevitably come back to destroy you. What use is there in matching someone's pace when they do not think of you? Are you stuck in place? Will you be stuck here forever? You thought moving to the capital could change things, yet you are back where you began.

The world is moving too fast for you to keep up.

At least someone grounds you.

One day, your flip phone becomes a smartphone, and your cents charged for the landline become a monthly phone plan that you pay at the beginning of the month with your rent and just about everything else. The world is moving on, so why are you stuck in place? Maybe it was you who needed to be caught in the stars and not Leon. Who will catch the moon when it collapses from the sky? What chasing is there if the moon will never see the sun?

What does it take to break a cycle of destruction?

Not much, apparently.

When Leon himself is banging at your door at the crack of midnight, you know better than to open the door, but you do it anyway. If you are to die, then you might as well let it be at his hands.

"I'm sorry." He's gasping for air, on his knees.

Leon Kennedy, a grown man in his forties, kneeling at your open front door.

You wonder if you should just cut it right here.

"Do I—"

"You don't need to." He heaves, breathing heavy as he dares not to look at you. "I'm sorry."

You stare down at him, and you wonder if this is the universe's way of apologizing to you.

"You can crash the couch. If you leave tomorrow morning, then I'll take all of this as a mistake you're making while drunk." You let him in, and you know he'll be gone in the morning.

Leon was not one to go against his own words.

Yet, in the morning, you find yourself staring at Leon as he serves you breakfast, terrified of talking to you or something. It makes you raise a brow, but you thank him as you start on breakfast. He wants to say something. You wonder if he hasn't changed at all since you've last seen him. Maybe somewhere deep down, he's still that rookie who had his first day in a zombie-infested city.

"I really am sorry."

"There's no way you're deciding this now." You don't bother looking at him, sitting down as he hands you a plate of food for breakfast instead. Always an action. Always an act of service in order to remind you that he loves you instead of speaking up. You wonder if you're the one being stubborn in that case. Maybe the reason your relationship went downhill was all because of you. It is always you, you find.

Yet, despite all odds, your daughter is in college now.

"I heard you have a daughter." He laughs dryly, leaning against the kitchen marble as you raise a brow at him.

"Yes. I do."

You stare at Leon as he sucks in a breath, and you refuse to tell him. Even if he asks, you will lie through your teeth to make sure that the wound in your relationship would be severed. You do not understand why he still insists on checking in on you, but as you start eating, you do not complain. If he wishes to drag your severed limbs through the mud, then let him do so. If he would have to exist in your life only to wound you over and over again, then let him do so. If you should exist only to be hurt back because you had hurt him first, then let it be so.

"Is she mine?"

You stare at Leon, and then shake your head.

"Who's the... father?"

"Hookup. I forgot to take the morning after pill." You start at the breakfast, humming quietly as Leon stares at you apprehensively. "You didn't burn the bacon this time."

"That was once." He points.

Yet, you finish the food, watching as Leon still lingers. He stays. You don't know what prompts him to stay, and quite frankly, you're too scared to ask how he managed to get your address, but you keep quiet. You do not want to know. You should not want to know. You aren't someone in his life anymore, so does it really matter if you know or not. Maybe you should let your daughter know that her biological father has decided to crash at your apartment door at two am on a Monday all in the name of apologizing. You're sure that she'd be disappointed after you had told her to never take a man back unless he groveled.

"Why are you really here?" You stare up at Leon as he slides you a mug of tea, and he sighs.

"Wanted to know if Leona was mine. She..."

"Don't delude yourself." You press the mug to your lips, and Leon exhales.

"Do you want the truth?"

"Should've started with that."

"You're on a wanted list of potential conspiracy theorists."

"What the hell?"

"Leaking government secrets... or something. That book you published."

"Ah." You mumble. "All over the book?"

"Too accurate of a retelling. The government didn't cover up the nuking, but they did cover up the zombies, so—"

"So they think I somehow am convincing the masses with the book that there were zombies."

"It's a national security concern."

"Which involves you? I thought the CIA covered that."

"I asked the president personally to be put on the case... didn't wanna fly international again. Also, it was you." He swallows slowly.

"So, if I get caught, you go down with the ship too, huh?" You laugh dryly, sliding him the half of breakfast you didn't touch. "You need to eat too."

You wonder if it mirrors all the times that Leon had been too tired after a day of drills to even respond to you when the two of you had been together, but even then, he had threaded his fingers between yours, telling you to sleep well before he headed off to bed himself. Age or PTSD? You can not imagine the trauma that goes into shaping Leon into who you see before you now. The blonde he used to dye his hair has faded out into a darker color — damaged hair making it a lighter brown rather than the one you had been used to when you first met him. Are you overstepping your boundaries? Is he overstepping your boundaries? You can not tell.

"Old habits die hard, huh?"

"It's been nearly twenty years." You mumble. "They shouldn't be habits anymore."

"Trust me. Some of them are just embedded into your soul." He glances at the door as it rattles, and you pinch the bridge of your nose.

"I'm home." Your daughter, Leona, pauses when she notices the man in the kitchen. "Who's this?"

"Leon Kennedy." You don't give her any more details beyond that, exhaustion written all over your face enough to tell her to save the question for another time. "How was the trip?"

"It was fun. I'll show you photos after I unpack. Hi, Mr. Kennedy."

Leon nods in response.

"Of course, baby. Did you eat yet?"

"I had a bagel in the morning, but I'll need lunch. Did the stuff in the fridge go bad?"

"No. I'll make lunch for us today."

"Thank you, ma."

You smile, waving as she tugs her luggage with her into her room.

"She's the spitting image of me." Leon stares down at you, brows furrowed. "How can she not be mine? Everything matches up."

"I cheated on you with a blonde man with blue eyes before you moved, or something." You half-ass it, standing up as you close your eyes and watch him eat. "What's next? I go to the town hall? I turn myself into the CIA?"

"No, I just need to monitor you regularly. That's it. You've been inactive in terms of writing for years. They just want me to keep you in check." He hums. "They moved me in next door. Let me know if you need anything."

"For how long?"

"Only a couple of months." He nods. "Can I meet Leona sometime?"

You glance at her open door, wondering if you should treat this a little more seriously.

"Make us lunch."

"Hm?"

"Lunch. We can talk about this over lunch. Dinner is too formal." You sigh. "Are you trying to be back in her life?"

"So she is mine." He mumbles. "I had a daughter all this time and you never bothered to tell me?"

"Didn't feel necessary. It would have stirred up too much press. Can you imagine me yelling at you that you have a daughter? The government would go insane. Now, answer my question. Are you trying to involve yourself in her life, or do you just want to introduce yourself to her?"

"You'll let me co-parent her?"

"Leon Scott Kennedy." You seethe. "Answer the fucking question."

"I don't know, but I think introducing myself would be a good start."

You pinch the bridge of your nose. "Shakshuka for brunch."

"Shakshuka?"

"We have the ingredients for it. You're on cooking duty. I trust that you haven't just been living off of store-bought food this whole time."

"No, I picked up cooking recently." He looks up a recipe on his phone, searching for the ingredients in your pantry as you knock on your daughter's door.

"Hm?"

"Leon will join us for brunch. Is that alright?"

"It's fine, ma." She smiles. "I have an idea on what's going to come out just... based off of his face."

"It wasn't to hurt you."

"I know." She nods. "I'll mull over it later when my insomnia hits, but I'll mull over it. I know you didn't do it to hurt me."

You glance at the souvenir she's decided to bring back and raise a brow. "Is that a mug?"

"Isn't it cute?" She grins. "Found it at a local potter's place while there."

"It is." You take it from her, tilting it to get a good look at the colors as she starts explaining the rest of her little trinkets.

"This one's for you." She hands you a mug that looks the same, and you raise a brow at the design.

"XOXO Gossip girl?" You raise a brow. "My coworkers are going to love this."

"Did you call off work today?"

"Yeah. Leon crashed last night, and I told the team that I wasn't able to make it."

"PTO?"

"PTO." You hum. "Thank you for the mug, baby. Did you see anything fun?"

"Met the president's daughter."

"On the trip?"

"Yeah. Our sorority was introducing ex-members, and she was one of them. She brought up how I reminded her of the dude who saved her that one time she got kidnapped... said we shared a name too."

"Ah, is that how?"

"Felt like a strange coincidence more than anything." She places her two bags of trinkets on her desk, and she hands you her mug. "Did you name me after him?"

"Partially. I just wanted you to be brave like your name." You listen to the way that the kitchen hood turns off. "Brunch is ready."

"How long did you date?"

"I'll tell you that after I've had my first glass." You hum. "I need one if you're going to ask me all of these questions."

Leona laughs, lips curled upwards as you take her out with you. She's taller than you, yet she is still your baby. Your sweet child whom you adored so much has grown up so much. The spitting image of her father that you had grown to be thankful for rather than get haunted by in the narrative. Your sweet daughter that you adored.

"Brunch is— oh, you both are already here. Your mother requested shakshuka."

"Oh... it's been all over my Tiktok lately." Your daughter mumbles.

"And I saw some bread, so I toasted some slices." Leon nods. "I figured I should introduce myself. I'm Leon—"

"My father." Your daughter is curt, nodding as Leon takes her hand. "Nice to finally know who you are."

"Trust me, had I known earlier, I would have come running. Your mother is insanely good at keeping secrets."

"Yes, ma has always been like that." Your daughter sits back down to start eating. "What do you work in?"

"Government."

"Like administrative or politics?"

"Security."

"Like FBI or internet?"

"I'd say it's closer to FBI, though, we don't do the same missions. I've been protecting the president lately."

"So like... bodyguard."

"Something like that."

You plate your daughter's food first and then Leon's, and yours last. You watch as your daughter makes small talk with him, surprisingly unbothered by the sudden intrusion of her biological father in her life, getting to know him over brunch. Though, you know your daughter better than anyone. She's not getting to know Leon, she's just making small talk so that Leon lets his guard down around her. You can't say you blame her. It's hard to accept a man who's been missing all of your life as soon as he comes back.

Your daughter turns to you as you hand her the plate. "Can I drink?"

"Careful, Leon can arrest you for that." You bite into your slice of toast, giving her no other answer.

"You let her drink?"

"It's safer to know what her tolerance is than to have her find out on her own. The answer is no, though. Not today, at least. Maybe when Leon isn't here."

"Tough luck, I'll be here pretty often from now on."

"What?" Your daughter raises a brow at you, and you give her a look that can only mean you'll tell her later.

"There won't be a later." Leon hums.

"If you write this in the report I'm going to burn you alive." You grumble. "Mom's under suspicion from the government because of a book I published years ago. A fiction book."

Your daughter raises a brow, and realization strikes her.

"Oh my god, it was true?"

"Leon wrote all of it in a letter to me." You hum. "And yes, it's what Leon does."

"You eradicate zombies? Like The Walking Dead?"

"Well, not as dramatic—" He pauses. "Alright. Sometimes it gets that dramatic, but it's nothing super big. They're moreso mutated biological weapons than zombies—"

"You fight bioweapons for a living. That's huge." Your daughter mumbles. "Do you know the biology behind it all? What are the—"

"Even if I did, I wouldn't be able to tell you. The government would suspect you next."

Your daughter huffs, going back to her egg instead.

"Are you in college? What are you majoring in?"

"Biology. I'm specializing in bioweapons"

"What."

You hold back the laugh that threatens to break onto your face, eating quietly as you watch Leon blink at your daughter twice.

"Biological weapons?"

"More specifically, I study gene mutation. I study how they come to be."

Leon turns to look at you, and you shrug. "Her choice. Whether she uses it for good or bad ultimately depends on her."

"They teach that?"

"GWU does." Your daughter shrugs. "Can I continue unpacking?"

"Of course, baby." You nod. "I'll keep chatting with Leon."

"Thank you for brunch." She nods, heading off.

"You're letting her study something that dangerous?"

"It's not dangerous unless she decides it is." You wipe your mouth, staring at the last egg. "What am I expected to do?"

"Not much." Leon hums. "I just need to report your day-to-day."

"Alright. I'm gonna rot on the couch all day, so you'll have nothing much to do. Is this your job for the next couple of months?"

"Don't worry, you'll have me all—"

"If you say another word, I'm going to shoot myself."

Leon laughs in response.

You find that having Leon around isn't the end of the world. You still exist in your day-to-day life, Leon hanging around your apartment while you're at work and your daughter is in class, and it makes for an interesting icebreaker when people ask how your weekend went. (It isn't "my ex moved next door to me", no, it's "a government agent paid me a visit over the weekend"). Yet, life goes on, and you find that despite your brooding over how the end of the world was coming because Leon had slipped back into your life, it's very much not the case. If anything, Leon sort of just exists in your life.

At the very least, someone cooks for both you and your daughter when you return home.

"What's the menu tonight?" You raise a brow, your daughter coming in after you as she kicks off her slippers.

"Beef stew."

"I'm surprised he knows how to season his food."

You hold back a laugh, sliding your heels off as Leon feigns a look of offense. Your daughter peels her tablet out, settling on the couch as you sit next to her, yawning.

"How was work?"

"Leon, stop acting like we're married." You grumble.

"Yeah, but you like coming home to a home-cooked meal, no?"

"Caught red-handed." You put both your hands up, watching as your daughter does some sort of witchery with her ochem homework. You don't wish it upon anyone, ever. Though, the idea of Leon trying to figure it out does amuse you just a little bit. You decide a short nap would work in your favor, telling the two to wake you up when dinner is ready, eyes closing as your daughter tells you good night.

Good night means you wake up at two am in bed, Leon knocked out on the couch, and just about a hundred question marks floating over your head. You glance at the pot of stew that sits in the fridge and a smaller bowl portioned out for you, and you jump in your skin when you hear Leon move.

"Awake?"

"Yeah." You reach for a can of beer, cracking it open as you sit back on the couch. "Why are you still here?"

"I was going to take you to bed, but I remembered you don't like your outside clothes on in your bed. I can't change you anymore since... yeah." He pauses at the beer. "Drinking on an empty stomach isn't going to feel so good in the morning."

"Wow, how kind of you."

Leon has not forgotten you. You're made aware of that at the very least, eyes still full of a sincerity and warmth that you had grown used to decades ago. It makes you sick to the stomach that you had such an effect on him despite the two of you ending on good terms. It was not good terms. It was surface-level good terms, but both of you had secretly wished the other would say something about sticking together. Both of you are cowards, now that you think about it. He probably would have stayed had you let him know that you were pregnant, but you didn't wish to hold him back. Maybe it was selfish of you.

Yet, you do not regret all that you have done for your daughter.

"I never moved on." Leon speaks slowly, light in the living room dim as you raise a brow at him. "I... I thought about you all these years, and—"

"If you're staying back to tell me all of this useless stuff, I don't see a point in you staying back."

"You're not ready for this conversation?"

"Leon," You glare at him. "This isn't a conversation we should be having at all. Our feelings mean nothing now. You're here to monitor me casually, nothing else. Imagine if the government found out that you were being so lacking on the job."

You watch as Leon's voice gets caught in his throat.

"We're too old for this."

"We aren't." He tries.

"We are." You leave it at that, shaking your bottle as you realize it's half empty. "Leon, we're in our forties and both have jobs—"

"You can't just say shit like that to hurt me!"

"Keep your voice down. Leona's a light sleeper." You grumble. "It's fine. Let's just end it at that."

Leon stays quiet, and the look behind his eyes tells you more than enough that he wants to continue the conversation, but he learns to keep quiet. It feels the same as before. It was always petty squabbles that could be fixed the morning after once you've cooled down, but you don't want to. It's a conversation you refuse to have with Leon. It's a conversation that's been rotting in the display case of your heart — something you refuse to let go of all because it would feel foreign. You're selfish, you find. You used to care for Leon's heart as your own, but the rotting has consumed your heart and mind. Maybe you will only hurt him if you stay close.

"Morning." Leon hands you your cup of tea and your daughter her flask of water, waving to her as she rushes off for her 8am.

"Morning." You press the mug to your lips.

"Ready to talk about it?"

"I told you the conversation was over." You hum, turning to stare at the clock. "I have work in an hour and a half."

"We should get breakfast by your workplace."

"Sure, mister bodyguard." You mumble. "Didn't feel like cooking?"

"You need to diffuse."

"I'm very good at separating personal life and my work life." You hum. "You're paying."

"Yeah, yeah." He grabs his jacket from the rack as you hit the button to lock the door, clicking on your phone as you start the security system.

"You driving?"

"I'd have to pick you up from work, no?"

"Leon... I take public transport to work. Leona uses the car."

"Oh." He pauses. "... I have a bike?"

You raise a brow.

When Leon said bike, you were expecting more of a... bike bike rather than a motorbike, and as Leon steps on the gas and you're chanting quiet prayers in your mind to stay alive, something feels all too foreign yet familiar. Leon wanted to get a motorbike when the two of you had first started dating years ago, so to be able to see Leon have his own and drive safely was interesting. You are watching him grow. He has changed in little parts of his life. It is comforting to know that the pace you had been matching was moving at the very least. Perhaps you can not see how far you've come if no one can show you how far you've gone.

"Ugh, my hair." You huff, fixing your hair as Leon pays for parking.

"Is this a date?"

"If you somehow remember my order." You brush at the loose strands, following behind Leon as he guides you around the uneven pavement. You wonder if you'll bump into someone you know. It's a popular brunch place even for government workers. You follow Leon in, blinking as somehow a table clears up and the two of you are seated. It makes you raise a brow, but you don't think too much, looking at your emails as he orders for the two of you. You wonder how much of you he does remember.

When one of your coworkers comes up and asks you who you're with, you glance at Leon and tell the guy that it's your neighbor. He was plenty of trouble already, and as Leon raises a brow at the man that only means trouble, you worry for the poor guy's health. Leon's going to decimate this guy, even if it's unintentional. You can only hope he doesn't go around telling everyone you're hooking up with your ex again. Though, it's not like they knew you had an ex. You could play everything off. Perhaps this was the curse of working in journalism with men whose temper breaks at the slightest aggravation.

"If you're just neighbors, then this should be fine, right? What, you won't date me because your daughter's still young? She's an adult now. You should be honored that—"

"Hey, man, I wouldn't go that way if I was you." Leon raises a brow at the man, and your coworker raises a brow.

"Shut it, neighbor."

"The father of her child begs to differ."

That's all it takes to shut up your coworker, his face red as he storms off, and you grin into your palm, eyes meeting Leon's as he hums.

"Didn't even need to pull out the badge."

"Now, that would have been a power move." You thank the waiter as the food comes and eat. "You keep it on you?"

"Required at all times. It's helpful when out, definitely." He glances at the food. "Will you have leftovers?"

"Definitely. Can you take them back for me?"

"Of course."

When you arrive at the company, you're bombarded with questions — unsurprising considering everyone here is an investigative journalist of some kind, and you wave all of them off. You don't want to talk about it. He is the father of your daughter. That's all. He's not someone you're allowed to love anymore, and you should leave it at that. It won't just take a handful of months for him to somehow get you back. It would have to take more than that. No one pries further when they notice you refuse to budge. Perhaps time would tell.

When you return, you note your daughter's text about staying over at a friend's place and step home.

"Where's Leona?"

"Out with her best friend." You hum. "House is just me for the week. Don't try anything funny, though."

"Do you still have the old photobook?"

"Of before we broke up?" You raise a brow, pulling out another can from the fridge.

"Can I get one?" He thanks you as he catches it, nodding to your question.

"Yeah. It's somewhere in the study's cardboard boxes. Why?"

"Wanted to look over them."

"Well, haven't you grown sentimental?" You crack open the bottle, holding it out to clink bottles with him, pressing the drink to your lips as you hum.

"Maybe I just miss you."

"I'm right here."

"Sometimes I worry you aren't."

You laugh in response, brows knitting and resembling a sneer, but it isn't malicious. It's the same smile that Leon knew you put on when you were annoyed that someone had read you like an open book. It wasn't fair. Leon hadn't moved either, and the two of you had been stuck matching pacing in life only to stay exactly where the two of you had started. It wasn't fair. It was never fair. Were you stuck where you began all because you had been fixated on your past? Unfair. It was unfair.

Leon stares at the can in his hand, sighing.

"What's wrong now?"

"I should have looked for you earlier." He mumbles, grimacing at the taste of the alcohol on his tongue. "I should have known."

"I didn't expect you to."

"You had been nauseous the days leading up to my departure."

"And? I kept her from you."

"It was not your fault. I left you with no way to contact me." He mumbles. "I should've... worried about her instead of someone else."

"It's not your fault. You didn't start the outbreak, and you didn't choose to join the government."

"How did you know that?" He turns to look at you, and you hum. "Despite our cutting news, we also take bribes. One of the first archival information I was given was that you had been forced into your position because of your stellar behavior in Raccoon City. They threatened you with that other girl.,, Sherry, was it?"

Leon grimaces. "I ended up seeing her so little because of my position."

"It wasn't your fault." You tap the rim of the can, blinking slowly as Leon meets eyes with you.

"You haunt my world."

"Good to know." You swallow slowly, staring at Leon as he meets eyes with you. You wonder if he's actually drunk or just taking the opportunity to be honest with you. Regardless, you appreciate the attempted honesty. Shall you bait him? Tear your soul bare all for him to look at you and touch your heart all over again? Shall you present yourself bare to the bone to Leon so he could feel that you were finally being honest with him? How unkind of you — to think that way.

"Leon, did you love me?"

"I don't think love could even begin to describe how much I adored you." He runs his hand through his hair, laughing as he takes another drink. "I couldn't sleep without you for months after I left."

"Really?" You think back to all the nights you had woken up in need to empty out your stomach, grimacing at the memory. "But you moved on, no?"

"Hm?" Leon turns to look at you completely now, eyes going half-lidded as you get the idea. "No, sweetheart. I never did."

"I guess those shitty bedroom eyes you give me when you want something hasn't either. Couch is all yours. I'm locking the door tonight."

"I love you." Leon manages, swallowing as he stumbles out of the chair, reaching for your wrist as he ends up on his knees again. "Fuck, I'd rather die than live without you again. I'm already here begging for you — what, what else do I need to do? I'll—"

"Leon." You stare down at him, brows furrowed as you seem to remember this scene all too well. "We're both adults with jobs—"

"With a daughter." He swallows. "We're parents too, you know? We're also our own people. Why do you keep stopping me from making choices to put you first?"

"You work for the government. As much as I despise it, you keep all of us safe." You mumble. "Let's talk in the morning if you remember anything about this conversation at all."

"I'm not drunk." He mumbles, and you drag him back to the ouch, helping him get comfortable as you stare down at his closed eyes.

You've hurt the two of you more than enough, you think.

You check your daughter's location, fingers clicking on your keyboard as you wonder if you should take a trip out too. It had been a while since you've actually taken paid vacations and not sick days. You wonder if you'd get your ass kicked if you just decided to take PTO off a day in advance, but considering the lack of news going around lately, it wouldn't be impossible.

A break. You need a break to collect yourself.

So, you leave Leon a note, refusing to diffuse too quickly out of a fear that you'll snap, and you call the head office right first thing in the morning to let them know that you'll be taking two weeks off for personal reasons. You assure them anything left to you will be handed in on time, just... you wouldn't be able to make it to the office. It's not PTO, the more that you think about it. You're really just working remotely.

You leave in the morning with a suitcase, ticket booked for the middle of nowhere. Anywhere but home, you decide. It is not that home is where your belongings are. Your home is where your heart is, and for a long, long time, it has been with Leon. You can not recall a moment in which he hasn't been the place your heart was, but you wonder if it was possible that at some point, your heart had just shattered and broke in your chest instead of staying with him.

You step out onto the sunny beach houses of your company's private island given as a bribe and think you're in utter bliss. Though, the story that would have sold was worth a couple million dollars, you guess. You don't care at that point. It had been a long time since you had last taken a while off for the sake of your body. You draft things to discuss when you get back. You're sure Leon will probably find you somehow, but it really isn't your problem. Until you're nice and warm from the inside out under the sun, it is not something you'll care about.

You should probably have a talk with Leona once the two of you return as well.

Your days on vacation are nice, sand in your toes and drink in your hand as you abuse company privileges, checking your phone to like your daughter's photos as she sends you updates about her day. You're glad Leon doesn't have your number (though you're sure that he could get it if he really wanted it). You trust that he lacks in nothing when it comes to stalking you down.

Which is inevitably true when Leon finds himself on the same island, texting Ashley a thanks as he steps up to your beach chair, covering you from the sun as you stare up.

"Took you long enough."

"Still haven't changed that awful habit of yours, huh? Running away when you need to have a conversation?" He takes a step back, taking a seat on the beach chair next to you.

"It took you a while this time."

"Yeah, well, it isn't exactly the small town bar we used to visit, no? I can't believe your third place has become a private island only certain government workers can get into."

"Yeah, but you're here, no?" You sit up, taking your sunglasses off. "Let's talk."

"I'm sorry."

"I still don't understand why you're apologizing if there's nothing to apologize for."

"I feel guilty that I left."

"We weren't in a place where we could decide where we wanted to go." You pause. "The child would have slowed you down. Leona's great, but if I told you that you had a daughter, you would have left everything behind just to return. I did not want to tear that away from you."

"I—"

"You couldn't have raised a child with your job." You hum. "I don't despise you for it."

"And then? Did you love me at all? You never let me decide what I wanted and didn't want to do." He grimaces. "I would've put you two first. You know that. I loved you even while I should not have. You should know better than anyone that I would have been hung up over you. You can not replace my first love in my heart and then not tell me about Leona."

"It's unfortunate I did, then."

"I... still love you." He mumbles. "It's fine if it's not mutual, but please don't cut me out of your life again. Let me make the choices this time. We're both at an age where we can."

You finally look at Leon, and you sigh. "I won't stop you, but do not expect anything back from me."

"I won't."

You wonder if you should fear getting used to being taken care of by Leon. You play cards with him by the pool, drink with him at the bar, lie with him under the warm sun, and you wonder if you've gone back in time for a moment. Is this it? Is that it? Is that all there is to this? Is all it took a sincere apology from him? You feel like you should apologize as well, but there's just something stuck in your throat whenever you try and bring it up.

"Hey, Leon, did you ever hate me?" You glance at the wine in your glass, and Leon raises a brow from the hotel room. You wonder when the two of you had become close enough to share a room again. Is this some weird form of being roommates? You're too old for this, you think. You're far too old to be having a moment like this.

"No. Well, I was hurt when you told me to leave, but I never hated you." He hums.

"Good, since I feel like I still owe you an apology and all that." You mumble. "Sorry for forcing choices upon you. I just... I always feel like you can do better."

"Oh, honey, you are better." He mumbles, raising a brow at you from his bed as you frown.

"Sure, but I'm still sorry for being a terrible person." You mutter. "I can't guarantee anything from your efforts, but I appreciate you a lot."

Leon raises a brow at your words, but he doesn't speak up.

"Anyways. Maybe I'm just some control freak who needs to know everything that's going on like some maniac." You tuck your legs under your chin, staring out at the ocean as Leon seems to remember something. You don't know what, but you feel too vulnerable to find out, opting to stay in place and blink instead. The waves crash against the sand gently, and even when the lights are turned off and you're stuck in bed, you wonder if something's wrong. There's always something wrong.

You step out of the room, stepping on the beach as you wrap the robe around you tighter. The waves are higher now, and as you dip your feet in the cold water, you wonder what it'd be like to float off into the distance. Right. right. No, you have a daughter who would ruin her life in order to fix yours. You wonder how you managed to raise her to be the way she is without a father in the house. Maybe you sold your soul in order to do that.

The waves eat at your ankles, night breeze rustling your hair, goosebumps snaking up your calves as you continue staring into the distance. You don't know. You wonder if you could just keep playing stupid and not knowing. It had worked until Leon stumbled back into your life. Well, stumbled would be the wrong word. He kind of... crashed into your life again. You still wonder if his mission was truly a mission. He was always the type to make harmless jokes when it came to you.

It probably isn't. You saw him working on his laptop before you tucked yourself in.

"You're up." Leon's voice emerges from behind you, and you take a step back to turn.

"Yes." You hum.

"Couldn't sleep?"

"No." You close your eyes as the wind blows again.

"What's wrong?"

"A lot." You mumble. "Though, not much of it is my choice. I'm wondering if I can just go back to playing stupid."

"You should see a therapist." Leon cracks a smile. "Mine's pretty good."

"No wonder you've changed so much." You sport the same smile, stepping out of the water back into the sand. "Let's go back."

"Will you be able to sleep?"

"Time will tell."

You aren't able to, but at the very least you catch three hours of rest before you emerge from bed with bedhead you hadn't seen since your youth. Leon laughs as he brings you breakfast, and you sigh, raking your hands through your hair.

"How's Leona?"

"I think she went to Amsterdam or something."

"How are you sustaining her lifestyle?"

"I know this is hard to believe, but our company actually pays a livable wage for all of us since we know too much. The government has compensation for our work too. We're basically entangled with the government at this point."

"And you don't pay for your life?"

"No bad sides. I don't know which senators and people of the cabinet decided to bomb the city. I just know it was bombed. It's why you received such a vague order."

Leon puts your breakfast down by your legs.

"Thank you." You hum. "How'd you sleep?"

The look on Leon's face implies something along the lines of getting the best rest in a while.

"That's good." You start at breakfast, staring at the lower tides before glancing at Leon. "Did we ever go on a beach date? I forgot."

"Us and what beach? We were landlocked."

"True, huh." You think to yourself, eating absentmindedly as Leon changes in the bathroom. You glance at the robe on yourself, and you wonder if you should just go naked or something. No, you'd probably get sniped or something. Shorts it is.

You place the tray on the table as you finish, wiping your mouth when Leon steps out of the bathroom.

"Wowwwww..." You grin. "Stay in shape, Agent Kennedy?"

"Government-mandated." He chuckles. "When do you go back?"

"In like, two days. You gonna catch a flight back with me?"

"How else am I going to get back?"

"Not sure." You hum. "Maybe swimming?"

"On an island in the middle of the Atlantic? Tough luck." He hums.

Leon settles back into your life after that. You wonder if this would categorize as co-parenting or being roommates, but you don't put a label to anything. It's not worth the time and effort. The PTO was good for your soul, but you return to being a corporate slave in the end anyway. Only, you wish Leon would stop stirring up more trouble when picking you up downstairs at your office each day. Would it kill him to be a little more secretive? Well, not like you told him about it. You used to like it when he did that while dating.

"You got me flowers?" You raise a brow, taking them from him as he nods.

"How was work?"

"It was fine. If you think this is all it takes to win me back, though? Not happening." You glance at the flowers. "Though, thank you for the flowers."

You're sure your coworkers are going insane over this. You don't know how long you had been single when most of your coworkers had gotten married and hitched. It really wasn't something on your mind after having Leona. So, for you to be going through the whole courtship thing again from Leon was a little strange. Well, not that you mind being pampered.

"Are you driving us home?" You raise a brow.

"I promise not to crash." He shows you the car keys, and you sigh. Well, if you die, you die.

You yawn as you get on behind him, arms wrapping around his waist as he takes you home. You wonder if Leona's home by now. She's probably unpacking again. You're not really surprised when you get home and she has her stuff sprawled out in the living room. Well, as long as it's not hurting anyone.

"What's this?" You pick up a keychain with a rabbit. "Miffy?"

"Miffy! The Dutch rabbit that Japan loves." Your daughter hums. "Isn't she cute?"

"Yes, she is." You hum. "Should I..."

"Don't check my credit card statement, please." She mumbles. "I've made some bad decisions."

"As long as you can pay it off." Your brows furrow as you contemplate. "Yeah, as long as you won't end up in debt."

She gives you a thumbs up. "You can have the one you picked up. There should be another one in blue for Leon."

"You got him something?"

"Appreciate it." He picks up the keychain, glancing at the doll. "The agents are about to have a field day when they see this keychain."

"Too out of character?"

"No, last time I had a keychain was in Spain." He hums. "I ended up giving it to Ashley."

"She still uses it." Leona speaks up. "I was out with her this time."

"When the hell did you get so close to the ex-president's daughter?"

"When I went on my sorority trip. She liked me a lot since I look so much like Leon."

"When are you going to start calling me dad?"

"Never." Leona deadpans. "You've been missing all my life. Don't push your luck."

Leon pouts, squeezing the keychain gently to calm himself.

"Yeah, she flew me over. She's great. Saw her texting Leon on the trip, though. You wanna explain that?"

"I was looking for your mom." Leon hums.

"Oh, the flowers." You remember, kicking your shoes off as you rest them on the counter.

"Yeah, I told her you're my biological dad and she told me about some agent you were flirting with in Spain."

"Not a government agent." He clears up. "She's someone I met in Raccoon City."

"Kissed?"

He grimaces as your daughter takes it as a yes. "If you cheat on mom, I'm going to ruin your life."

"How?"

"You'd be surprised how many senator's children go to my uni. Stay keen, and don't be an ass."

Leon settles into a schedule of picking you up after work, a different trinket in hand each time he picks you up, and you always take it, placing it in a box in the living room, the three of you eating together for dinner. You wonder if Leona has ever considered having a dad. Maybe she gave up a long time ago when you explained to her that her dad was someone in your past. Well, that statement sure came to bite you in the ass. He's not so much of someone in the past now, is he? You wonder if Leona would have something to say if you were to start with Leon again.

Yet, you don't tell her what happened on the island for the time being, her busy with her studies before the start of summer. So, instead of calling her and keeping her up, you let her tend to her own watching as she grumbled over all-nighters and classwork that wasn't ending. Despite her running around for her break, she wasn't gonna be able to run from her finals.

"Can you lobby so my professors get fired and I have no exam?"

"Tough luck, baby." You laugh. "I'm not in that line of business."

"I am, though." Leon hums. "Who do you need gone?"

"Leon." You warn. "No."

"His name's—"

You sigh as the two of them get into hypotheticals about taking out her professor with a sniper rifle, and you wonder where Leona had learned all of that. Though, from the stuff you had seen on the shared desktop before she got her own laptop, you think you know. It's whatever... it was probably from Twitter or one of her fanfictions. You wonder if the unrestricted internet access as a teenager was worth it — well, not your problem. She's gotten off boyfriend-free and kid-free so it's fine. There are worse things that could happen.

You wonder how much more help Leon could have been when she was going through that fic writing phase of her in middle school. You're sure all that knowledge of weapons could have helped her a lot. Well, not that you mind it anymore. It's nice to see the two of them get along. She is her father's daughter, after all. It makes you wonder if this could have happened under different circumstances. Well, what point is there in moping over a universe that isn't yours?

"What's for dinner?"

"I made a reservation for a place." Leon hums. "It's pretty basic so you wouldn't need to dress up."

"Well, if anything, you'd be the one who needs to dress up." You raise a brow at Leon as he glances at the two of you, nodding slowly.

"It's just a family restaurant that gets busy around this time." He stares at his t-shirt and jeans.

"You know, Leon." Leona raises a brow. "I'm sure you don't just wear this while on duty. What do you wear normally?"

"It depends on the occasion. Most of the time it's a suit."

"Government agents in suits is crazy." You mumble. "And when you're out on a mission?"

"It's typically some sort of body armor and a compression shirt with cargo pants and combat boots."

"What brand does the government use?"

"There's a variety of suppliers, but the material stays the same. We aren't just sponsored by one."

"Democracy, or something." You hum. "What time is dinner?"

You wonder if Leona has ever entertained the idea of having a dad in her life. She had been adamant about letting you know as a teenager that she didn't care if she had no dad as long as you wouldn't disappear or just die, but you had a feeling that she had just lied at the time to make you feel better. Well, she had grown up without a dad, so it wasn't super surprising that she had ever wondered what it would feel like to have one. You wonder if you should have just dated, but there was no way you'd be able to with such a young child. Maybe you shouldn't have—

"Whatcha thinkin' bout?"

You space back in, striking the hammer one last time as the tent is set up properly. The insulation is set up thanks to Leona, and you start the grill outside in the camping zone. The stars are starting to show, and the moon sits high in the sky as you grill the meat. Leona refreshes for her grades, chewing on her bottom lip as you serve her dinner. She only lets out a sigh in relief when her grades all come back as normal.

"You alright?"

"My GPA will live." She huffs. "Thanks for dinner."

"Of course."

"It's been a while since we've done this." Leona stares up at the stars in the forest as you crack open a can of beer for the two of you. "Is this about Leon?"

"You don't need to call him that." You hum. "I thought I'd get your opinion. I'm your mom just as much as I am my own person."

"I'm fine with it." Leona hums. "You've... I don't know. You've grown softer since he's joined us. Ugh, I'm not good at this like you are."

You laugh, adjusting the blanket on her as you turn to face her.

"You won't be mad?"

"No. It'd be... nice to experience having a dad. officially. I can't lie and say I've never once wondered what it's like to have a dad." Leona huffs. "Though, please let me punch him at least once when he officially asks you out."

"In the face?"

"I might break my fist, but hey, at least I broke his nose."

You wonder what universe you saved in a past life to deserve a daughter like this. Though, not that you complain of it. Leona lets out a sigh in relief when her grades come out unscathed, and you press the can to your lips as she catches you up on what was going on. Sorority drama sounds like a lot to you, but Leona handles it all just fine. She likes it there, and while the people around her have their flaws, you're glad she can see past most of them. At least she knows how to stay sane.

You can tell Leon's trying. He spends less time on his laptop at night, typing less and less details on your day-to-day life before it completely is voided, and when you try and ask, he tells you the mission is over. You wonder if that means he'll go back to his work clothes. Yet, for some reason he stays in the apartment next door, taking you to work each morning as he insists it's "on the way" (it's not). He always takes you back with flowers, your coworkers getting unbearable to a certain degree as they pry into your day-to-day life. You tell them that he's just trying to court you.

"Water," Leon hands Leona her bottle as she waves goodbye, handing you your bag as you follow after her while doing your hair. You stare at the mirror by the door, smoothing it out as you blink at Leon's crooked tie.

"Tie." You don't think, fingers sliding under Leon's tie as you unravel it, tying it properly as he holds his breath, daring not to move as your fingers smooth over the clothes, patting his chest as you turn back around you make sure your hair is fine. Leon tries to calm his racing heart as the two of you step into his car, his heart beating so hard he's sure he could throw up on command. Intimate. Too intimate. You can feel it too. The last time you had done that was when the two of you were young. Much younger. The racing heart makes Leon think that the two of you really haven't changed all that much.

"Have fun at work."

"Thank you." You step out of the car, waving as Leon watches you enter the building before driving off.

You calm your racing heart, ears ringing all the way to your floor as you exhale. Habit. You hadn't done it for Leon in such a long time, but the familiarity of reaching for his crooked tie and fixing it was like second nature to you. Maybe you haven't changed. Maybe neither of you changed, and at the rate that things were going, you think it's fine that neither of you has outpaced the other. The two of you are parallel lines, holding hands all the way as the two of you move through life. It's fine. You're fine. You'll be fine.

Leon picks you up after work like he always does. You stare out the window the whole time, silence pooling in the car as you think. You think too much while you think less and less these days. What are you doing here? Why are you here? Is the only thing stopping you from dating him your own flaws? Why are you letting them get in the way when you could be peeling back your skin and laying bare to him? He won't hurt you, you know that much.

You know what comes next. You have the feeling, you always do. You know that at one point Leon's going to try and confess to you, and you wonder if he could possibly outdo himself from last time. You wonder if he'll show up with flowers and a teddy bear to your apartment like he did the first time. You wonder if you could skip the formality and just confess to him first. It would be funny and catch him off guard, you think. When you spot your favorite for dinner, you think you will.

"Leona's gonna have dinner with friends." You sit down, thanking him as he hands you a plate.

"I know. She texted."

"Mhm." You wait for him to sit down before eating, lips curled upwards as you grin. "Leon, will you go out with me again?"

He's caught off guard, fumbling with his fork as he blinks at you. "Pardon?"

"Will you go out with me again? I have a lot of flaws, but—"

"Yes! Yes. Oh, my god. Yes." Leon blurts. "I was supposed to confess first, my god. I feel like this is our first date all over again— I'm still in love with you despite everything, and I'm begging you for the chance to date you again on a clean slate. This time, we both make our own decisions without regrets, and we talk it out when we have disputes. This time, I won't leave no matter what, and if I need to leave, I bring you with me. Please go out with me— I will kneel and beg."

"There has got to be a better way to say that." You laugh, watching as Leon slides out of his seat to grab something behind the counter for you. "And if I say no?"

"I imitate the meme that Ashley's been sending me with the text messages and fall on my knees and beg."

"Sounds really tempting..." You tap your chin. Leon grabs your hands, frowning at you gently as you reach up instinctually to smooth out the crease between his brows. "I was kidding. Please treat me well."

"I'll make sure you never need to think again." He mumbles, pressing your fingers to his lips as you hum. "Please accept the flowers."

"Will you get me flowers once a week?"

"I'll make sure you never have to lift a finger to do housework. I'll retire for you."

"Are you really sure you'll be allowed to do that?"

"As long as the president orders it." He mumbles. "I'll just say I can't work anymore and fake a doctor's order."

You laugh, raising a brow. "You'll do that for me?"

"And much more." He mumbles, lowering his head into your lap. "As long as you give me the chance."

"Then be sure to hold on."

"Forever and ever, always."

The door to the apartment clicks open, and Leona stares at the second bouquet on the living room table.

"Ma?"

You nod.

"Leon, how sturdy are you?" Leona raises a brow, tossing her backpack to the side and ditching her jacket.

"I'm mostly muscle. Why?"

"Leona's gonna swing at you, give her a second." You take a step back with the flowers, Leona winding up her arm as Leon blinks. "No, you're not allowed to dodge. Think of it as playful fighting. It's to welcome you into the family."

"Please be gentle. I've seen your arm muscles, and there's a high chance it'll bruise or kill me." Leon clenches his jaw, wincing as Leona lands a hit on his cheek, sound making the two of you blink. Leon rubs his jaw, laughing as he winces.

"Sorry, dad. Had to do it." She grins, shaking her hand as the words punch Leon a second time.

"Say that again."

"Hm? Sorry?"

"No, you called me dad."

You hide behind the flowers as you laugh, watching as Leon grabs Leona by the shoulders and beams.

"Say it again."

"Alright, old man. You're pushing your luck now." She rolls her eyes, kicking her shoes off and falling back onto the couch to escape his grasp. "We've got plenty of time. Also, you're paying for my tuition now."

"Oh my god, I'm a dad."

You squat to the ground as you laugh, back shaking as Leon stands there, dazed.

Leona takes the chance to slip away, and as the living room fills with your laughter, you think it'll be fine.

[leidensygdom]

Generative AI is such a dystopian concept in ways I can't even really fully comprehend. It would make for a fantastic premise for a sci fi novel I think, and yet, it is sadly not just fiction.

Like, let me explain. It was initially a sort of novelty toy. Many people had seen these sites that could create abstract pictures out of few words, but it never amounted to much. It didn't take long before these tools were quickly repurposed to serve the new cryptocurrency fad, the latest pyramid scheme to enrich a few while catering to these more technologically-inclined people who were delighted at the idea of getting involved with investing. Investing in a new way, away from a government's scrutiny. And before we all knew, the Internet was filled with them pretending that what was a major scale scam, was actually the future. The initial generative AI served them as a replacement to artists, which mostly saw through the truth of NFTs as a scam and did not wish to get involved with that.

Now, we could also talk about cryptocurrencies being dystopian on their own. A fabricated idea of virtual money obtained through what I had seen described "the pollution machine that produces metaphorical money". You turn on an infinite amount of computers to do a senseless talk that does not benefit society in any way, but in turn, it does contaminate more than small countries. But generative AI isn't just that.

NFTs did not last long and many tech bros, who had invested in them largely, found their pockets much emptier. But generative AI was still there, and people saw a new use to it. And then, with technological investors desperate to find the new thing to shove money in, after years of nothing being particularly profitable for them, generative AI started to really evolve. It went from an useless novelty toy to what we have today. And the way it got there is simply horrifying.

It is a machine that, essentially, feeds on an amalgamation of millions of creative and artistic work, chopped down and inserted into a dataset with no consent from its creators, which is then regurgitated into a soulless porridge. It is a machine powered by art, used to ultimately, remove actual art from the equation. The generated sludge can only barely manage to repeat the same bias and tropes already present in what was it fed, and they only become more and more reinforced with each update to the dataset. Suddenly, a sea of smooth, childish anime girls became the main ideation of what a woman is, amidst other things. It is a machine built on prejudices, incapable of critical thinking, repeating the same mistakes humanity already made, over and over.

And the process of blending people's entire life of work also happens to be polluting. So much more than cryptos ever managed to be. Soon enough, major companies also got involved and collectively decided to trash any sort of sustainability goal in order to invest in the new fad. When asked, some of them even mentioned that they were fully aware it was unsustainable, but that they believed that generative AI could simply give them a solution to the ever-growing energy needs. Surely it will be generative AI that will find the long-awaited answer to nuclear fusion. It has to. The power grid cannot handle it as it is.

And now, these same tech bros, maybe vindicated by how artists refused to collaborate in their latest crypto scam, or maybe just eager to have a few extra bucks, decided to put their new technology into use. Replace the same artists whose work they had stolen with generative AI. Take the artist out of the equation, remove the humanity out of creativity. It is late capitalism and massified consumerism at its worse. People do love their media, everyone enjoys a show or a videogame every now and then. But what if we could now remove any sort of actual human touch in there? What if we managed to, instead, make a machine churn out content over and over, to keep the audiences fed, to keep money rolling in, at the simple cost of removing humankind from artistic creation?

We have now these same artists that provided us with our childhood favorites unemployed, striking, making noise, as a last attempt to recover the jobs they are quickly losing. We have artists that devoted their entire careers into honing their craft seeing how people replicated it by stealing every single piece of art they had created. We have mocking echoes replicating the art of people already gone, their life's work taken and reproduced long after their death.

Science fiction has covered a lot, and there are plenty of stories about robots being made in order to replace human labor. Many of these stories humanize the robots, who develop dredges of sentience and revolve against their forced labor. But generative AI is a different story. It is a completely insentient program, owned and developed by large corporations, that is here to steal and replace what is one of the most important human virtues. Creativity is one of the major aspects of humanity. We have dug out pieces from millenia ago, small decorated pottery and painted caves, that evidence that we already had that in common with our oldest ancestors. We have been drawing and telling each other stories ever since we could paint with our fingers and communicate with each other.

And now we have developed a machine that takes that from us. It isn't here to help us carry groceries, take out the trash or do any of these mundane tasks. It is here to take away our hobbies and creative jobs, take away our amusement, and replace whatever art we once consumed with whatever slop it managed to vomit. And it is such a deeply disturbing concept that directly competes with some of the most horrifying dystopian ideations ever written.

[heliads]

because I'm in the mood for Pain could i request a nikolai fanfic with a grisha reader. they were childhood friends, but then one day reader was captured by fjerda and after they find the cure for parem they come back to ravka and don't think they're good enough for nikolai because they were too weak to resist the drug. i hope you're having a lovely day!

'only in my dreams ' - nikolai lantsov

masterlist

There’s an old saying, one that’s been tossed around by generations of practitioners of the Small Science and otkazat’sya alike, one that you’ve heard since you were small and keep hearing as you get older. There’s no good place to be a Grisha. It’s been used as a weapon and an assurance at times, a claim that you don’t belong and a reminder that life doesn’t really get better, so you might as well enjoy who you are wherever you are.

Right now, though, it just feels all too real. When you were a child growing up in the middle of nowhere in the Ravkan countryside, no one trusted a Grisha. When you were brought to Os Alta to train in the Little Palace, the glimmering city didn’t feel like a home either, just a place where you would be brought up to fight in someone else’s wars. You could go anywhere you want, but it would never quite be enough. You find your home in people you trust, but no place will ever want a witch.

And, rotting in a Fjerdan cell, you think it’s especially true now. You pity the Grisha who were born in Fjerda, and wonder how they would have managed to grow up in a country whose own army was dedicated to the cause of hunting them down. It wasn’t all that great to grow up empowered in Ravka, either, but at least there was somewhere for you to go once you were discovered, and that was the Little Palace. In Fjerda, the only place that newly discovered Grisha go is the grave.

That, or the cells, and right now you’re wishing that you were six feet under instead of here right now. Other than wanting them dead, the Fjerdan government seems fascinated by just how Grisha work. They’ve managed to get their hands on jurda parem, and you’re a part of their latest batch of test subjects.

You last received the drug a few days ago, and already the debilitating ache of withdrawal is starting to press against your bones, tearing against your sinews and skin until all you can think of is when you last had it and where you could get some more. The Fjerdan scientists are single-minded in their approach to treating Grisha with parem; exact doses are carefully measured out and only delivered in the precise windows of time that they desire. Once medicated, the captive Grisha will have their hands unchained for slim opportunities to practice their gift, most likely to build or destroy or torture other captives as directed by the Fjerdan guards.

Eventually, the parem will wear off, and then you’ll be back to where you are right now:  curled into a corner of your freezing cell, desperate for warmth or parem or anything more than this heavy, never-ending horror.

You used to be more than this, you know. You used to be a proper Grisha, one who could never imagine themselves as you are now, exhausted and starving and addicted to a drug no one even knew existed until just a short time ago. You had been brought to Os Alta when you were quite young, so for the most part, the Little Palace was the only life you had ever really known.

And what a life it had been; your mind drained by the constant tests of parem, you slip into a dreamy half-sleep, letting the memories cloud your consciousness so you don’t have to think about whatever horrors await you.

Os Alta had been beautiful. Ravka has been a struggling country for quite some time, and will likely go on eking out its days one by one for quite some time, but the royal family spared no expense on its capital city. Even the Little Palace, the smaller and humbler variant of the Grand Palace, was intricate and masterful, a testament to the artistic prowess of the Ravkan people when its creators went long enough without hunger pangs to focus on their craft.

You can almost imagine you’re there if you close your eyes. The sensations come back to you as if in a dream:  the rustle of your kefta as you walk, the smooth edges of the cobblestones where they’d been worn down by hundreds of feet, the sharp voices of your tutors, the thrill in your veins as you used your powers. You can still remember when it had been a joyous thing to use your powers uncorrupted by parem. Now, every tug to the making at the heart of the world feels like a betrayal of your own people, a sick and terrible thing that should not be practiced by any living thing.

You turn your mind away from that harsh reality, opting instead to remember the good days, the golden memories when the worst thing you could imagine was doing badly in one of Botkin’s training sessions. Since you’d been at the Little Palace since you were small, you had plenty of friends across the branches of the Small Science, plus one extra boy whose eyes used to shine like sunlight off of the True Sea. He wasn’t a Grisha though. He was–

He was a prince.

Nikolai Lantsov wasn’t supposed to visit the Little Palace. Truth be told, he wasn’t supposed to leave the Grand Palace at all except when instructed by the king and queen or one of his tutors. However, the young prince didn’t seem to care for rules, and rare was the day when he wasn’t sneaking off to pass days by his own volition. More often than not, his errant path brought Nikolai to you.

The two of you had been friends for years. Never mind the fact that a friendship between a Grisha and a prince would be strictly forbidden, no one ever caught on and the two of you were quite obliged to keep it that way. Nikolai was brilliant in mind and spirit. When you think about the happiest you’d ever been, the days you wished could stretch on forever, it’s the time you spent with Nikolai that was the best of all. Sometimes, you snuck him an extra kefta and the two of you would explore the Little Palace, or you’d run around the countryside surrounding Os Alta. You’d swap stories and little trinkets or gifts, and you’d smile like everything was alright, because when you were with Nikolai, it was.

Then he got older, and you did too. Nikolai stopped being able to visit you as often. You grew through the ranks of the Grisha, and were sent on missions with increasing frequency. Sometimes, you’d be away from Os Alta for months at a time, and only come back to find out that Nikolai had just left on a similar errand. Your paths started diverging, and even though every time you saw him, it was like the days hadn’t passed at all, both of you had growing up to do, and unfortunately, that didn’t involve each other.

You still held out hope that maybe he would become king and find a way to loop you back into his busy days. Just recently, he had returned from his years at school (and, as the rumor has it, at sea), and you had hoped that maybe you’d be able to spend more time together. All you had was one more mission, then you’d be back in Ravka for many months. Surely you could use that time.

The Fates didn’t seem keen on that happy of an ending for you, however. Your mission went awry. Fjerdans intercepted your group. You distracted the enemy soldiers long enough for the rest of your party to get away, but you were captured and brought back to Fjerda. You had assumed you’d be killed, but instead, you were sent to their experimental division and given your first dose of parem.

So the angels fall. Now, the idea that you could be remotely close to a prince’s best friend is laughable. If you could see him now, you have no doubt that he would still be the same golden, glorious boy he had always been, now imbued with the confidence of years wearing the crown. By contrast, you are huddled in a cell, your powers harshly amplified by the corrupting influence of jurda parem.

No, Nikolai Lantsov certainly wouldn’t want you now. The only way you can have him still is in your dreams, those beautiful fragments of imagination in which both of you are still young and blameless. He hasn’t fled Os Alta for a false name and a life at sea. You haven’t been captured and forced to undergo cruel tests. Both of you are happy and whole, and nothing bad has ever happened to either of you. What a dream indeed. 

A dream, but dreams are all you have. The dream of being back with Nikolai is a good one. So, too, is the dream that someone will come to take you out of this place. You’ve had this one many times before, and it slips over you like sleep. It would happen quickly, the break-out. The Fjerdan guards would shout in surprise, then be quickly silenced. You’d hear the rattle of fast footsteps, and the door to your cell would fly open. All doors would be open, and all Grisha would live. You’d run far away, to a place that would finally want you again. All would be well.

You’re comfortable with it, not bothering to open your eyes lest you lose track of the dream. Only– maybe the parem is still lingering in your system, because you swear the faux sounds of fighters are louder than they usually are in the dreams. It’s not real, but the shouts do seem real, don’t they?

It’s not real. After all, parem has a way of messing with your mind. Many times during your captivity, you’ve thought you’d seen someone from home only to realize differently during the cloudiness of withdrawal. This is the same as that.

However, when the door to your cell clangs open, you feel the reverberations through your skin and bones, something that never happens when the Fjerdans come to get you. Your eyelids fly open and you scramble back against the wall, watching with terrified eyes as soldiers hurry to you. One’s in Ravkan fatigues, but the other is a Healer in a red kefta.

“You’re not real,” you grit out, teeth pressed together.

She shakes her head sympathetically. “I am, my friend. We’ve broken you out at last. Here, I have the cure.”

She holds out a syringe pre-loaded with some sort of substance. You snap back when you see it, too familiar with Fjerdan tricks of trying to inject you with different medicines. “Don’t you dare get that near me. I know what you do.”

The Healer jerks her chin towards you. “Hold her,” she says to the soldier.

You scream, a high, drawn-out sound, and do your best to fight, but your captivity has left you frail, and he’s able to subdue you after minor effort. The Healer pushes the needle into your veins, and you wait for something terrible to happen, another grievous experiment to begin in your body, but the strangest thing happens:  you feel better.

You stare up at the Healer. Your mind feels clearer than it has in days, and, impossibly, you can feel your strength returning. “What is that?”

“A cure to jurda parem,” the Healer tells you. “Sincerest apologies that it’s taken this long to get to you.”

You’re guided out into the corridor, where you join the former occupants of the surrounding cells. All of you regard your rescuers and each other with the same incredulity and faint excitement. Is this really it? Are you finally out?

The ride back to Ravka should be long, but it feels as if it’s over in the blink of an eye. Several times, the rescue party stops at safe houses along the way, giving all of you opportunities to wash up, get new, warm clothes, and eat and drink to fix the gnaw of hunger that clings to all of you. By the time the gates of Os Alta swing wide to admit you, you’re almost feeling normal again.

Almost.

The torment of your time in the Fjerdan cells will stick with you forever, and the awful memories of what it had been like to be under the influence of jurda parem. However, the Healer’s cure worked well. When you try to use your abilities, they work the same as they had before the awful drug was first administered to you. By all accounts, you’re back to normal, even if your mind doesn’t entirely feel that way.

The driver calls to your group that you’ll be arriving outside the Little Palace shortly. “King Nikolai will be there to greet you,” he announces over his shoulder.

Excited whispers surround this, and you can’t help but listen in intently. “Nikolai Lantsov will be there?” One girl giggles by your side.

Another smiles in encouragement. “They say he’s been observing each coach that brings back rescued Grisha from Fjerda. It’s like he’s looking for someone. Maybe an old friend?”

You feel your stomach chill, the warm delight of rescue starting to cool off again. You have no doubt that you’re the one Nikolai is looking for; he had told you many times that you were his favorite Grisha by far, even when he was briefly engaged to the Sun Summoner for purely political reasons, but you find yourself hoping he doesn’t find you when you get out of your coach.

It’s not that you don’t want to see him, you do– the idea of being with Nikolai again had sustained you through your time in the Fjerdan cells better even than food or drink, but the fact remains that you are no longer as you were in your memories. You are no longer someone that a king would care to see. More so than just your weakened frame, your disorganized mind– you were captured on a mission, and you succumbed to jurda parem. In the back of your mind, a cruel voice whispers, pathetic. Nikolai will be spending his time with the finest diplomats, the noblest princes and princesses. He will not want a Grisha who could not hold out against a drug.

You gather your borrowed cloak about you, pulling the hood down over your face. It’s a size or two too large for you, by virtue of it belonging to someone else, and right now you’re glad for the extra fabric to disguise you. Nikolai is looking for a ghost, and probably out of necessity. He’ll likely be relieved that he won’t have to handle you like a difficult situation.

The coach pulls to a stop. Many rescued Grisha are crammed inside, so you blend into the crowd as you all pour out. Other Grisha from the Fjerdan prison are there already. It’s easy to slip amongst their ranks, keeping your head down. Nikolai is there in front of you as promised. His head is tilted up slightly, his gaze sweeping row after row of visitors. Maybe he isn’t even looking for you at all.

Then, his eyes catch yours briefly. Immediately, you look away, and start backing through the crowds again, trying to lose his gaze. When you feel it’s safe to look again, you breathe out quiet relief when you notice that he’s still scanning the crowd where you had been. Lost him. It’s a victory, but it’s an awful pain nonetheless.

Once everyone has arrived, Nikolai says a few kind words about how he’s glad everyone has returned home and how apologetic he is about the time it took to get you all back. No one seems to hold it against him, though, and how could you? He rescued you in the end, and managed to get you the cure to jurda parem to boot. It’s a fine success if you’ve ever seen one.

Nikolai releases you to the Little Palace to rest. Grisha stream past Nikolai, but he doesn’t stop to talk to any of them, looking again for someone. For you, maybe. You pull the hood down low again. If you move quickly, maybe he’ll miss you. You give him a wide berth, keeping your eyes low. You’ve almost made it to the edge of the courtyard when you feel a hand rest on your arm, carefully pulling you to a stop.

You don’t look up, not at first. You don’t have to look to know who it is. You’ve known Nikolai for years. You would know how he walks, the precise pattern of his boots against the cobblestones. You would know how the breath hitches in his throat when you’re reunited after too long a separation. You would know how his hand feels on you. You’ve dreamed of it a thousand times, but this isn’t a dream anymore, this is real.

“Excuse me, moi tsar,” you whisper. Maybe he doesn’t know it’s you yet. Maybe you can still escape with your dignity intact.

Any hope you had of avoiding recognition vanishes in an instant when Nikolai murmurs, “Y/N,” in such a desperate voice that you feel you could hardly move if you tried.

You stand still. A strong wind could blow you over, maybe. You watch the ground as Nikolai’s boots cross the ground to stand in front of you. His other hand rises to brush your hood back from your face. A gasp is ripped from his lungs as he takes in the sight of you.

“I look that bad, then, do I?” You can’t help but laugh quietly. It’s a bitter sound. You used to sound happier when you laughed with him, you think. A lot has changed.

Nikolai’s hand leaves your hood, drifting to your face. He raises your chin with a soft finger until you’re looking him in the eyes again. “Not to me,” he says, voice hardly louder than a whisper. “I’ve always thought you were beautiful.”

A quiet scoff escapes you. “I have been a prisoner of Fjerda for months, moi tsar. I doubt that was conducive to beauty.”

“You’d be surprised,” he tells you. Then, a bit more insistent, “You don’t need to refer to me with a title, Y/N. You didn’t when we were little.”

“I didn’t know better,” you say. It’s not quite true, and he knows it.

“Don’t say that,” Nikolai pleads. “We were friends, excellent friends. Now we’re older and you’re avoiding me. Why?”

You look away again. “Don’t ask me that,” you say with a laugh. You meant it to be a joke, but it comes out as a plea.

“I will,” he insists. “I have always been stubborn, you know that about me. Stubborn enough to search every single Fjerdan prison my spies could find when you went missing. Stubborn enough to stand here and wait in the cold until I could find you. And certainly stubborn enough to wait here with you until you tell me why I’m no longer good enough for you.”

This, at last, is enough to make your eyes fly to him. “That’s not true,” you insist hotly. “Quite the opposite, in fact. You’re a king and I’m a Grisha. And a Grisha that couldn’t even withstand jurda parem, to be specific. Saints, you win wars and I lost the first one that ever came to me. If there is anyone that has ever been insufficient, it would be me.”

The hand on your arm slips down to your fingers, and Nikolai squeezes once, twice. A heartbeat. A prayer. “You have never been insufficient to me,” he tells you. You make some sound of disagreement and he repeats it, insistent as ever. “No, you listen. You aren’t. Jurda parem is notorious for the pain it causes. You think you lost the war? The fact that you’re still alive in front of me tells me that you won it. Every day since you went missing, I woke up and went to bed terrified that you were dead and I would never know. I need you, sweetheart, and I need you to stop punishing yourself for something that wasn’t your fault.”

You stay quiet for a while, letting the words turn over in your mind, then, impulsively, you ask, “Sweetheart?”

He grins, easy as always. “It fits you. Don’t argue with me, I’ve had plenty of arguments prepared to convince you otherwise.”

You laugh, and this time, it’s real. “I wouldn’t dare, then. I just would have thought that you’d have plenty of princesses who would have won that nickname for real by now.”

Unable to stop yourself, you cast a glance towards his left hand. No ring. When you look back up at Nikolai, he’s beaming. “No queen for me, I’m afraid. I was waiting for mine to return from captivity.”

You roll your eyes. “Still haven’t given up on that, have you? I seem to remember you trying and failing to convince me to marry you since we were six.”

Nikolai grins, slipping your arm inside his so he can guide you back to the Little Palace. “I will never give up. Not until you say yes.”

You laugh again, shaking your head in mock disbelief. It’s been a while since you saw him. It’s been a while since he asked. If he were to do it again, you think you might have a different answer than when you were both so small. 

Nikolai turns to look at you, his eyes shining. He’s always had a gift for knowing what’s on your mind, and judging by the light in his smile, you think he’s predicted your thoughts yet again. He’s got some time before he attempts another proposal. This time, though, he’ll have a better outcome than before.

grishaverse tag list: @rogueanschel, @deadreaderssociety, @cameronsails, @mxltifxnd0m, @story-scribbler, @retvenkos, @mayfieldss, @eclliipsed, @gods-fools-heroes, @bl606dy, @auggie2000, @baju69, @crazyhearttragedy, @aoi-targaryen, @budugu

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[isa-ghost]

Yea, undying duo if phil and foolish! Because phil is mr hardcore survival minecraft and foolish is a totem of undying :D

basically, both cubitos have a wack relationship with death (and, I think, aversion to using totems? I know phil for sure but I'm a bit unsure about foolish)

I've done some qFoolish ones before!

qPhil headcanons masterlist

Phil would take another "vacation" with Foolish any time. Especially since the second time around, he actually got to know him really well. He'd like to see him again the next time they're in the same realm. :')

If he wasn't so Fuck The Feds he would consider doing some kind of huge cool build like the kids wanted them to so badly. Maybe in the next realm they'll do it because they won't have some kind of government hovering around. It's just too bad the kids won't see it.

He wishes he could've actually had time to actually enjoy having the titan by the wall but the Feds relocated them all like right after. After the way Foolish and his builds were disrespected last time they shared a realm, Phil is PISSED the Feds had the audacity to basically do the same. Especially when Foolish (kind of) worked for them!!!

Of everyone he got close to on the island, Foolish is one of the ones he wishes he had more time with. He feels like they were weirdly in different worlds despite them both being present so often. That's,, probably kind of Ender King's fault, honestly. He feels like he fell away from multiple people when things got bad.

Tbh he kinda wanted to ask Foolish about wtf he was up to in the last realm they were both in (aside from building) but decided against it bc a majority of his memories from that one are awful. So either Foolish was suffering too, or Phil wouldn't trust himself not to envy him for not having a horrid time.

Insert "MCC is some kinda canon interdimensional death games" hc here. Phil has SEEN Foolish kick ASS in a way that wasn't hysteria-driven Bolas rabies.

I'd like to think there's been at least one event or something where they just sat together and gave each other building tips.

The historian part of Phil's brain wants to talk to Foolish about what his Literally Undying ass has seen and lived through. How long has he been alive?? As long as Phil? Longer? He needs to know.

He's not sure where the eternal banana came from and at this point he's too afraid to ask.

Phil thrives on being a bystander of Foolish and Bad's find each other in every universe curse. He's not sure if the last realm before QI started it or if they've crossed paths even More before QI, but boy does he love getting to watch their beef.

See, Foolhalo might find each other in every universe (derogatory), but Phil knows the REAL one is Foolish and Tina finding each other in every universe (affectionate).

Something something Foolish totem something something Phil refusing to use totems when he's home in Hardcore. Is this anything. Someone cook for me I'm too stupid.

Phil is never gonna understand when or how Foolish became "King of the Capys" or why they chose him specifically. He assumes Foolish just hung out with them the most or something.

He barely got to know Vegetta but he just KNOWS he was Foolish's type. Which is wild bc prior to getting government assigned spouses, Phil didn't even think Foolish was fruity. Somehow. Looking back, it actually kinda makes sense to him. From what little he knew of Foolish before QI.

Inversely, Foolish was absolutely STUNNED to know Phil is some flavor of poly let alone fruity at all. Which is hilarious bc Phil is too tunnel-visioned on other things to try hiding that fact. But no, shark man beyond baffled that Phil lowkey adjusted to having a government assigned husband almost instantly. AND became possessive of said husband over time.

[thatnonameuser]

I really like your work! I do have some critiques though if you don't mind

First, I wish you would use the "read more" button so we don't have to scroll so long just to see your other posts.

Second, Crowley registering mc as a darling/giving them different textbooks doesn't make any sense imo. All of these things just make it more obvious that he enrolled someone he's not supposed to, which just makes the chance of his pay getting cut even higher. Plus if he only registered her as one so she doesn't get murdered, that also doesn't make sense. No one would know not to kill her unless they know she's a darling, but the whole point is to hide that.

Like I said though I do really enjoy the idea of your story, and I think it's quite well written, too. I'm definitely a fan I just know that if it were me, I'd want people to give me their real opinions, instead of just sugarcoating what they think I want to hear.

Sorry if this came off as rude. Have a good day!

I always like to get real opinions to my writing, and really don't want to be sugarcoated with what I write. So I appreciate your constructive criticism so thank you for that.

First, the 'read more' button. I actually didn't know how to add that. So thank you for pushing me to learn. All of my really long works will have this now and I went back and edited this for all of the chapter one parts so far.

Second, Crowley is shit at his job in any universe. Crowley had to register you to prevent himself from being punished if you were murdered. (Which kind of seems redundant when you think about the fact that not everyone knows she's a darling, but I hadn't thought that far ahead then😅) So to slap a bandage over that plothole, let's just say that exceptions can be made within certain circumstances.

MC, quite literally, didn't exist in this world before hand. And I severely doubt any government could manage to explain what should happen to her, if she has no family, guardians or anything in this world.

She could have been sent to RHC, but she was already enrolled at a yandere school when she was registered as a darling. Some could doubt her validity as a darling, which breaks the rules of RHC because of their yandere rules. (I'll make sense of this when I get around to writing the event)

With the MC's difficult position, it makes his job harder, because she's technically a student and she's also a darling, so he's covering his ass by pulling the 'oh, I already knew, and so did the students, so I didn't do anything wrong' if something happens to you.

Also, technically most yanderes, at least the ones we care about, were taught how to identify darlings since they were young, especially to make sure they don't accidentally kill one, if they're a rival for their darlings.

As for the censorship issue, I'm using it as a reason for MC to get closer to the staff, who will be platonic yanderes, as she'll use her limited knowledge as an excuse to sneak what she needs away from everyone.

I hope that answered it for you. 😊. And don't worry, you weren't rude.

[rocrown]

One reason the books in the Millennium series following the original trilogy don’t work for me is because I don’t feel like David Lagercrantz hates misogynists and fascists enough.

He very well may really hate them but it doesn’t come through in his writing the way it did with Larsson.

Stieg Larsson’s loathing was so explicit and so immense that I knew more than anything he really really despised misogynists and fascists. And the sequels lack that. They get bogged down in techno thriller and lame Marvel references and making Lisbeth a more palatable heroine, which misses the point for me.

Lisbeth is rage manifest: against a misogynistic and fascist society, its systems and institutions. She does the work she wants. She follows a rigid moral code of her own. She dresses how she wants. Goes where she wants. Associates with who she wants. Fucks who she wants. And if people don’t like that she dresses like a goth, hangs out with communists, is bisexual, is an abrasive unfriendly unsmiling woman, and punishes those who deserve it, well that’s too bad. She is rebellion against misogynistic conventions and expectations. She exists despite the fascists in her own government. And she hates them all. She is a storm Larsson set loose on his fictional but very real enemies. She is the embodiment of his hatred, made manifest to destroy and seek retribution in fiction in ways women like her rarely get to in real life.

I don’t get that from the other books. They’re too interested in the cyber aspects and too plot focused. They’re conventional thrillers and that’s where they fail. I didn’t want a conventional thriller with the characters from the Millennium trilogy because they lacks the soul. The beating heart of Millennium. It’s about justice—a righteous and furious justice, a kind of wish fulfilment in which women best their abusers and defy misogyny, and our heroes defeat fascists within their neoliberal governments.

Lagercrantz likely did what was asked of him. He wrote a thriller continuing the stories of these characters. You can’t fault him for that especially with the rising popularity of the series. He met the brief. It’s broader and the rougher edges filed off. In that way they were successful. But in doing so they lacked the character and tone of the originals. You could hear Larsson screaming Fuck You to misogynists and fascists on every page, just as abrasive and blunt as Lisbeth. That’s missing. And it’s a shame.

[ssaflorencem]

The thrill of killing you| BAU x unsub reader

Warnings: This chapter briefly mentions Spencers drug addiction. Towards the end there is the illusion to smut (that will be the next chapter). This chapter makes it seem the BAU team are just as bad as the reader.

Summary: The reader talks about what they know how the team, and follows them to a bar.

Chapter four: The narcissist

I know I said I wasn’t going to leave anything at the crime scenes, but the FBI are letting me get away with what I am doing far too easily, and I can’t let an innocent person get put away for the crimes I have committed. Also, I’ve heard stories of SSA Aaron Hotchner and Dr Spencer Reid. They aren’t innocent men, are they? I heard what Mr Hotchner did to that man who killed his wife, and well Spencer, he’s spent time in prison, and he’s made friends with someone like me.

 

I knew it wouldn’t be too long till they were on my case, I mean some of my friends had been trying to kill someone on their team. Miss Garcia, the smart, computer nerd. She’s the one who solves the majority of the cases, but everyone else takes credit. I kind of feel bad for her, I mean she was once on the right side of justice, but then she joined the FBI. Miss Prentiss, she once worked with, well actually dated, someone who was once in the IRA, so she doesn’t have the best track record either really. Mrs Jareau, someone who was once a media liaison and then got taken away from the FBI to a war zone. Mr Rossi, the man with so many ex-wives and a racist past, who fought in a war and helped create the BAU, not much to be said about him. And finally, Mr Alvez. He’s my favourite, war veteran, with a love for his dogs. He seems like the nicest out of all of them, I wish he wasn’t in love with Garcia.

 

All of them think they are better than me, what because they work for the law. But how many people have they killed because they have been certain they have committed terrible crimes. They all have troubled pasts, and that’s what led them to join the BAU. But so did I, and so did basically everyone I knew, but none of them joined a government agency and none of us had ever killed someone who was innocent.

 

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that they were all just hypocrites. They were supposed to be the ones upholding the law, but they were just as flawed and twisted as the criminals they were trying to take down.

 

Though I liked paying cat and mouse, I was going to take a break from killing for a while, just so they wouldn’t catch me before I wanted them too. I also wasn’t worried about them trying to connect me about my job, like they did with Cat Adams, because unlike her I thoroughly screen the people asking for my help.

 

For my time off, I went to Washington. I needed to keep a close eye on them, I mean I knew them, but they had no idea who I was. I saw they would visit this bar regularly; it was cute to watch them all sit around a table and drink, share jokes, and laughs like they weren’t all killers.

 

As I observed them, I noticed something interesting. Dr Reid was always the quiet one, the observer, the thinker. He would take in everything that was happening around him, like he was seeing through people's masks and into their true selves.

 

Then, I saw SSA Hotchner enter the bar, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on the table where his team sat. He walked over to them, his demeanour serious, and they all seemed to straighten up in their seats. It was like they knew he was the boss, the one who held all the power.

 

But as I watched them, I realized something else. They were a family, dysfunctional and flawed, but a family, nonetheless. They had each other's backs, no matter what. It was nice, sometimes I wished I had a team like that, but I knew I worked better on my own.

 

I continued to watch them, intrigued. They were all so different, yet they worked together seamlessly. They were all intelligent and skilled in their own ways, but Dr Reid stood out to me. There was something about him that drew me to him, something vulnerable, something broken. I wondered what it was that had led him down the path he had taken.

 

I knew his basic history, his troubled mother, his absent father, the bullying he had faced and how he had then lost his only other father figure, Jason Gideon. But I wanted to know about him.

 

I decided to approach Dr Reid. I knew he was smart, but I didn’t expect him to see through my disguise so quickly. He looked at me with his beautiful brown hazel eyes, I knew he was sizing me up.

 

“What can I do for you?” he asked, his voice calm and measured.

 

“Are you Dr Reid, I know this may seem creepy, but I saw you standing here I couldn’t believe it, so I’m just making sure it’s you.” I said with a soft smile.

 

“I am indeed. What’s your name?” He asked in a neutral tone.

 

I hesitated for a moment. I knew I had to be careful. “My name is Emily.”

 

“Well, Emily, what exactly can I do for you?” He asked with a smile, well more like a smirk.

 

“I wanted to talk to you about your work with the BAU. I’ve read some of your papers, and I think you are pretty amazing” I said, hoping to gain his trust.

 

Dr Reid raised an eyebrow in suspicion, but he didn't seem to be hostile towards me. "Thank you. But what do you want to know exactly?" he asked, his gaze never leaving mine.

 

"I'm just curious about the work you do, the cases you solve. I find it fascinating, and I thought it would be great to pick your brain a little," I said, trying to sound as friendly as possible.

 

Dr Reid gave me a small smile, and I could see the gears turning in his head. "I see. Well, I can't talk about ongoing cases, but I'm happy to chat about the work we do in general," he said, his tone polite.

 

I nodded eagerly, feeling a rush of excitement. Dr Reid was actually talking to me, and I could feel a strange connection forming between us. "That's great. So, what's the most challenging case you've worked on so far?"

 

Dr Reid's face grew serious as he thought back on his experiences. "There have been many challenging cases, but the ones that stick with me the most are the ones involving children. It's heart-breaking to see the amount of suffering they go through and the pain it causes their families," he said, his eyes filled with sadness.

 

I nodded, feeling a pang of sympathy for him. "That must be tough," I said, my voice soft.

 

He looked at me, his expression curious. "Why are you interested in this? Are you a student of some kind?"

 

I shook my head, trying to keep my composure. "No, I just find it fascinating. The human mind and what drives people to do the things they do," I said, hoping he wouldn't see through my lies.

 

Dr Reid continued to study me, his gaze piercing as he tried to determine my true intentions. I could feel my heart racing in my chest, wondering if he could sense my true nature.

 

Finally, he seemed to relax slightly, nodding in understanding. "I can certainly understand the fascination. It's a complex and often troubling field, but one that can also be incredibly rewarding," he said, his tone thoughtful.

 

I smiled, relieved that he didn't seem to suspect anything. "Exactly. I've always been drawn to the darker side of things, I suppose," I said, trying to sound casual.

 

Dr Reid's expression grew more serious, and he leaned in slightly. "Be careful with that kind of fascination. It's easy to get lost in the darkness, and it can be hard to find your way back," he said, his voice low.

 

I couldn't help but be intrigued by Dr Reid's warning. It was like he knew something about me that even I didn't know.

 

"I'll keep that in mind," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

 

Dr Reid nodded and leaned back, seeming to relax once again. We continued to chat for a while, discussing various cases and theories about criminal behaviour. I found myself drawn to his intelligence and passion for his work. It was like he could see right through me, like he knew my every thought and desire.

 

As we talked, I couldn't help but feel a growing attraction towards him. There was something about his vulnerability and his intelligence that made me want to know him more intimately. I knew I should be careful, but the pull was too strong. I had to have him.

 

 

I could see the desire in his eyes as he spoke, the way he looked at me with a mix of curiosity and intensity. It was like he was trying to figure me out, to understand me on a deeper level.

 

I knew I had to make my move. "Hey, do you want to get out of here?" I asked, my voice low and seductive.

 

Dr Reid looked at me, his expression unreadable. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice cautious.

 

"I mean, do you want to come back to my hotel room with me?" I said, my hand reaching out to touch his arm.

 

Dr Reid pulled back slightly; his eyebrows furrowed in concern. "I'm not sure that's a good idea. I hardly know you," he said, his voice hesitant.

 

I leaned in closer, my lips almost touching his ear. "You know me enough. Trust me, it'll be worth it," I whispered, my hand sliding down his arm.

 

Dr Reid hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering between my face and my hand on his arm. I could see the conflict in his eyes, the desire warring with caution.

 

Finally, he made his decision. "Alright," he said, his voice low.

 

I grinned triumphantly, leading him out of the bar and towards my hotel room. As we walked, I could feel his eyes on me, studying me intently. It was like he was trying to figure me out, to understand the darkness that lay within me.

————————————————————————–

Taglist:

@marvelwoman-sugarbaby

@ellieslver

[kalys-404]

Atlas "Sentinel" Osmerova backstory and headcanons

So I finally decided to give my OC a background story, which is kinda complicated so I'm just going to put the big lines here. There is also some headcanons on how she interacts with the rest of Shadow Co. and her personal life.

Background:

she was born in Vladivostok and has two older brothers who were already in the military when she was born.

her mother was very absent and uninvolved in her education.

her dad raised her in a military-like style because he didn't want a daughter.

when she was in 5th grade she got into a navy cadet class (cadet classes are a thing that lasts the child's whole education in Russia).

in 8th grade she was noticed as an excellent student and offered a transfer to an elite military school in Moscow, which she accepted.

she started coding at 6 and was fascinated by the dark web and more specifically the classified info that can be found there.

at 16 she knocked on the door of the FSB with a file that contained classified info from the Russian government and asked them to hire her because she was bored at school and knew she could do more.

they refused but offered her a position as soon as she graduated.

she was given a cyber-security degree from Moscow State University without ever going to university to make her employment look more legit.

she actually spent a year doing missions with the Spetsnaz as a form of field training. Afterward, most of her duties were centered around the FSB headquarters especially when she started rising in rank.

she got annoyed with the political bullshit and how it limited her range and freedom of action and left at 21yo.

she offered her services as an intelligence contractor on the dark web and met graves when he hired her for a job.

he hired her once, was impressed by her work and how she made sure the whole thing stayed quiet and hired her a second and then third time. Ultimately, he thought it would be a good idea to develop Shadow Co.'s intelligence by creating a designated department and offered her a leading position as it was safer than hiring someone he had never worked with.

Personal life and relationship with the rest of Shadow Company:

she has no contact with her family whatsoever and does not wish to contact them.

she functions solely on RedBull and spite.

she has a schizoid personality disorder and therefore does not have a very close relationship with the rest of shadow co., she is relatively close with 7-11 though and they banter daily.

even though she might seem distant from the rest of the shadows, she still gives off the "no one bullies my siblings but me" vibes and will kill anyone who messes with her guys.

she doesn't do any sex or romantic stuff but is an amazing cuddle buddy if you catch her at the right time and give her enough puppy eyes.

she doesn't really do any combat and people often assume she can't fight at all. Little do they know, she has been able to kill a fully armored soldier with her bare hands since she was 15 and is one of the most dangerous snipers to ever live. The shadows have bets going about her kill count, which only Graves knows.

her lack of empathy due to her mental illness makes her the voice of reason in any and all situations, which can be crucial during missions that take a bad turn.

she knows everything, and I mean EVERYTHING, like a shadow comes up to her like "Hey, have you seen my-" and she immediately goes "In the gymnasium.", or when someone starts telling her an anecdote about someone and she's like "I already knew that" even though said anecdote happened like 30 secs ago and she wasn't even there when it happened. She also knows a lot of stuff that is definitely some of the most classified shit on earth but no one mentions it.

she has 50 backup plans and is creating more by the second.

knows some of the more elaborate torture techniques to ever exist and will not hesitate to use them if need be.

her lack of facial expressions makes it impossible for people to know what she is feeling, even the shadows have a hard time guessing her emotions (if she even feels any).

probably the most blunt and honest person in the company.

she goes by her callsign most of the time and Graves is the only one to call her by her first name when he feels like he has a death wish.

she is fluent in French, Russian, ASL, FSL, Spanish, Japanese, Korean, German, RSL and Mandarin. (and obviously English)

she is semi-verbal and uses sign language when she doesn't feel like talking.

I don't have any other ideas right now but if you'd like to know how she would react to certain situations let me know and I will add it.

[bigmandiego]

{ JAN LUIS CASTELLANOS, 22, CIS MALE, HE/HIM } Is that DIEGO FUENTES? A SENIOR originally from MANHATTAN, NY, they decided to come to Ogden College to study ASTROPHYSICS & ASTRONOMY. They’re THE BIG MAN ON CAMPUS on campus, but even they could get blamed for Greer’s disappearance.

THE BASICS

FULL NAME:  Diego Luis Fuentes NICKNAMES:  D/Dee/Di however you want to spell it and Fuentes is common AGE:  22 BIRTHDAY:  May 18th HOMETOWN:  Manhattan, New York ETHNICITY:  Dominican SPOKEN LANGUAGES:  English, Spanish, French, and Italian GENDER & PRONOUNS:  Cis Male, He/Him SEXUAL ORIENTATION:  Bisexual

DIGGING IN DEEPER

MBTI TYPE: ESFJ-T ALIGNMENT:  Neutral Good POSTIIVE TRAITS:  Practical, Hard Working, Enthusiastic NEGATIVE TRAITS:  Stubborn, Insecure, Idealistic SMOKES/DRINKS/DRUGS:  No, Yes, Sometimes EXTRACURRICULARS:  Football Captain, Cross Country Member, Senior Student Governance Member, Triathlon Club, Sigma Alpha Epsilon president CHARACTER INSPIRATIONS: Nick Young (Crazy Rich Asians), Ted Mullens (Schitt's Creek), Nate Archibald (Gossip Girl), Dr. James Wilson (House), Ann Perkins (Parks & Rec)

HOW HE EMBODIES HIS TROPE

Diego is perfect, that’s what everyone thinks anyway. Not only is he athletic, not only is he smart, not only is he charming and well liked— it’s all deserved. He works hard to not let his teammates on the football team down. He works harder to keep his grades up. He is kind hearted, and sincerely as friendly as he comes across. He has everything he could possibly want. He even had the future anybody could have wanted. A secure spot as partner in his father’s law firm after graduating law school, and the perfect future wife, in Greer Morrison. Except Diego didn’t want any of that. He never wanted to study law. Parts of his relationship with Greer… were complicated at best. So, when he came back junior year with a brand new major (he always felt nerdy about his love of space and physics, but it is something he had been passionate about since he was a child), and no girlfriend it was surprising to everybody. He doesn’t think much really has changed. He’s still athletic, he’s still smart, he’s still loved by everyone. He is just doing something he actually loves, so Diego still feels bigger than ever.

HIS RELATIONSHIP WITH GREER

He grew up with Greer. He knew her since they were little kids, and their parents knew each other before that. They went to all of the best schools together, they went to all of the best parties together, they went on vacations together. They were inseparable, though it was not necessarily through any decision of their own. A lot of his life was decided for him without any real decision of his own for a lot of his life, and he always felt like that was something he and Greer really related to each other on. It’s just how people like them are raised. He still thinks about a moment when they were young, about ten at most, the two of them sitting on some ornate staircase in the middle of a Christmas party commiserating about how awkward their parents make them feel around each other because they never stopped talking about how cute they were together. Greer said, ‘I wish they wouldn’t’, and Diego feels like maybe that single moment summed up their entire relationship.

Not to say he didn’t love Greer, not to say they didn’t want to date when they suddenly were wracked with hormones. Diego definitely wanted to date her, and he still loves her. He always will, but they did not have a great relationship. He was a terrible boyfriend, and she was a terrible girlfriend. They pretended like they were perfect, they had the act down. Smile, hold hands, kiss, laugh good naturedly when their relatives brought up their future together. They were put into a tiny box together, and over the years it ruined any chance they really had with each other. It made them miserable, and in turn they made each other miserable— but only behind closed doors, which can be even more damning than publicly airing your dirty laundry. They broke up in their Sophomore year, and he thinks they were both happier and better for it. At least he hopes that is the case.

WHAT'S HAPPENED RECENTLY

After the situation the previous year started going down Diego has been very stressed out. Not only is he looked at suspiciously as Greer's former boyfriend (and not even the most recent one!), but as someone who did openly argue with Greer quite a lot while they were dating. His roommate was also arrested and sent to jail. His best friend was fucking his girlfriend behind his back. Someone is out blackmailing everybody, and someone who he was extremely close with since they were children had disappeared. It was perhaps a bit of a selfish thing to do, but Diego left Ogden at the end of last year, a few days before the fire at the Commons happened.

During the year he had applied for internships, and study abroad programs and ended up in Paris France from the start of the Summer, until the start of this current term. He has been working as an intern at the European Space Agency, and attending Paris Sciences et Lettres -- PSL Research Paris, a school ranked number 1 in France, and in the top 50 in the world. So, yes, he left Ogden on a study abroad program for half a year, but it was for his career, and for his experiance -- it wasn't to get away from all of this. That's what he says.

HEADCANONS

Diego's family is a link between New Money, and Old Money. His father is new money, having made a name for himself as an extremely aggressive defense attorney for a lot of New York's Elite (think Saul Goodman for wealthy people). That is how he met Diego's mother, a woman part of the oldest families in New York City. Her parents weren't a fan of the match, but what was her father going to say? No to the man who got him out of spending years in prison for embezzlement and fraud? So, the two of them got married and had their only child, Diego who bears the weight of old money expectations, and new money ambitions.

Up until this year Diego was planning to study law and become a partner at his father's law firm, but that was only because his father wanted him to. Surprisingly he came back this year to study two completely different things (Astrophysics, and Astronomy). It's caused a bit of tension back home, but he's always wanted to work for NASA, he's never in his entire life wanted to be a lawyer.

Diego prides himself on making sure he’s not handed anything, despite who his family may be. It’s one of the reasons he’s happier in a field of study that his parents have nothing to do with. He works really hard to maintain good grades. He works really hard to maintain his spot as Captain of the Football Team, and on Cross Country. He works really hard organizing things for SAE. He works really fucking hard, stressing himself out on the amount of work constantly on his plate and worrying if he’s good enough. He just wants to earn what he has on his merit. Not because of who he is.

He grew up with Greer. He knew her since they were kids, they were dating since they entered high school. He loves her, he'd be the first one to say that. He loves her as a friend, and as someone who has been in his life for as long as he can remember. But their relationship was fucked. Their breakup wasn't amicable, nor were they that amicable after they broke up, but it was mutual, and it didn't stop how he feels about her.

MORE COMING SOON .... 

[becomingthevlillainsfamily]

Hero x villain

“How unprofessional” hero muttered, pulling herself back she felt the cold railing supporting her, her aide sitting down on the sofa was visibly embarrassed by her outward dissatisfaction and the unrestrained gazes of people, tracing the hero’s figure who was lounging her hand leisurely on the metal rods, “You can leave” hero muttered, feeling the cool wind grazing her cheek “Go enjoy yourself, before i go crazy and destroy this event” the aide stood up, “You can’t do that” determination laced in his words “Destroying an official banquet held by the government is a ‘no’” his resolute demeanor making hero even more exhausted as she waved him out of the balcony, “Do they really believe an alliance would work?” she grumbled again that’s what she had been doing since the last two weeks, they called her the youngest ‘hero’ ever to achieved these many rewards but when it came to official things, like an alliance to maintain peace between the hero’s and the ‘Red lions’ the most notorious villain group, they called her a kid, inexperienced, she was experienced, having participated in the longest battle ever, she had entered the grounds in the last 4 years, they called it the ‘World changing battle’ the only thing the war changed was the opinion’s of the participant who had seen things worse than death. She stomped her leg, falling down instantly as the heel broke, she grabbed the broken heel and her other heel banging it on the railing with brute force, putting back her now flat previously heels, she smiled, tightening her grip on the broken projection of the shoes, with a wish she threw the heels away “May my worst enemy die” as if her wish had just come true, a voice from below pulled her out of her thoughts “Hey who do you think you are trying to assassinate?” a boy, her age pulled himself out under the dazzling light, as the wind blew he let his hand fall down from his head. It was clear that the heels had hit his head, maybe the heels knew who was the enemy she was talking about and so to fulfill their owner’s wishes they landed up on his brainless, skull covered by human flesh “Aren't you grateful that I hit your head instead of your knee? Otherwise, your tiny brain located in your knee might have ceased to function as well.” she tilted her head clearly proud of her actions, a twisted smile forming on the young villain’s face, “Oh really?” he shouted, plunging himself up on the railing, “Look who’s saying, the person who ransacked their brains and ended up with the graceless idea of throwing off their heels” his nose scrunched up, making a strange face, effect of retaliation visible on the hero’s face. As they both continued maintaining their eye contact, both unwilling to look away first, the villain slowly muttering “Graceless hero” and sending hero into a state of frenzy as she grabbed the villain off the railing and threw him on the sofa. While the villain tried to understand ‘what in the world just happened’ the door opened, the hero’s and the villain’s leaders trotting inside the balcony, “Oh look both of you are here” the vice head of the hero’s spoke, cheerfully “This is fate”, “So they are the promising young lads” the leader of ‘Red lion’s muttered, he had seen the villain currently lying on the sofa in a disheveled state many times he was a promising talent and to maintain the treaty this time instead of on paper but in reality, both the sides had to put up something on stake, he glanced at the unnerved young villain’s eyes staring daggers at the hero standing beside him, “That’s it” the leaders turned to each other, exchanging glances with each other and their young talents, with and emotional expression “The marriage is fixed”.

The smile fell of the hero’s and villain’s face, not bothering to stand up from the floor the villain threw himself on to in surprise, he glanced at hero and the leaders, “What?” something was terribly wrong over here.

[precambrian-sea-pancake]

Giving context to things in Shadows of Rose that really needed context because I didn’t like them and they barely got context.

1) The Winter’s separating: it’s very much established they would not willingly separate. Mia loves Rose. There’s no way she’d willingly give up another family member after being widowed. Plus, Chris OF ALL PEOPLE should not want to separate the family. Literally the whole theme was about family. Hot take but there’s 3 of them.

2) Chris saying he would protect Rose and then asking her to join the squad: I refuse to believe Chris would go against his dying friend’s wishes. Putting someone in a fight isn’t protection

3) Rose barely knowing anything about Ethan: I mean…come on. That’s your dead husband and your dead friend who basically made you the godfather. There’s got to be a reason, right?

So…enjoy me fixing all of that by saying things Capcom loves to leave out

———

Mia raised Rose in the beginning when she was a kid, with the help of Chis. They were close. She was very paranoid about her safety and did everything she could to help Rose live a normal life considering they were under even stricter protection than before. Because of this and the fact that Rose would be too young to understand at the time, Mia and Chris were very selective about what was said. They told her things like “your father loved you” “he died protecting you” “he would’ve loved to be here”

The two of them wanted her so do to school because she needed socialization. Unfortunately she had a very hard time. Chris and Mia did their best to be supportive but it was a very tough situation for all of them.

Eventually when she got a little older the higher ups realized how much at risk the Winters were (and also for selfish reasons because Rose powerful. I mean…let us not forget Sherry ;-;), decided it would be best to separate the two to “protect” them. Be it by boarding school, training, etc. It’s kinda unclear but it happened.

Mia hated this. She couldn’t lose Rose but ultimately didn’t have any power over the situation. Chris hated it just as much also tried to prevent this but he too couldn’t change it.

Chis contact with Rose given his job and was the bridge between the two but as time went on things got more complicated and messy.

Eventually Chris got to a point where he wanted Rose by his side more often and to be the one in control instead of the higher ups. So he wanted Rose to join his squad so she could defend herself and not belong to some shitty government thing. At least this way it was easier…at least in Chris’s mind. To him it was protection. Was it the best idea? No, but to him it was.

After the DLC, they learn Ethan is still present in some sort of way. It motivates Chris to try fighting once more for the family to be together again.

Rose remembers everything she saw in the Megamycete’s recreation of her old house and how both of her parents loved her…and sees the mother on the bus reading a book to her kid.

Now both motivated to try again they’re successfully able to get visitation between Rose and Mia.

It starts off slow but eventually it happens more and more. It’s hard because it’s been so long, but they work to reconnect. Since Rose is older and has context, Mia (although very hesitant and needing some encouragement. Plus taking a few meetings for it to even happen) explains their family history to Rose piece by piece until the story is complete.

As for Rose joining the squad?

She joined because she knew her dad fought to help her family. She, like her father, is a kind person. She wants to help protect people and make sure they don’t suffer the same fate as her family. One more good soul to combat a corrupt world. She’s at an awkward age at a very emotional time. Her decisions might not be final but it’s giving it a try. She might stay or she might not. She might like it or she might hate it. Only time and experiences will decide that.

While things aren’t perfect, the Winters are at least together. Just like what Chris tried to do, and just like what Ethan wanted.

———

It’s not perfect, but I tried my best with what was available and worked within the confines of the story. I loved the DLC, but it does have flaws that annoy me. So I fixed it UwU.

[itsyagurlchip]

QUESTIONS FOR YOUR OC CHIP

#1: what is one secret she hasn't told anyone

#2: how do you think she met Amor? And what were her first impressions of Amor?

#3: What is her home life like? Is it good? Bad? How does she feel about it?

#4: How did Chip react to the Superfly thing? And where was she when it happened?

alright-

A secret she hasn't told anyone?

After the attack of Supa Dupa Fly, despite the warnings from the government, Chip still went to the beach to get some of the ooze. The reason why no one has found out yet was because she uses it as a lava lamp.

How did her an Amor meet? First impressions?

Like any other person at a school. During the 15 min recess (sobs) Chip was just being goofy by her lonesome until she saw Amor and Bea chillin out in some part of the yard, walking and talking.

She thought it was cool that mutants were let in school (cough cough racism and specism cough cough) and wanted to become friends with them!

At first she was nervous- she understands how people work differently than her- so she didn't really want to bother any of them.

But then she saw how Amor's fur would fluff up when she laugh, or how Bea's arms would stretch out and gesturing to something- and threw that all out of he window.

Chip excitedly ran up to the two mutants enthusiastically, her snack bag sitting on her hip and ready to share. She tripped and fell face-first into the chalky dirt.

Springing back up, she ran on the two excitedly, shoving fresh snacks at them as a welcome. Despite the suspicious glitter and paper scraps falling from them, Amor accepted the gifts.

Bouncing up and down, Chip just knew that this would be her best year of highschool ever.

Her home life? Good or Bad?

She has a good home life. Both parents have jobs so she has a two story house and some extra money to spend (sadly, only on snacks and the occasional necessity).

Despite that, she gets in trouble with her parents a lot due to her poor decision making, as well as her belief that she can bounce back from anything.

Personally, she just wishes that she could invite people over more often, but Chip isn't the most organized person there is. Projects all over the house, piles of unfolded clothes in her room 80% of the time, and art supplies bits stuck in almost every part of the carpet.

How did Chip react to Superfly and the mutants situation?

Chip was at the park when it happened. And soon after hearing the news, she ran back to her house to find her parents.

Despite having one part of her house caved in (the one with HER room!!) , she is glad that her parents are alive. Not so happy that she has to restart her random doo-dads collection and restore some of her art supplies and pieces.

Hearing that the giant mutant came from the shore, she instantly ran to the docks with a jar out of curiosity. Even with her silly nature, Chip understood that this substance was dangerous.

That didn't stop her though,

Careful not to touch it, she collected a fair amount and placed the jar on her desk. And after she got enough money, she transferred it to a cooler looking container, lest someone be suspicious of what a 16 year old was doing with a DNA altering liquid.

(๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و tags: @kittykittyanon @radicallxser @oleander-nin @towomatos @thealphagirl

@ziipzeepzop-eez @spongejuice @nuncscioquidsitamor-13 @cyb3r-st4r

if you would like to be added, check my blog. if you would like to be added, check my blog. SEE? I SAID IT TWICE!!

[lightning-and-sparks]

So for the dancers power levels, does that come into play later with an intra-group conflict or with them and an outside force? I really loved the scene where Brezziana, Sara, and Mihaly talked about Jack’s power because of how it brought out their different sides and started that thread of a conflict between them and power. Is the order of it Wander>Mihaly>Brezziana>Sara>Jack? Is that something that subconsciously rules the governs the group? You’ve done such an amazing job of fleshing everyone out and making them seem like friends, but ones who may have their bonds fracture under the situation. Also just wanted to say you did such an incredible job on all of Thorns, between its length and subplot management, well written and meaningful OCs, and worldbuilding, but my favorite part is how you’ve handled the Dancers as a whole, especially from Jack’s perspective!

Oh, now this is a good one! So early on, it already was a very different idea to give Jack some kind of power. I think when I first saw the Locked Out of Heaven map my first thought was that it was him holding up the mirrors and when they changed to show Night Swan it was his own mental struggle taking over. On terms of power dynamics, you nailed it. I knew I wanted to have Jack and Wander on opposite ends of the spectrum. As prideful as Jack and NS were/are, Jack’s low ability for magic (after being a descendant of Night Swan) is seen as embarrassing and is something that upsets him.

The whole story has been about him being undermined and overwhelmed by the people close to him. When he hears them discussing how he isn’t strong enough to defeat them and he’s basically at their mercy it reveals the dynamic of him being below them more clearly. Jack’s hesitance to pursue Wander subconsciously comes back to that. He knows if things go wrong between them, it will be him cut off from the group, if you go back to that hierarchy you mentioned before, Wander is the only thing keeping them intertwined because he can bridge the gap between planets.

I think what makes Thorns convincing is how messy and flawed characters and situations seem. No one there is perfect and are prone to failure. Unconsciously, although they detest that fact, they have some fear of Jack. Compared to Wander who stayed for a period of time afterwards (events of majesty) he no longer has that weary. His race does come back into play because it’s an Eternyx centered story. Eternians are not common outside their domain so that adds to his suspicion.

It was challenging to balance so many characters at once but I think I did okay. It gave me a lot of eyes and ears to work with so it was helpful. I thought having parts where they’re scattered or paired off worked well to show their personal connections. Jack is seen with them all one-on-one at some point. I held off on Brezz and his encounter because I had cold feet on how the reaction to Brezz’s friendship came about. She’s a very selfless character so I wanted to see her take something for herself just for it to come back to her actual carrying, if that makes sense?

I think as a group it’s difficult to take very individual characters and have them work effectively together. I don’t think all of them would have done some of the things Jack had done (that’s why he chooses to leave them out of certain events) he’s also struggling to regain himself and wants his image to come out unscathed. He doesn’t tell them about certain encounters with Roland in order to protect his pride and hide his shame. Although he doesn’t act like it, he cares a whole lot what they think of him. I mean, he’s always held under high scrutiny so he sees friendship as the same concept.

Thank you so much! I really wish I could explain all the thought and trial and failure that went into Thorns. It took a lot of energy and time to hold each strand of a story together and expand and fill plot holes to fix narrative problems in the beginning. There are a lot of gags and stupid shit that I put in there, namely Brezz’s Crocs because I thought it was funny and I rep an obnoxious pair of yellow Crocs that I get some awesome hate over 💪 these questions are awesome and I’d love to field more! I have a whole lot to say.

[unfinishedslurs]

Spiderman au (stoncy)

Jonathan makes sure to check that the ally is well and truly empty before he pulls his mask up. Christ, he wouldn’t have become Spider-Man if he’d known how hot the suit would be. And not in the fun way people like to joke about. He chugs his water, and debates pouring some over his head. Sadly he needs it to hydrate. He slowly drinks the rest like a good superhero.

That’s still insane to him. Even after years of experience, he still sometimes thinks he’s going to wake up and it will all have been a bad dream.

Nancy told him she got into investigative reporting after her best friend went missing. She was found a year later, body deteriorating inside the restricted area of a government lab that had faces a chemical leak. A leak they tried their best to cover up.

Her first article is under someone else’s name. He’s read it. It’s incredibly good for a seventeen year old burning with righteous fury. It’s obvious that she was meant for this, built for finding the cracks and burrowing deeper until she pulls the ugly truth. 

He respects her deeply. He just wishes that he wasn’t the crack she’s focusing on.

“You’ve spoken to him though, Jonathan,” she says, eyes pleading. “If anyone could get me an interview, it would be you!”

And have her recognize him instantly? No thanks.

“Nancy, seriously. He doesn’t want an interview.”

“But if I could just talk to him-”

“No, Nance.”

He knows her first regret will always be Barb. Her second, though? The ex-boyfriend who also went missing after agreeing to some extremely shady treatment for his terminal cancer. Unlike Barb, she never got closure for that one. She still doesn’t know what happened to him. She tracked him as far as the facility they’d taken him to, but it exploded long before she got there. Presumably with Steve inside. 

He knows she still holds out hope. They never identified his body she’d whispered to him once after too many drinks at an office party. I checked the records. They don’t know for certain if he was still in it.

The next day she told him she knew it was a stupid wish. Even if the explosion hadn’t killed him, the cancer would have by now. But he knows Nancy. She’ll never stop wondering.

“So how’d you get yours?” Deadpool asks, swinging his legs cheerfully over the ledge.

“My Chimichanga? You gave it to me.”

He can practically see Deadpool roll his eyes behind his mask. “No, smartass. Your powers.” 

That’s a loaded question. If he’s too specific it would be easy to find out who he is. But it’s not like it would be with anyone else, is it? Deadpool’s a hero too, no matter how much anti he puts in front of it. And they’re friends, or something like it. Friendly enough for him to let the other man slap his ass at least.

“I got bit by a radioactive spider.”

“No,” he gasps, whipping his head towards Jonathan. “No fucking way. Seriously?”

“I’m being completely serious!” He promises, starting to laugh. It really does sound ridiculous out loud. “I was on this field trip at the place my mom’s ex-boyfriend worked at, and it got out and bit me!”

“Field trip? Oh my God, you were a fucking baby. No wonder your mom broke up with that guy.”

That sobers him up quick. “He was actually a really nice guy,” he says quietly, looking down at his hands. “He, uh…he died, actually.” Saving my brother, he doesn’t say. The failure still bleeds in his chest. He should have been stronger. Bob didn’t deserve the way he died, ripped apart by the Green Goblin because they’d been after him.

His mom doesn’t blame him, but she should.

“Shit,” Deadpool swears, reaching towards Jonathan as if to comfort before thinking better of it and pulling away. “Shit, I shouldn’t have said that, sorry. Me and my big fucking mouth.”

“It’s more trouble than you’re worth,” Jonathan agrees, and ignores the protest that gets. “What about you? How’d you get your powers?”

Deadpool takes the deflect with grace, eager as Jonathan to get the awkwardness behind them. “Oh, me? Great story, you’re gonna love this. So I was dying from cancer, right?”

He wasn’t expecting that, almost choking on the chimichanga he’d taken a bite of.

“Gross, man. Chew it, don’t spew it.”

“You have cancer and you’re out here doing all this?”

“I had cancer,” he corrects. “Terminal. There was no saving me, yanno? And I…well, I got desperate.”

Jonathan sucks in a breath. He knows exactly what kind of things desperation lead to.

Deadpool huffs a laugh. “Yeah,” he agrees, even though Jonathan hasn’t said anything. “Stupid of me, I know. Shoulda just kicked the bucket like a respectable motherfucker. But no, I just had to track down some shady research facility that promised to try and find a cure for me. You know how that goes, right? But, well…” He raises a fist, dropping it slowly down before he opens it near his thigh, making an explosion noise with his mouth. “Rock fucking bottom, amiright? I was gonna die anyway. Why not add human experimentation to my bucket list?”

“So it worked?”

“So it worked?” He mimics, in a high-pitched voice that sounds nothing like Jonathan. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“How’d you get superpowers from it?”

“I was getting to that. So it worked, right? But the cure they used…it wasn’t designed to stop the cancer. Not really. No, what they did was turn me into a mutant. I’m basically an X-Men by now. X-Man? Point is, not dying did not come naturally. And once they brought it out of me, they made sure to test it. Again, and again, and again.”

Suddenly his chimichanga doesn’t look too good anymore. He hands it to Deadpool, who takes it with enthusiasm.

“Thanks, man, how’d you know I was still hungry? Anyway, I escaped, obviously. Took the whole organization down with me. By the time I left, whole building was in flames. Now I’m hunting down the survivors.” He takes a bite. “Y’sure you don’ wan dish?” He asks through a mouthful of food.

“I’m good.”

He swallows. “Your loss, I guess. This is fucking delicious. Sorry to be a moodkiller and run, but I’m afraid I have an appointment with a very small, very blind landlady. Toodles!” 

He leaves Jonathan there at a loss for words. He can’t even make a sound to protest. All he can do is watch as Deadpool jumps straight down from the roof, only barely bothering to slow his fall so he doesn’t break his leg. Not that it would matter much if he did. Jonathan stays on the roof, processing, until he hears a woman cry for help a few streets away. 

He hits his web-shooters. Crime never sleeps in the city. 

It’s only when he’s in bed that he realizes he’s heard that story before. 

The next time he sees Nancy, he’s a mess. 

“You ready to shoot?” She asks, setting a coffee on his desk with a smile. It falters when all he does is stare back. “Jonathan?”

Ready to shoot? Right. Photography. His job. His job he works at with Nancy. Nancy, whose ex-boyfriend may or may not be the guy who has slapped his ass and flirted with him on numerous occasions. Fuck. He’s going insane. He’s losing his fucking mind. Deadpool probably isn’t even Steve and all this will be for nothing. 

“Your ex-boyfriend,” he blurts out. She rears back, startled. “He had cancer, right?”

“Steve?” She shakes her head, not in disagreement but in confusion. “What does he have to do with anything?”

“Did he?”

Her mouth twists in displeasure. He doesn’t blame her, that was a terrible fucking way to start “Hey, your dead boyfriend might not be so dead after all!” He wishes he could bang his head on his desk without cracking the table. “I’m not talking about this.”

“Nancy, wait,” he starts, and she shakes her head again.

“I’m going to see if Fred is free, actually,” she says, and hurries away. He groans, and lets his head fall onto his desk anyway. One tiny crack won’t matter, right?

It’ll fit in with all the others.

Nancy avoids him for the next week. By the time he sees Deadpool again, he’s even more of a mess.

“Spidey!” He greets, blood dripping off his sword. “I know I ask this every time, but I just gotta check, man. You seen anyone named Brenner around?”

“Still a no, sorry.”

He sighs, wiping off his blade before sticking it back in the sheath. “Worth a shot.”

“Do you ever talk to people from your old life?” Jonathan blurts out. “Before you became a superhero?”

Deadpool shrugs nonchalantly, but he can’t pass off the tension in his shoulders. “They all think I’m dead,” he says. “It’s better that way.”

“Didn’t you have a girlfriend? Or friends? Parents?”

“Friends, not really. Parents, no. Girlfriend…she’s better off this way.” He says, counting on his fingers. He laughs bitterly. “I stopped talking to my parents before I even got diagnosed, and my only friend was my girlfriend. I dumped all the other ones for being assholes after…well, some shit went down, and they were real dicks about it, that’s all I’m gonna say.” He turns to Jonathan, suspicious. “Why the third-degree?”

“What’s dying like?”

“Pretty chill, actually,” he says. Jonathan turns to look at him, and he gets the impression Deadpool is grinning. “Don’t get me wrong, the dying part? That fucking suuuuuucks. But Death itself isn’t so bad. I usually just chill with Her for a while before She sends me back.”

“...Her?”

“Oh yeah, The Lady loves me. We’re besties.”

“You’re besties,” he repeats flatly. “With Death.”

“What? Like that’s so hard to believe, Mr. Radioactive Spider?”

He’s got him there. “What’s Death like then? The…Lady, or whatever.”

“Well, first of all, she’s a massive lesbian.”

Jonathan should have known nothing that came out of his mouth would be fucking normal. “I’m leaving.”

“No, wait!” Deadpool grabs his arm. “I’m being serious! Death is a lesbian, she loves birds and prefers to go by Robin, and we’re apparently soulmates.”

“…are you a girl?” 

“No?”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“C’mon, Spidey, open your mind.” If he could see his face, he knows that bastard would be smirking at him. “We’re not romantic. She actually hated me at first. I mean we’re literally tied together by the universe. Whatever souls are made of, hers and mine are the same.’

“Is that Emily Bronte?”

“Look who paid attention in high school english!” 

He misses his bed.