#i was supposed to work on updating bitch me this week but now my brain has been annihilated

[satancopilotsmytardis]

This demon prince fic is going to make me extremely ill unfortunately

[sinner-sunflower]

P.2 HH Lucifer-centric AU 18/?

STORY 1, PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 14.5, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22, PART 23, PART 24, PART 25, PART 26

Update: There will be a change in the chapter upload schedule. New chapters here will be posted MWF starting this week so next update will be on Friday. While TTh are days for me to rewrite and post story 1 chapters on ao3.

Thank you for your understanding <3

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Adam is actually adjusting rather well in Hell which, honestly, baffled Charlie and the others. Lucifer not so much because he's pretty sure Adam was not meant for Heaven but they didn't wanna embarrass themselves by having the first human soul fall in Hell.

And they say Lucifer's the prideful one.

Sure, the dickhead bitches and complains but he deduced the guy would do it regardless of where he was. He always thought that Adam was a lazy ass son of a bitch who's all dick and no brains; like one of those jock characters from Charlie's DVD collection.

Maybe that's why he's adjusting so well. His attitude is very on brand for Hell.

Still doesn't explain this, though.

Lucifer: How are you so good at this? I thought you said you hated it.

Adam: I said I hated it not that I'm shit at it. Besides, who the fuck loves doing paperwork?

Today, Lucifer is at the palace catching up on centuries worth of documents that he missed during this 'me-time'. The Sins initially offered to take over so that he could rest but he insists on doing it himself. He feels bad about relying on the Sins too much every time there's a problem. He's supposed to the older brother! The-uh- King of Hell! And what King can't even do simple paperwork?

Apparently he is, because he and Adam have been at this for days now and the pile just never seem to lessen. He's beginning to think someone has cursed him to be stuck here forever.

Speaking of Adam, Lucifer won't admit it to his face but the other has been a very big help; like they're actually making progress and none of the work is half-assed too.

He can't help but look on in wonder at how the first man is just zooming through the endless papers.

Adam: Oi. I know I'm a fine piece of art but can you stop lookin' at me like that? Take a picture, it'll last longer.

Lucifer: I just can't get my head around all this.

Adam: What's not to get, bruh? You know I'm good at everything; even the boring shit. I handle Sera's when she's too busy doing fuck knows too, you know!

Lucifer: Excuse- what?! You handled Sera's documents?? And she didn't stop you the first time???

Adam: Okay- why the fuck are you acting like that's such a shock?

Lucifer: Helloooooo it's freakin' Sera? It's you? I just-

Lucifer makes an exaggerated gesture of scratching his head in mock confusion.

Lucifer: -is she out of her mind? Did she suffer some form of brain damage?

Adam: Okay, look. You are making this into a way bigger deal than it needs to be, I don't pry into your stupid skills and insecurities.

Lucifer: Bitch, you literally do that all the time!

It was nice, in a weird way, how they're bantering. It almost reminds Lucifer of the first days he came to Eden; how Lilith and Adam pretended for a bit to get along for him.

As an angel, he was taught to see the good in everything. After all, everything was made by Father's hand so why would they be anything less than good and perfect?

They say that God is omnipotent and all-knowing, so he often wonders if his Father intentionally made the humans that way. Still does not explain why he would cast him out when the mistake was in his Father's hands.

Because.

Adam was fun until he said something about Lilith. Adam was fine until he acts like a 'man'. Adam was a friend until he wasn't.

Eden was one hell of a reality check. Pun intended.

Man, was pre-humanity Heaven always been cult-like?

Adam: Bro, how bout you shut up and let me do the work you've forced upon me. And why are you here anyway? I thought you live at that hotel now.

Lucifer: Oh? Would you rather do the work there? I have to warn you; Nifty goes in and out of rooms as she pleases to clean so-

Adam: Ah!!!! Don't say that name!

Lucifer: What? Afraid she's gonna come out of the mirror like some sort of Bloody Mary?

Adam bearing his teeth at him like a wild animal is a funny sight to see but then a got a very genius idea, a literal lightbulb turned on above his head.

Lucifer: Nifty...

Sensing what Lucifer is doing, Adam scrambles up and charges at him. Lucifer dodged him with ease and flies high above the room away from prying hands.

Lucifer: Niftyyyyy~

Adam: Lucifer, stop that shit!

Lucifer: Niffffffffffffffty-

Nifty: Hey guys!

The scream the two let out at the sudden voice were embarrassingly high enough to be mistaken for a teenage girl's.

Adam: WHAT THE FUCK?!

Lucifer: Jesus Christ!

Despite the panic in front of her, the little cyclops just smiled on.

Lucifer: Nifty, what in the world are you doing here?

Adam: Get that thing away from me!

Lucifer: Oh don't be such a baby, it's just Nifty.

Adam: You screamed too, asshole!

He gave Adam a wave to say 'whatever' and turns back to Nifty who has her eyes locked on the panicking demon behind him.

Maybe he should let her have at it at him just a little.

Nifty: I'd love to start a goat collection hehe~

Okay, nevermind. With Adam's surprising skills at organization, he can't afford to die yet until he finishes Lucifer's paperwork.

Lucifer: Uh Nifty, my question?

Nifty: Yes, roach queen?

Lucifer: Roach what? You know what, don't answer that. I asked why are you here.

Nifty: Oh! Miss Charlie is calling for you. Seems pretty urgent.

Lucifer: Did something happen at the hotel?

Nifty: Not really!

Lucifer: So?? What is it???

Nifty: Have you been outside at all, Mr. King?

Lucifer: Well no. We've been holled up all day doing this-

He vaguely gestures to the mess of his office.

Lucifer: And I put up a sound barrier so we wouldn't get distracted. I've also turned off my phone sooooooooOHHHH my god!

What the shit?? 666 missed calls??? Most of them are from Charlie.

Nifty: Said that no one could reach you. The others are trying to calm the panic cause most of the icky demons went straight into the hotel. I wanted to stab them but Miss Charlie told me to just come here and get you!

Probably to prevent bloodshed. His daughter is so smart but-

Lucifer: What actually is happening, Nifty?

Nifty: Oh! The sky is falling!

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Sorry if it's a bit short but I just wanted to write AdamsApple banter and a bit of introspective.

Also, is that a chicken little reference???

Kudos to you if you saw that Spring Broken reference (arguably my fave Helluva Boss episode all because of the creative insults)

[ddelline]

snf (still not finished) saturday

blurb | working my ass off to update cv/sm or adsr before weeks' end, bc I said I would and it's been long f*cking enough, but! bkdk is rotting my brain thru and thru and showing no signs of stopping. so on an unrelated here's some ch425-compliant post-war bkdk

premise | as it says on the tin, wip post-war ch425-compliant bkdk. featuring soft!kacchan/nacchan/wacchan, bc holy f*ck y'all but a bitch read ch424 and even if I'm working on other fic, wtf am I supposed to think of except I guess I thought we'd be competing and I'd be on your heels for the rest of our lives? TELL ME. I will never be over it. anyway in the context of the fic this is a flashback scene. spoilers for ch362

Rain slicks down his spine. It’s different from blood, rain; tastes of water, a little sweeter on the tongue but overall neutral. If he tongues his cheek it’s metallic, but breathing through his mouth tastes watery. It feels safer. He’s not buying time, exactly, but he’s got to think—and if he can focus on the rain, at least he’s not cataloging the places in which he’s broken open and bleeding. The myriad places in which he’s soft and vulnerable. The thousand different spots that have been pried open and defenseless.

It hurts. It hurts it hurtsfuckithurts.

He wills his eyes to stay open. Eyelashes clumping with blood is a right bitch, but he’s retained full eyesight.

Right side. Finger. Feint.

Maybe it’s not rain; the sky is overcast, but it’s not raining. He’s cold all over, feels wet all over. It should be raining. Water’s on his tongue. There’s a lot of blood in his throat. He needs to focus elsewhere. He’s got a mission to finish.

Right side. Finger. Feint.

The air is thick and heady. He tries to remember what precedes a storm. Ozone: static charge and oxygen; lightning cracking down his clammy spine. It’s cloying but crisp—a dichotomy he can’t make sense of, it just is.

A fat drop trickles from his lash line to nestle in his mouth. A little sweeter than water, but overall neutral.

Huh.

Right side. Finger. Feint.

He’s bleeding from so many places, is mangled and torn in more ways than he can count, so it feels dumb that it stings—one particular pain throbbing louder than the others—when he slicks his tongue over his bottom lip. Blood and dirt, mainly, but with a tacky overtone of sweetness.

He hurts. He hurts; he hurts he hurts he hurts. He can’t give up. Right side; finger; feint. He’s damned near done for, but they aren’t. Their mission isn’t. If he can’t at least buy some time, then what the hell good is he for?

“Finger… Feint…” 

Speaking is harder than he thought. His throat’s lodged—feels and tastes coppery sweet, altogether blocked. Not in a way that makes him panic, weirdly enough. In a way that makes him realize that there’s something there. Something that tastes like nitroglycerin and crackles like ozone. Sweet but crisp. Something not-bloody.

He’s long since lost feeling in his right arm; shot right through pain and arrived at a stage where it’s just. Removed. If you’d have asked him about it now, he would’ve told you he’s always had just three limbs. Three limbs and enough reckless conceit to fill in the space where a fourth would’ve been. It shouldn’t be enough—hasn’t been enough at all. But maybe, just maybe—

“Right side…”

It takes a village to raise an asshole; maybe it can take an asshole to raze a villain.

He is less strength and more spite, willing himself up on his knees. It’s harder than it should be. Not that it matters. What matters is ahead—what matters is the nitroglycerin fizzing in his veins, bubbling up in his throat. It’s different from blood; tastes of water, a little sweeter on the tongue but overall neutral. If he tongues his cheek it’s metallic, but breathing through his mouth tastes watery. It feels safer. It feels natural. He’s ripped up and bleeding, got so much bone mangled and skin open, but he feels more right than he has in a long time.

He hurts, by fuck he hurts, but there’s something more to it—like if he cracked open all of that hurt, cradled in his fingers, he’d discover something altogether new.

Katsuki heaves to his feet. The air is damp with impending rain. His eyes smart with dirt-clumped blood. He counts: right side, fingers, feint. It’s not a lot, but it’s something.

“No, you mustn’t!!”

“Got to win, right Izuku?”

(So, can I still catch up to you, Izuku?)

[jay-avian]

Writing Share Tag

Thank you @rickie-the-storyteller for tagging me here!

This is another short story I wrote for my fiction class, but waited to post until after I edited it. I'd love to get any sort of feedback or suggestions if you have any!

I'm going to tag people above the cut just in case people don't want to read the long post just yet: @fleurtygurl @sleepyowlwrites @willtheweaver @theeccentricraven @lyra-brie and whoever else wants to share their amazing works!

Title: The Black Rose Project (genre: sci-fi horror) (content warning: kidnapping, experimentation [nothing is explicitly mentioned as far as what happens during the processes])

“The Latest in Bioengineering: Aether Lab Revives the Ecosystem”

“In the fast-paced, technology-oriented world we live in today, animal species have been dwindling at a much quicker pace than first estimated. Many species are unable to adapt, leading to their eventual extinction. And when certain species fade out, balance is shifted across the ecosystems. The lack of predators has led to a massive uptick in wild prey numbers…

“Dr. Adam O’Donnell and his team have worked for years to not only revive animal species but revitalize them. Known as the “New Eden Project”, the series of experiments works towards giving the species special genetic traits to navigate the changing world. When asked about the thought process behind the experiments, Dr. O’Donnell commented: “If animals are expected to thrive in this new age, they need to be able to stand their ground, to learn and adapt to new challenges and possible threats.” This revelation makes the future of the ecosystems look bright, but time will surely tell...”

It hadn’t been long before New Eden had taken off in popularity. There was talk everywhere about those “crazy sons o’ bitches” down at Aether. They had done the impossible. Well, I suppose the improbable now. But there hasn’t been news from them for a while now. People are starting to become doubtful. The papers have asked me to try and get some updates. The reporter previously taking on this story had passed away in a car crash about a week ago. Poor Nick could never seem to catch a break. I had only really talked with him in the office, but he was cute. He seemed really passionate about this story too. He would talk with me about the project and all his theories about what they were going to do next.

The project started with just modifying the embryos. Those turned out pretty much fine. The problem is something else. There’s been news and rumors about how they’ve started trying to speed up the process by essentially 3-D printing their monsters. Theoretically, it should work. Technically, it does. They use the same technology that duplicates cells, tissues, and whatnot, but on a much larger scale. After that, give the “corpse” a jumpstart and you’re good to go. But there’s more to it than that. No one can seem to predict how these beasts will act. Empty shells breathing but barely moving. Without any parents or previous experience to guide them, they’re like lost… Well, I hesitate to say souls. You can’t manufacture those. Their brains don’t function like they’re supposed to. Quite frankly, I’m scared to see how they’ll end up fixing this problem.

It’s a Sunday morning when I decide to go. There won’t be many people there, though I don’t think these scientists are exactly a religious bunch. I drive up to the lab and survey the parking lot. There are only five cars besides mine, not including the couple of trucks that belong to the lab itself. The lab isn’t that big overall, only being three stories tall. Its walls are mostly concrete with a few large windows into the first floor cafeteria and the top floors’ offices. I take Nick’s old notebook from the passenger seat and enter through the sliding glass doors into the reception area. The foyer’s floor is an ocean blue, speckled and bright. The desk I walk up to is painted a much lighter blue across the front. The blonde lady sitting at the desk is playing cards with herself.

“Excuse me?” I ask. She looks up at me. She doesn’t look nearly old or stuffy enough to be working here. Probably a student looking for an internship. “Hi, I was wondering if I could take a tour?”

“Sure,” she says. She moves over to her computer. “Could I get your name and who you’re with?”

“My name is Natalie Kostova, and this is just for a class paper. Springfield Tech under Professor Bartram.” My go-to excuse for people who aren’t as willing to talk. Scientists are usually hard to get info out of. Granted, they don’t want others to steal their data, their discoveries, their glory. But vague answers don’t make for an interesting story.

She types at her keyboard. “Okay!” She turns to me, smiling. “You can go ahead and have a seat in the cafeteria. I’ll have someone come up to walk you around.”

I look around and find the big open cafe. The furniture is very modern: plain colors, sleek and curving shapes. A couple of sofas and armchairs are lined near the walls and windows. There’s only one other person sitting at one of the tables eating a sub. I decide to get myself a soda from one of the vending machines before I sit down. While I wait, I flip through Nick’s notes as a refresher. Most of what’s written has been mentioned in the papers already. There’s also a few drawings of some of the experiments. I flip to the next page and there’s another drawing. It’s much more unsettling than the ones before. It’s a bigger dog-looking thing with a toned body. What if? is written and underlined on the next page, followed by bullet points. Super mutants. Guard dogs. War? Just because?

People next?

I hear footsteps in the distance. I slam the notebook shut and look up to find Dr. O’Donnell himself. “Good morning, Ms. Kostova,” he says as he walks up. “Sorry to keep you waiting, I was in the middle of something that needed attention.”

I stand to meet him. “No worries. I understand how important it is to finish something you start. Can’t leave something half done.”

He laughs. “Couldn’t have said it better myself. Now, what’s this about a class paper?”

I straighten up and put on a smile. “Ah, I uh, just wanted to learn more about bioengineering and all of the possibilities.”

“Very well. Let’s get you familiar then, shall we?”

I follow him to the elevator. After we both enter, he presses the button for B1. Turns out, there are five floors in total: the three upper levels I saw, and two lower ones. The door closes and we start going down.

“Why the need for basement floors?” I ask.

“The bottom two floors are where we do most of our bigger projects. The upper floors are mainly offices and smaller labs.”

That seems fair enough, though I hope I’ll still be able to get a signal from down here.

The elevator doors open. Dr. O’Donnell starts walking ahead. We walk down a hall lined with doors and large windows. The first few rooms are filled with large machines. One of the bigger ones looks like a massive 3D-printer. One of the rooms has an MRI scanner and a heart monitor machine. He explains to me the basics of genetic modification. I take down what notes I can just in case. We head towards a set of glass doors that lead back outside. Out here are pathways that lead to enclosures set up almost like a zoo. We walk along and he showcases many of the animals kept here. Many of the predatory animals here seem to have bigger ears and paws, while some seem to be more “streamlined” in their looks. Dr. O’Donnell talks about their behavior and how finicky the animals can get at times.

“We sometimes bring in control groups,” he continues. “So we can get a gauge for the specimens’ mental progress as well as for further assimilation.” He pauses and looks at me. I try to write some more, thinking that’s what he’s expecting. “That’s a nice notebook you have. Where’d you get it?”

“Hm?” I look up. “I, uh, got it from a friend.”

“I see…” He starts fidgeting, rubbing his fingers together.

There’s no way he doesn’t know. “Yeah, it belonged to a classmate of mine. I forgot my bio notes at home and this is what I had in my car.” I should ask him something quick. “Oh, before I forget, I heard on the news that you guys were trying to make animals from scratch? How has that been working out?”

Dr. O’Donnell perks up. “Ah, well, we still haven’t quite gotten their behavior down yet. Instead, we’ve been trying to modify some of our control group specimens in their adult stages.”

“Oh really?” I ask, trying to look interested. “Do you think I could take a look? That sounds really cool!”

“I’m afraid I can’t quite show you that yet. It’s still in its early experimental stages and well, in all honesty, I don’t feel ready enough to showcase them…” He’s rubbing his hands together now, his eyes looking for his thoughts. “Oh, but you’re so eager. I’d hate for you to leave empty-handed. Why don’t I show you something else?”

Something feels off. I take a step back. I ought to wait to have someone else with me. But who knows when I’m going to get another decent chance to find my answers? Nick’s answers? “...Sure. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

I follow him to the elevator. I walk a bit slower and check my phone; it only has one bar of service. “At Aether right now” I text my supervisor. “Might have something big. Send in cameras” Here’s hoping it sends.

We enter the elevator and he presses the button for B2. “What I am about to show you is another larger project I’ve been working on. I call it the Black Rose Project.”

“Is it similar to New Eden?” I ask.

“In a way, yes. The end goal is somewhat similar…” The doors open, but he doesn’t move. “But before I get into specifics, would you like to take a guess at what the black rose means?”

He stops to turn to me. I look at the doctor. He seems genuinely curious, like a teacher wanting to hear their students’ take on a matter. “Doesn’t… Black usually means death, right? Like you’re mourning for someone?”

“It can have that meaning, yes. But there’s also a second meaning to it.” Dr. O’Donnell walks forward into a large room with branching hallways. It reminds me of a hospital office. “You see, when something dies, it can give way to something new. Old leaves die so new ones may appear, old doors close so new ones may open… the old self dies so it may become like new.”

He swipes his card against a scanner. The door opens. He gestures towards the room. I peek my head in first, then ease my way in. There’s a person lying on a cot in the corner. I feel myself freeze up and my heart start beating faster. They’re wearing a hospital gown, or at least something similar.

“Go on,” O’Donnell says. “It’s harmless.”

“What did you do? Who is that?”

“I would imagine you would recognize that “classmate” of yours.”

“W-what?” I take a look at the body’s face. It looks somewhat familiar: the hair, the nose, the cheekbones– I rush over and grab his too-big shoulders. His body has an extremely toned build; it’s not what he used to look like. “Nick? Nick?!”

“Yes, he’s actually alive, despite what you heard of him last week. I made sure you reporters got a false story… As I’ve said before, building from scratch hasn’t exactly been working thus far. I was hoping I didn’t have to work like this, but at this point, discovery requires some sacrifices to be made.”

I hear the door close behind me. I whip around, rush towards the door, and start trying to force it open. “HEY! Let me out!” The voice is faint from the other side. I stop banging at the door and I still can’t make out what he’s saying. Behind me, there’s some soft shuffling.

“...Natalie?”

“Local Reporter “Missing””

“A few days ago, Natalie Kostova, one of our own reporters, went missing after attempting an interview at Aether Labs. She was last heard from by text message asking for cameramen. When they arrived on scene, they were dismissed immediately. Claims were made that Kostova had left minutes before, as evident by her car being absent in the parking lot. Investigations are currently underway, but so far, attempts to search the labs have been unfruitful…”

[green5quirrel]

Ugh. I'm bored.

I'm just gonna write some shit.

It's like "Morning Pages" except circa late 90's early 2000's Livejournal/OpenDiary style. So bear with me.

I've just updated my Bullet Journal. Even typing that makes me cringe. What would 20-something year old me think of a bullet journal? What would 20-something year old I don't fit in any boxes so don't try to put me in one think of writing on grid paper? I mean...it's ALL boxes, isn't it?

But this is my life, now. I write in Bullet Journals. I wear cardigans. I claw my way through the Artist's Way carefully excising the presence of religion. I don't have boobs (or nipples). Let's just say a lot of things have changed in the past two decades.

I go to this amazing little queer coffee house. I use the word "queer" unironically and also use it for myself. I go to this amazing little queer coffee house with its fairies dangling from fishing wire on the ceiling (like, doll fairies not the slur). These plastic folks are mostly Barbie dolls made to look like fairies and sway in the breeze of people walking by amid the lines of faux Edison bulb string lights and pride flag garland.

I go there every Wednesday. I meet up with a bunch of folks (folx? I dunno the current accepted spelling these days) and we do an iteration of Stitch and Bitch. Today I worked on my fanfiction.

After I left the café I went to an Ace Hardware store. I went there because I am an adult and uncool and also because I am working to get into clock repair as a hobby and had been there last week to pick up some tools that were not clock specific.

I met a 61 year old man called Bill there last week. He excitedly chatted to me about the clocks he'd inherited and sold and those he had kept. He has a mantel clock and wanted me to take a look at it. I declined. And I declined again after he insisted. I've not even cracked open a clock and taken out a movement. There's no way I'm working on a family heirloom.

He'll show me the picture of the clock next week as he wasn't able to get over there to take it on account of it being someone's birthday (his business partner's?). Bill shares his life like a person shares Halloween candy in a big plastic bowl on the first of November.

He likes my name. But he still refers to me as a girl. But he also treats me like he's excited to see me even though we've only met twice.

Bill once got paid a few thousand dollars to do some landscaping for a rich person and a few hundred to put in a tree. So, yeah, I consider those two things like tootsie rolls. The chocolate bars are when he talks about his family and how he supports them and his childhood in a watch shop with his dad while a parade of circus animals passes by.

At any rate, after I talked to Bill I went to an antique's mall nearby and scoured the shelves for anything that would be beneficial to my clock repair goals. I didn't find anything today, but that's okay. I'll go back in a couple of weeks.

I am struggling a little right now. So lemme give you all some quality Halloween candy, if you don't mind.

In 2020 my mom died of liver cancer. I had moved back to my hometown to help her and when she started to decline I decided that as soon as she had passed and I had come to terms with it I would move on and explore my options of where to live next.

In 2020 there weren't any options. There continued to not be options for a while after that. Now, as time has finally started to even out and pass like it's supposed to pass, instead of the slow/fast/manic/depressive pace it went through during the pandemic, I am suddenly left with possibility. And that is scary.

I have a partner in Canada who works in Michigan. So there is a thought to move there. But I'm not sure how my mood will go with the rain and cold. Still, Michigan seems safer than here below the Mason Dixon line.

Currently, in this moment, I am struggling not only with motivation and courage but also with working retail when my brain wants anything but to work in the toxic environment of the needy and the entitled.

I have no energy to be creative and my clock repair hobby is also crawling because of that lack of energy. I don't know how I used to do it. How did I sustain myself while expending so much time and energy on a job like this? It wasn't drugs. I wasn't cool enough for that. It must've been joy to some degree. Youth, certainly. Perhaps hope. Perhaps ignorance/naivety. Whatever it was I definitely don't have it anymore.

Was this meant to be an entry to whine in? No. It wasn't meant to be anything. It wasn't meant to be pithy or amusing or witty or motivational. It was meant to be an entry for boredom and reflect. So there it is. I've done it. I've succeeded.

Now to sacrifice myself to the fatigue that has been insisting on attention for an hour now and draw myself a warm blanket to lie in and drown in my dreams.

[thepete77]

Energy of the human mind is a wiley fucking bitch…. I have some views of some very fucking basics that I feel can't be denied because of simple goddamned existence. People have highs and people have lows, different people maintain on different levels. If you follow the normal standards of life and do your shit the way you do, and always are on a slope and in a rut, maybe the shrinks have a fucking point about some meds to help the process. This is how it was for me when I tried to follow the fucking rules people said to follow. I worked for my cash, paid my way for education, didn't apply for welfare, even worked two jobs and full-time several times… I was trying the Christian shit out at the time, and was going to church and studies three times a week, lived with Christians, didn't smoke or drink, and followed the entertainment rules with discretionary practices, I even put effort into personal prayer and study, and contemplated life and shit, but I was depressed as fuck. I cried for help with false suicide attempts four different times, wound up at the hospital, and lived in fear of separating from the cocksuckers because of eternal salvation and “fellowship” rules of faith. I was unable to admit the shit that what I was doing was just not the right way, and was in a very severe goddamned rut. The psychotic episode came and I was asked to leave. All the effort of attendance denied and they were all the narcissistic bastard sycophantic fucks who all their former compliments and invitations of me to hang out with them were false ploys as some type of charitable feel bad circumstance for a homeless person.

I veiled my depression and sadness with an empty smile and typical what's up and how's it going standard statements without any feeling in them at all, there was no connection of friendship to top off the empty and false promises of having faith in salvation and going to church and socializing and “befriending” the parasites up until the event of my termination of attendance.

I was maintaining on very minimal poverty levels, trying to focus on normalcy, watching basic tv channels and catching news, ufc, adult swim, comedy central, madtv, just the standard that I could deal with as normal. But I never felt it and felt psycho as fuck. I'm still recuperating about this. This was before iPhones hit; when tracphone was still a thing. This was before social media to have connections otherwise. Before android and netbooks, before google got big and before Amazon hit. Back when DVDs were the newest phenomenon and Xbox just came out. Windows was still at ME and 2000, and myspace was still active, and during the time they updated the standard TV antenna.

Needless to say I wasn't in a good spot. I was fucked. I really had some psychotic attachment dysfunctions about this view of eternal life, the way Christians always said it fucking was. John 3:16 was the trend, god so loved the world he gave his only son, etc… you're supposed to repent get baptized and witness the word, fucking represent. But I had been terminated from affiliation, and people could care less if I burned in hell, and didn't see me as an impact in functional ministry, and could see I was going psychotic and a third fucking wheel at every social event.. Severely fucking betrayed by the cocksucker posers. After being away for the last twelve years from the Christian parasites, I'm hella more stable now to even be able to reveal these interpersonal focuses with this level of confidence that I was very introverted and timid about before, and not so nearly positive in introspection.

But back to the fucking point, mental and emotional chemistry has its place. They're never magic pills that solve all the problems, they're an aid to the process. I've focused on nutritional stabilization and brain chemistry, and have focused on this faith crisis of mine about how to even believe anything what I truly fucking believe. It's a collaboration of events that have transpired to this point. And if I can fucking help it, I want to help someone who might be at the worst, in similar conditions wondering why the fuck these stories of changes for other people work, and why they burn in hell, and are left in the dust. A sad story of earth is that the universe really doesn't gift a fuck and good people get fucked over when they don't deserve it. It's just life.

[door430]

In short, mis/uninformed counselors are the WORST to talk to

Gonna vent here, so probably Don't read if you're in a bad headspace, and also don't read if you hate reading, because this is a long, long, long post. Specific CW: discussion of fusion and dormancy in plurality/DID

Okay, SO. Recently, I've begun seeing a new therapist (he's great btw, he's not the one I'm venting about). Thing is, he wanted me to have an updated psych eval done at the place he is working at. Which, okay, I guess it's good to stay on top of potentially relevant issues, so I agreed to do it.

A week later, I walk into the eval, and I say to myself, "Oh, no, it's this bitch."

Bit of backstory: I've been evaluated at this place before. Now, I say "evaluated", but really, they just put me in a room with this counselor, gave me two hours to talk about my difficulties and traumas, and sent me on my way. Now, I'm no therapist, but I've had a previous evaluation elsewhere and I've heard enough about them that I... don't think that's how they're supposed to be done usually. But hey, I could be wrong.

They diagnosed me with some things that I expected... and then I read the diagnosis of schizotypal personality disorder. A disorder caused by "magical thinking" that may cause difficulty in interacting with people and the world. And I go, "What the fuck," because if I have magical thinking, it's certainly news to me, my mom, my dad, and EVERYONE I HAVE EVER SPOKEN TO SINCE THE DAWN OF TIME. And she goes "Yeah, I didn't really know what to diagnose you with, so me and my colleague just kinda threw you under this one" (which also effectively cancels out my autism diagnosis, one I am pretty sure is accurate. thank you, (counselor).)

End of backstory!

Now, I obviously knew this would go badly, just based on past experience. But I wasn't prepared for how badly.

For years now, I have theorized that I am plural in some way. There seems to be distinct and separate states of consciousness that exist within my brain. Each of us have our own names, opinions, internal appearance, internal and external voices, and sometimes memories. I have no idea if my plurality is disordered, or what disorder it would fit under, but I'm 99% sure we are plural.

The eval goes okay at first, just the usual questions about self-confidence and anxiety. And then she brings up the "others" that I had told her about in the last eval.

I go, "oh, yeah, that's developed a lot since last time. We've discovered (number) distinct identities"

and she goes "hmm... do you think you have Dissociative Identity Disorder?"

My heart drops. if you've ever had a doctor or therapist ask you something like this before, you probably know the feeling. I'd just been handed a metaphorical gun, and the only targets are my left foot and my right.

Of course, to hopefully soften the blow, I say, "I think it's a possibility".

She explains how DID is formed, which yeah, I knew that, but I'd rather not risk her taking that as a personal insult. And she says that the goal for treatment is to merge the parts into one.

Everything internally descends into chaos. Many of us are very scared of the prospect of fusing, especially the younger ones. Personally, I could care less whether I ever fuse with another headmate or not, but I'm not keen on forcing the solution upon anyone unwilling.

I bring up the idea of functional multiplicity to her, and she goes "but why can't you just be one person?"

Palm, meet face.

She continues insisting upon the idea that any type of multiplicity is a disorder that must be "fixed", and I continue to raise the question, how is plurality inherently bad? Of course, she does not listen or answer my question, because all hail the mighty therapist who knows all.

(She also ended up influencing my mom into believing plurality is inherently bad, and now my mom thinks I can't live in the real world unless I fuse. Thank you, (counselor) and mother.)

Multiple headmates, including me, had a breakdown after the appointment (which was only an hour long, which, again, I'm not a therapist, but I don't think that's enough time to do a psych eval) to the point where one considered putting himself in PERMANENT DORMANCY so he wouldn't have to deal with this and we wouldn't have to deal with him (dw, he's still here and doing much better)

Anyway, how was your Halloween? /lh

[ericleo108]

03/17/2023 Click here for Spotify or Apple Music. This is my 35th official release and honestly it comes too soon. I feel like I have enough work to justify this song but I don’t have the clout. By that I mean this track is the start of me talking about the rap game and making songs about other rappers. This is the precursor for “what now” which is an EP that drops April 14th.

“Breaking Bad” is an homage to Eminem and Dr Dre. I don’t know when Marshall will hear this. I think his fans will really like it. It’s basically a tribute to his discography. If you know Eminem’s work you’ll hear it. It gives reference to many of Marshall’s songs while giving my own perspective and the breaking bad theme. I wanted to make the song with a popular media reference that we both enjoy and goes with Em and Dre’s construct. The truth is I’ve listened to Marshall since grade school and probably know his discography better than any other artist. By consequence I “take” allot from him.

The first verse is to introduce why I’m doing this. My old artist name is Apollo. I’ve talked about it before on this blog but here is a link to the Edulution album. The hook is basically asking for a co-sign/ advance but the truth is It’s meant to be standoffish. Honestly I hope this will act as an application to be in the shady aftermath camp but I just wanted to make a track about the best duo in the game. I wanna go to shade 45 just to introduce myself, drop a nice letter and let them know it’s all love. Don’t come for me Marshall.

I’m not sexually attached to Marshall but in the song I wanted to create a type of Stan hysteria in the third verse for Marshall. It’s intentionally supposed to be fanatical so it makes Marshall think twice while being funny. “Pussy Poppin” is written and will probably come out next year along with “ scrumptious” (which is a working title). But I just wanted to point out that I sexualized my male peers before I did it to women. 

The vocals were recorded at Crack Horse Recording in Lansing Michigan by TheyCallMeHeat. The track was mixed and mastered by Sam Peters at La Luna recording studio in Kalamazoo Michigan. The Beat is by tantubeats.com. The cover art was made by ArtworkGang from Fiverr. You can stream or download the track wherever music is sold. Thank you for your support. Be sure to follow because new music is released every week!

You can see me talk about this blog post and next week's release from the last Sunday Update

Lyrics:

I just want everyone to know that Marshall Mathers is my daddy They call me Apollo on the mic, and I’m so happy That Marshall wants to be Zeus cuz in greek mythology  Apollo was his son, and I’ll tell you what there ain’t no stop’n me When I was a little kid I dyed my hair like Eminem did  Blond top, suns hot, gunshots nonstop Listen to D12 one shot two shot Come’n from my bed room, feelin like 2Pac But I was just a white kid, scrawny and always honoree And I was one of the privileged kids, there was really nothing wrong with me But I found “Brain Damage,” and “As the World Turns” And was like “If I had a” million dollars I’d buy a fuckin purse Tuck my dick into my legs, cluck, and give birth  Be like all of these chickens that can’t rewrite his verse Reimagine the page using his words Cadence and slurs like were go’n berzerk (Hey Em) If I like what you written, you might get bitten It’s despicable, like Daffy Duck when I’m spittin  I’m here to keep Shady and Dre from feelin That Shady’s not here to save the children

Come on dawg, give it a chance What would it take, to make you advance Cuz I know you aren’t afraid, to take a stan Let me give you a little motivation to do what you can You can’t break bad without a chemist I am the one who knocks at the door of your business I’m a rider for the sound and hits, a writer and a scientist Like Jesse with it, cuz it’s time for science bitch

I remember get’n high in highschool listen’n to “Rain Man” For the first time, think’n we was brain dead High as a kite smoke’n listen to “Kim” Think’n “Is it gay to touch another man’s ass with your fist?” We met Brady, gotta guilty conscious Bought into the metaphors, melodies, constructs Love watch’n Em go off on the mic And hearin what beat Dr. Dre had derived Learned how to square dance (square dance with me)  and get down to business  How we ain’t got no time to play around, what is this  Say goodbye to Hollywood, cuz my dad’s gone crazy Would you please stand up for the real slim shady I think we’re approaching an age of the gross Just another episode on the yellow brick road If you’re proud to be out of my mind and out of control One more time, you know how it goes

Come on dawg, give it a chance What would it take, to make you advance Cuz I know you aren’t afraid, to take a stan Let me give you a little motivation to do what you can You can’t break bad without a chemist I am the one who knocks at the door of your business I’m a rider for the sound and hits, a writer and a scientist Like Jesse with it, cuz it’s time for science bitch

I wanna say this shit right now while this fuck’n weed is in me I love you dawg, now let’s go make history  I could’a wrote a diss to see if you’d respond offensively Rather be a friend to me, don’t make me your enemy Cuz you know my Machiavelli  He lives on in the intelligently  Crafted written legibly  Poetry that I’m leveraging  I’m ball’n like Pluto Ya Gaia and Blue know Wit your cool flow I’ve fall’n for you, like Bruno And wanna suck Shady’s dick, like Ken Kaniff Get it back from Shaggy, while he’s take’n a shit That’s right pumpkin, you woke up to a blumpkin I wanna share the world with you and all your fuck shit (Marshall)  I bet your more afraid to love another man Take him by the hand, and make him understand (I love you) I love you Marshall, it don’t gotta be like this  We could run away together back where Dr. Dre lives

Come on dawg, give it a chance What would it take, to make you advance Cuz I know you aren’t afraid, to take a stan Let me give you a little motivation to do what you can You can’t break bad without a chemist I am the one who knocks at the door of your business I’m a rider for the sound and hits, a writer and a scientist Like Jesse with it, cuz it’s time for science bitch

[writingcold]

Neapolitan Pt. 12

A/N:  Well, hello there.  Welcome to the last part of Neapolitan.  Yup - finally the end of this brick.  There are two Jake blurbs and a lot of story to wrap up.  So, let’s finish this bitch.

The last time I’ve got to say this, I do not know any of the gentlemen of GVF.  This is a piece of fiction, through and through.  Jake is just my blueprint to a very interesting character to me.  A muse if you will. 

Content Warnings: Saying goodbye is hard to do, angsty, adult situations, partying, you know it.  Mentions of sex, along with a nice shower scene.

Word Count: approx. 8700 words, can you believe this whole story is just shy of 69K words.  I almost want to see if I can add that 300 words that I’m short just to be gross about it.

Thank you for hanging in there through all of it.  Let me know what you think, please and thank you.

Pt. 12

     Returning to work had not been the best idea.  Everything was for shit.  It was chaos at the golf course.  Even though Violet had a schedule in place for the entire time she was off, there were three of the shop clerks that quit, and two of the caddies did not bother to show up aside from collecting their last checks.  The event planner had double booked a wedding and a birthday party that left absolute chaos behind for the crew.  At LPs, Tony had the schedule so messed up that Tom quit, and Bonnie only wanted one day a week - Thursdays.  He was trying like mad to cover what he could, and patchwork people together, but she could tell that he was ready to call it quits and join her dad in golfing and fishing.  It hurt to tell him that she was leaving, but like the second dad that he was for her, they celebrated instead.  He asked for only one week of her time, not two.  The owner of the course only asked that she train Emmy in her job - which took all of three days.  Violet supposed the courtesy was extended to her since these were places where she was considered family.  Jobs she had grown up with and returned to when she needed their shelter.

     When she talked to her parents about her news, her dad asked about Jake, much to her mother’s surprise.  Violet smiled and said nothing, much to her mother’s surprise.  Her heart flipped at how her father had pressed that button, leaving her brain to wonder what exactly had been said during that round of golf.  They were happy for her and had to go out for celebration drinks.  The guys had dropped into LP’s on Friday, with Jess in tow to a very crowded bar.  She spun Jess around as the boys bowled.  She was leaving Saturday afternoon from Grand Rapids to return to Nashville.

     “Violet, you promise me here and now,”  she said, drunk off her ass.  “You promise me that we’ll see you again, okay?  I mean, seriously.  You belong to us.  I mean, you belong to us.  I … shit. You know what I mean.”

     Violet laughed at her as Sam tried to peel the woman off the bar as they were trying to leave.  Jake stayed behind to go home with her.  Her brain, over the course of the past week, had been very pleased with her human.  Her heart was in silent protest, but her brain was happy that Violet was keeping her shit at bay.

     She had one week.  They would be leaving on the following Tuesday.  The guys were working hard, coming up for air only when absolutely necessary.  Violet had started to close down her house a room at a time.  Her folks would check on it weekly during her time away.  Her passport was current, thankfully.  She had sore ass arms and thighs from updating her shots.  She was in contact with the new boss a few times on her progress of getting ready and catching up on the current standards and practices that she would be expected to follow.  

      Jake was hers every night.  It may be only for a few hours, but he was hers.  Somehow, the war going on between her heart and brain had turned a brutal corner with the brain doubling down on the whole logical approach and underplaying anything that the heart was trying to lead her to realize.  At some point the brain said that the heart was only basing her whole theory of ‘love’ on sex.  To which her cunt pointed at Jake and said she could not be blamed that the man was a genius in her department.  With that argument, Violet had seriously debated her level of crazy.

      Friday night, Jake asked if she would be able to be with them the whole day on Sunday.  They were going to have time on the water, as well as try to take in the trail behind the house one last time, maybe clean out the fridge as much as possible…  She agreed, but only if they would all be over to her house in the evening on Monday - their last night.  She could feed everyone and just relax.

     Sunday, Violet was to their place early, wearing the tiny black bikini that Jake loved.  She had brought a cooler of beer while they supplied food and more libations.  In a repeat of nearly eight weeks prior, she found herself on the massive raft with Josh, snuggled into his side because where else is a girl supposed to go when that man was around?  He was humming softly against her hair while Sam, Danny and Jake were in competition over how far out they could go in the deep water.

     “The lovely Jessie and I had quite the conversation before she left,”  he started, breaking her out of her void.

     Violet tried to act normal.  She was pretty sure where Josh was heading.  “Yeah…?”

     “She’s blossomed into quite the outspoken lass since you came around.  I mean, she could be tough before, but now, just damn.  She’s got poor Sammy coming and going,”  he laughed.  “She’s particularly outspoken when it comes to you.  She’s very protective of you.”

     “Well.  She is pretty great.  I’m happy to call her my platonic girlfriend.”

     “She’s under the impression that there’s more than just animalistic driven sex going on between you and Jake.”  She laughed against his warm skin.  His hands tightened on her.  He was quiet for more than a few moments.  “I think she’s right.”

     Her eyes drifted closed.  Her heart did a triple double with a flirty bow at the end.  Her brain stuck her tongue out.  “Josh,”  she whispered.

     “I know it was not being looked for by either one of you.  You, especially, were not looking for this.  I don’t know what happened, but…  You make him happier than he has been - ever.”

      To one up the ante, her heart pirouetted around her brain before flipping off her imaginary middle fingers.  Violet sighed, rising up on her elbow to look down at Josh.  “He makes me happy, too.  I think you’ve seen that.  We’ve made no secret of that.”

     He shook his head, his mouth in a fine line.  “So, why the time limit?”

     “It was to protect us both,” she answered.

     “Bullshit.”

     Violet felt her stomach lurch as Josh’s firm tone let her know that there was no point in sugar coating it.  “I did it to protect me.  I was not in the same place as I was even a few weeks ago.  I was serious when I said that Jake was all I could handle.  But I knew that you all were something special and needed a way that I would be able to remain friends with you.  And I mean friends with all of you, including Jake.”

     “Jessie was right - you belong with us.”

     “Aw, you mean not ‘to’ you?”

     He laughed one of his big belly laughs that set her back to right.  “God you got her so smashed.  Poor baby was probably hung over for days.”

     They fell into quiet once more.  Violet looked around for Jake, finding them way up the beach, sprawled out like they had raced to shore.  Her insides ached just watching him, playing around with his brothers.  

     “You’re going to break my brother’s heart, aren’t you?”

     She took in a soft breath in an attempt to not cry.  “I would shatter my own before I hurt him.”

     Her brain released a stream of obscenities directed at her heart, cunt and every other organ that was trying to mutiny to get in the Jake lane, while her heart was reading Violet’s words over again, pointing out that she would take the hurt over harming him.  Wasn’t that love?

     “Vi, there’s got to be a way through this.  Give him a chance.  He may just surprise you.”

     “I’ve got too much damage to deal with,”  she admitted, her voice thin and catching as her throat fought the words.  “I will not give the bastard the satisfaction of putting a mark on what makes me happy with Jake.”

     “Oh, sweet girl,”  Josh whispered against her cheek as he pulled her back down.  

     The afternoon found her hiking.  Sam was nonstop talk, pointing out things of interest and things of his own imagination.  He tried to convince her to step into the magical realm of pink fluid that heals all.  She swatted at him and said that she was telling Jessie on him for trying to trick her into walking through poison ivy.  

     The evening swirled around in a haze of music and food and cooking and booze.  Jake brought up his acoustic and Danny accompanied him on a mandolin while they cooked on the grill.  Sam and Violet were working in the kitchen on sides while Josh danced around, singing songs that no one really understood.  Looking out onto the deck, she was just caught up in how Jake’s smile tugged at the rest of his face in such a way that he just radiated light.  The laughter he shared with Danny left her feeling bruised at its soft beauty.  

     Sam bent to press his chin over the crown of her head, snaking his arms across her shoulders.  “You okay?”  he asked.  

     “No,”  she whispered.  “It’s going to hurt like hell to see you all leave.”

     Sam held onto her for a long while.  Jake caught her looking, and his face grew still.  She felt her insides constrict.  The connection that he had cast upon her was yanking her, forcibly, to him.  Her heart was a beggar in her chest, weeping at her to find relief in his touch.  

     “Oh, that reminds me,”  Sam practically shouted as he evaporated from her.  “We have something for you that I think you’ll love!”

     “Are we doing this now?”  Josh asked, semi annoyed as he waved at the other two.  “You know, dinner’s gonna burn, and just… what a waste…  and another thing… why aren’t they looking this way?  Goddamn, why don’t they ever pay attention to me?”

      Violet felt the mix of needing to cry and laugh boil within her.  Josh could turn on Peepaw without notice, sending her into hysterics.  Tonight, however, it made her want to bawl.  Everything was happening so quickly that she just was not ready for these men to drift back out of her daily life the same way they had drifted in.  Josh was at the door, snapping his fingers at Jake and Danny who just flipped him off until they saw Sam carry in this huge card looking thing with a smile that would kill off a small county of Sammy girls.  

     “I thought we were going to save this until tomorrow night,”  Jake said, his voice tight.

     “She needs this now,”  Sam responded, setting it down on the kitchen island.

     “Just give me a minute,”  Danny said with his hands raised.

     He went back out and pulled everything that was on the grill off.  Jake helped him cross through the door with the mammoth sized tray of food before he turned back to her, his eyes searching her face.

     There was a huge bow across the front of the gift that she tugged at.  “You guys did not need to do this.”

     She felt Jake’s hand press into the small of her back as she pulled back the fancy wrapping paper to reveal a ‘card’ that was made of two poster boards.  The front was a drawn picture of the woods beyond their deck with Josh’s name scrawled down in the bottom corner.  Sam helped her open it to reveal pictures of their time together.  There was a picture of Sam and her debating fiercely at the bar, while another one was Danny winning the night’s bowling.  There was a picture of her and Josh out on the raft.  Another featured Josh and Max dancing around the bonfire like they were insane pyromaniacs.  There was one with Jake standing with Ollie and John.  There was another of all four of them sitting at the fire pit with Violet walking away.  They all had the goofiest faces possible that made her laugh.

     On the opposite side, there was a picture of Jess and Sam waving with happy smiles.  Danny carrying his golf clubs hugged a corner.  Josh was posing in a feral god like manner in the center picture.  Towards the bottom, there was one that stood out, made all the more-so with a thick marker drawn border around it.  In the picture, they were dancing close to each other.  Jake was wearing a look of adoration that made her feel like he had tied a rope around her waist to keep her from flying away.  Her heart whipped out a ball ping hammer and a big ass foam pointing finger and screamed at the picture as evidence.  

     Her fingertips flew to her mouth as Jake pulled her in close to his side.  “You fuckers totally planned this.”

     They laughed as tears welled up in her eyes.  Josh turned it to the back to reveal more artwork.  He pointed out his ‘doodle’ piece that went with the cover with grand flair.  It was a lovely picture of a field of violets and other wildflowers.  She noticed a piece of paper that had nothing on it.  She reached for it, flipping it up along the taped edge to reveal a pencil drawing of her.  Jake’s name was down at the bottom corner.  A nervous laugh bubbled out of her as tears hit her cheeks.  The guys cheered like it was mission accomplished, while Jake kissed her hairline.  Sam had his phone out and was taking a picture of her to text back to Jessie.  

     “Hey - food’s getting cold,”  Danny called out trying to maneuver people around.

     They took their plates down to the fire pit.  Jake sat close, but seemed distracted.  Josh was telling stories in his typical loud fashion, while Sam struggled to get words in when he could.  Danny just laughed at them all for the dumbasses that they were.  Violet and Jake quietly cleaned up the kitchen, allowing for some time away from the group.  She moved back to her ‘card’ on the island to take in more of what she knew she missed the first time around.

     “It’s how I see you,”  Jake said quietly from the sink.

     Violet looked over at him.  He was looking out the window, the last of the sunshine was streaming through on him making him look golden.  “It’s beautiful.”

     “You are,”  he said, still not looking at her.  “I think we need to really talk, Violet.”

     Her heart sat up at attention with a ‘yes, sir!’ flair.  Her brain stood back, arms crossed and skeptical.  “Do you want to go back to my place?”

     He nodded, his mouth pursed like he had more to say but was holding back.  They finished with the kitchen.  Violet  stepped out on the deck to find Josh dancing around the fire like no one was watching, while Danny and Sam were off in the field taking pictures.

     From behind her, Jake let out a booming “HEY!”  Violet watched as three sets of eyes turned towards them.  She waved and blew them kisses.  Jake held up keys to one of the vehicles and they all gave him a thumbs up.  

     “I’ll be right behind you,”  he said, helping her to get her card into the truck.

     She smiled as he closed her door, before reaching back in and touching her cheek.  She took off down the road, passing LP’s with a glance.  She was going to have to stop and talk with Tony before she left in a few weeks.  The man was a saint and did not know what he had done for her for a year.  She kept checking her rearview for Jake, but he was nowhere in sight.  Getting home, she sat for a moment before getting out and wrangling the card into the house.  She spread it out across the dining table, looking once more into the memories that they picked to cherish.  Turning it to the back, she pulled the heavy paper of Jake’s drawing away, carefully removing the tape that had held it into place.  Turning the overhead light on, she took time to really look.  The woman in the picture was strong with a fierceness in her eyes and a smile that was flirty, but her hands looked gentle, graceful.  Her heart pounded against her ribs.  If this was how he saw her…

     Violet heard the car pull into the driveway before the lights cut across the windows.  She set the picture down before going out to the deck to meet him.   She leaned against the rail as he strolled up.  He took her hand, pulled her flush against him and kissed her deeply.  Her brain was waving red flags of warning, but her heart said to fuck off and just enjoy the moment.  He continued to hold her close.

     “Do you want a drink or anything?”  she asked as he traced the ridge of her cheek.

     “No, thank you.  I need to be clear at the moment,”  he said before kissing her once more.

     Her brain took note of the comment with a reluctant nod.  Her heart was bouncing and clapping.  Violet felt his arms loosen before he took her hand in his, looking at the deck chairs and motioning towards what had become their spot.  

     “Funny that we are here where this all started,”  he said with a smile. 

     She settled back against his side.  His fingers skimmed back and forth along the length of her arm.  She breathed him in, smelling the sunshine and feeling the summer day waning from his skin.

     “Why is talking about emotions so damn hard,”  he started, then paused.  “I feel like it’s like the weirdness of starting to talk about sex.”

     She smiled, seeing his parallel to their talk seven weeks prior.  She felt her heart begin to slosh around while her brain was giving her the stink eye.

     “At the risk of sounding sappy,”  he continued, lifting her chin to look into her eyes, “I care too much about you for this to end here.  I’m thinking that you may be feeling the same.”

     He skirted the weighted word that her heart was waving around like a picket sign.  ‘Care’ was just as fragile, but manageable.  Her brain stepped in, pushing her heart back into place.

     “What if it’s only because of sex?” she asked, while her brain glared at her for using such a tiny voice.

     Jake stayed quiet.  She felt his chest rise and fall.  She could feel his pulse beneath her cheek.  He was thinking it through, almost like he was arranging and rearranging his words.

     “I have been known to be an asshole about this shit in the past.  But you already know that without me having to say it.”  She tightened her hold on him, becoming very aware she was going to leave scars on the inside of her bottom lip.  “Honestly, that’s not how I can be with you.  You make me want and look for more every damn time I’m with you, not just when we’re having sex.  That’s how I know it’s something more.”

     Violet’s stomach flopped in conjunction with her heart.  Even her brain grudgingly nodded with his reasoning.  However, her brain was also pointing to her watch.  They set boundaries for a reason.

     “There’s so much more damage in me, Jake, that I need to deal with,”  she whispered, her voice wobbling.

     He snorted a soft breath.  “Jess told me that you hoped to see Danny awaken.  You know what I think?  I think we’ve all been watching your awakening this whole time without knowing it, Violet.”

     She sniffed.  The emotion was too raw to contain.  He saw her when she was trying to hide from herself.  Her breath became jagged as he smoothed her hair.

     “Goddamn, I don’t want to do this to you.  You do not deserve to have my shit in the way,”  she managed, her voice strangled.  

     “Stop,”  he said firmly.

     “No.  I’m not willing to put this on you.”

     His eyes narrowed as he pulled away from her.  “I am smart enough to understand that I cannot fix this for you.  But — but, I can say that I want to be that person that can share the burden while you heal.”

     Her heart quieted as her brain was writing down notes.  This man.  This fucking man.

     “I, by no means, understand what the hell has been done to you, or what the fuck was wrong with that man.”  He paused, his mouth in a hard line.  She could feel the heat of his anger on his skin.  “I have my own shit that I need to deal with.  I am not without my own baggage, Violet.  My own flaws are many.  I’m difficult, selfish, and moody.  I can bruise easily and not listen when I need to.  And that’s just to start.”

     Her brain looked up at her through her lashes while her heart wore the biggest cheese.  She released a soft breath.  This fucking man was willing to fight her for her.

     “I like the fact that I want to see you smile and hear your laugh every minute I can.  I like your ideas and the way you can talk to everyone you come in contact with without hesitation.  Hell, I fucking loved watching you stand up for yourself in such a ballsy manner to your friend.  You stood up for Danny like a goddamned hellcat when the rest of us felt it was not our place.”

     Her brain and heart were holding onto each other, tears pooling around them. Violet felt her face wet with her own tears.  Somehow, she forced herself to breathe.  She made herself look into Jake’s face, finding the emotion had gotten to him as well, turning his eyes into liquid chocolate.  

     She could not stop the sob that erupted from her.  He cupped her cheek, not bothering to stop his own show of emotion.  Happy or sad, laughing or singing or shouting or just breathing - he was beautiful.  He could be hers.  Her brain glared at her while her heart flipped her off.

     Violet swallowed hard.  “I need these six months.  I’ve worked so hard to get to this point.  This job has been the reason I do what I do.”

     “Fuck.  I would never ask you to set that aside,”  he said, looking her directly in her eyes.

     Nodding, she sucked in a breath.  “I need these six months.  I know what I feel.  I just need…  I need the time, the distance to put myself back together.  To fully realize that this is real.”

     Jake tightened his hold on her, pressing his mouth to her brow.  She felt her eyes close softly as her body relaxed into him.  Violet felt like she could stay there on the deck, listening to the drum of his heart and everything would be all right.

***

Jake’s POV

     As was promised, Monday night found them all together at Violet’s.  Jake sat on the deck, watching the four play cornhole.  Violet was kicking ass with Danny, much to the dissatisfaction of Sam.  Josh was watching dragonflies as their baby brother obnoxiously argued about everything that he could get away with.  The evening sun would catch in her hair, turning her crown into fire as Violet bounced and dashed around.  It was obvious that her spirit was lighter than when he had first tripped across her.  Jake knew his own spirit had been transformed - shaking off the selfishness and self-centeredness that he had worn for entirely too long.

     Danny tossed the winning point, to which he lifted Violet across his shoulder, running away as the other two peeled after them in mock anger.  Jake laughed as she squealed in absolute joy.  Jessie was right.  Even if the worst happened and Violet decided she could never be with him as his partner, she belonged with them as part of their family.  She lit from within a kinship that just drew them all to her.  It was a beautiful thing to witness and be a part of.

     Jake caught Josh’s eye as a tug of pain fluttered across his chest.  He could not fully comprehend the reason why there had to be pain within such a happy moment - one that he wanted to treasure.  He cursed the twin sense thing - it was not the time to have Josh hovering over him.

     Turning his attention back to the grill, he tossed on Sam’s fake dogs as he turned the rest of the meal.  Her hand ghosted across his shoulder as she hid behind him as the others sprinted past on the lawn.  Jake listened to her soft intake and release of breath as she tried to regulate, not unlike how she sounded after he had just sent her out of orbit.  He grinned as her head pressed in between his shoulder blades.

     “Hey, gorgeous,”  he whispered.  “You good?”

     She dragged in one more breath.  “It’s like playing with little kids.  I’ve not had enough beer for this shit.”

     He grinned as he felt her mouth plant a kiss to the nape of his neck before stepping away from him.  He wanted to whine over the sudden loss of touch.  He glanced over his shoulder as she let out a shriek.  Sam was dragging her off the deck and back into the fray.  Somewhere on the other side of the house, he heard Josh’s maniacal cackle.  Puffing out his cheeks, he decided it was time to rein them in before-

     “You fucking dumbass!”  Sam belted out.

     He debated returning to the grill and staying out of it, but then remembered that Violet was last in Sam’s hands.  Whatever happened to him, happened to her.  Rounding the corner, he froze at the sudden silence.  Four pairs of eyes rolled up at him.  Sam and Violet were in a tangle of limbs, covered in mud.  Josh was some distance away, hose in hand, mud up to his thighs, feral gleam on his face like he’d hose anyone that came close.  Danny was trying to help Violet up and seemed like he was just trying to sort the shit out.  

      “Remind me to send Mom and Dad a long assed apology - I think I fucking get it,”  he rumbled as he grabbed hold of Violet’s hand and tugged her up.  “You two can fucking use the hose to clean up and have damned shrinky dinks for a week from that well water.  Fucking toddlers.”  

      He helped her onto the deck as she started laughing and seemed unable to stop.  Jake grabbed towels from the downstairs bathroom as she made her way up to clean off.  “Hey, Danny - get on this grill.  Those two get the burnt shit.”

      “Got it, Jake.”

      He  climbed the stairs, listening to her laughing.  He closed and locked the bedroom door as he sat down on the small chair by the bathroom door.  She was moving around, turning the shower on to make it easier to get the mud out of her hair.  

      “Hey,”  he said softly, just loud enough for her to hear.  “May I come in?”

      There was a long pause.  Long enough for him to be concerned that she was going to say no.  He turned his chin down to listen at the door better.

      “Only if you plan on fucking me, Jacob,”  she answered, her tone wicked.

      He felt the corner of his mouth stretch.  He undressed quickly before stepping into the small bathroom.  She was already under the water, hands in her hair.  He took a moment to appreciate her form, her curves and lines and everything.  Reaching for her hip, he was already growing hard for her.  She smiled, eyes closed as he pressed himself against her.

      The soft breath from her as she leaned into him was like a miracle.  His whole body sparked for her, needed her, wanted her.  One hand cupped her ass, while the other palmed her breast.  She reached for his face, bringing him in for a kiss that had him moaning into her mouth.  He slid his hand under her thigh and lifted it so that he could push his way in.  His eyes squeezed tight as her heat shot through his body.  He looked into her face, seeing the color swirl in her eyes, mixing with desire and emotion and lust as her jaw relaxed.  Her lips parted, letting out a sigh that etched itself on his skin.  Her fingernails dug into his shoulder and ribs as she held on.  He moved slowly, taking his time to soak her in; taking the time to memorize each and every sound he could.  

     He had been serious when he called her body an amusement park.  Every bit of her was something new he wanted to ride or explore or experience.  He could feel her tightening against his dick as her breathing became faster.  Bending, he bit into her nipple, shoving her towards her high, knowing full well he would be right behind her.  He was so close, but before he could cum, she slapped his ass hard, bringing him back to her.  She pushed him to the icy shower wall and fell to her knees.  God bless this demonic angel, was his last coherent thought as she sucked him down.  He watched as she pumped him in and out of her mouth.  She watched her handiwork of making him unravel in a way that only she could do for him.

     Violet sucked in the rapidly softening head of his dick before standing back up.  Jake hissed at the feel that left him wrecked.  He wrapped her tight against him.  He kissed her shoulder as she started to giggle, then laugh.

     “Leave it to you to make a dick joke when you’re pissed off,”  she sighed as he turned off the water.  “Shrinky dinks.  I will never forget that one.”

     “Fuckers,”  he said as he was drying her back, paying close attention to her round bottom long enough to elicit a direct look at him in the mirror.

     He dressed and shook out his hair as she was starting to try to dry her own hair.  “I left something on the bed.  A hint of later, maybe?”

     She cooed as he kissed the back of her shoulder.  He glanced at his hint on the bed before walking back downstairs.  Josh, Danny and Sam were already eating on the deck, not bothering waiting when there was food involved.  It was a house rule to live by.  Grabbing a beer, he opted to wait for Violet to come down.  He took time to clean up the grill and ignore his brother’s banter as he did so.  There was too much shit to get done and all he wanted to do is throw a fucking tantrum like a child about only wanting to stay on that deck or in her house, in her bed with her until the very last possible moment.  

      Taking the grill implements back to the kitchen, he froze solid at the sight of her coming down the stairs.  Dressed in shredded, cuffed, tight jeans, she wore her fucking pirate shirt, but it was tied across her belly.  The messy braid made a comeback as well.  He felt his mouth open and stayed open as she batted her eyelashes at him.  

     “Looks like you need something stronger than that beer,”  she noted as she grabbed two low ball glasses.  

     When she reached for the Chicken Cock, he noticed a line of navy that rose above the waist of her jeans.  Looking closer, he discovered she was fucking wearing his g-string, tied on the sides to make it fit.  He babbled as she strolled towards him, a grin on her face that felt like it was meant to kill.

     “Better eat up, Jacob,”  she whispered into his ear.  “You’re going to need your strength tonight.”

     “Yes, sir,”  he returned as she placed a kiss on his cheek.

      He tried to keep his breath from launching into race car mode.  She let out a breathy laugh as she turned to fill a plate.  His brothers cheered her return as she walked out to sit with them.  It was a full minute after she left that he was finally able to move.  The smell of her perfume and the subtle detail of what was to come had him pinned to the counter.  He took a shaky sip before he joined the rest of them.  She was going to ruin him in the best of the best ways and he would fucking welcome it.

***

Violet POV

     The time had come to say goodbye.  She was not ready for it.  Her heart was pounding and her hands were shaking as she walked up to the house.  Josh was not there to greet her as he had every time she visited.  She knocked, but when no answer came, she pushed the door in to call out a loud ‘hello’ that seemed brassy and hard from her throat.  Walking through the house made the finality of their leaving real.  There were cases everywhere, equipment was stacked in one end of the living room as she passed.  Stepping into the kitchen, she saw they were all outside on the deck, their faces turned away from her.  

     She stood for a long time, just watching them interact with each other.  Each one was different from when she first saw them eight weeks prior.  She could see that Sam was ready to return to his home with Jess.  Danny looked phenomenal as he smiled and radiated a confidence that was not really there before.  Josh was staring off into the woods like he wanted one more feral run through the thick swath of nature that was spread out in front of him, and probably do it naked in spite of the ticks.  Jake sat apart, his face turned so that she could not really see him, but his posture was not his typical relaxed state.  

     Opening the door, they all turned towards her, smiles in place - all except for Jake.  The sight of his softened eyes made her breath catch.  He turned his face back from her like he was hiding.

      “Hey all,”  she said quietly as they stood to greet her.  “Looks like you’re ready to go, huh?”

      “Yeah,”  Josh said.  “Don’t mind the bomb that has barfed all over the place.  The truck should be here at any time.”

      He wrapped her up tightly, kissing her cheek with a dramatic mwah.  She felt ridiculous that she did not really want to let him go, but when he flashed her his signature wide grin, she began to feel a little better.  He laughed as he cupped her cheek and drew her back close to him.

      “Hey, I’ve got some things I still gotta get done in there,”  he said, looking back at the guys.  “Sam, Danny, let’s check over things one more time, yeah?”

      The three made a hasty retreat that was too obvious, leaving her to feel like they had just shoved her across hot coals.  Jake stood up, but did not move.  His smile, sad, barely breathed across his mouth, but he held a hand out to her and Violet took it like it was a lifeline.  

      They did not speak, just held on to each other.  Violet could not find the words she wanted to put to voice.  Her heart screamed at her to stop the madness, while her brain told her heart to fuck off.  She breathed him in, her hand pressed into his skin, and her mouth found his.

     “I don’t want to let go,”  he whispered against her lips.

     “I don’t want you to let me go,”  she whispered back.  

     They stood, neither wanting to be the one to break the bond.  He brushed her hair back from her face, then rested his forehead against hers.  Violet felt the no-win situation pulse on her.  Six months.  If this was not real, six months would be nothing.  Six months would feel like a breath.  If it was real, it was going to be hell.  It was going to be a hell that she had chosen to prove to them both that the emotions and feelings for each other were real.  He studied her face, a hint of a smile finally kissing his mouth.

     “Six months,”  he whispered.  

     “Six months,”  she said back.

     “Where are they sending you?”

     “I’ll know next week.”

     “You will text me that information, right?”

     “Yes.”  She felt her eyes begin to well as he pressed his hand to her cheek.  “You will let me know where you are from time to time?  Can’t have you running off on a secret tour or something.”

     He laughed.  “How about I text you and show you what I’m looking at?”

     “I can do that, too, if you want.”

     “I think what you get to do is amazing, you know that right?”

     The first tear hit, followed by the second.  He brushed them away, only to watch as they were replaced.  He pulled her in tight.  

     “Goddamn,”  he whispered, the bang/rumble sound of the truck breaking through their bubble.  

     She peeked across his shoulder to see Danny let two guys in to  start moving the cases of equipment.  Jake kissed her neck.  He started to let go as the door opened and Josh poked his head out.

     “I know,”  he said quietly to his twin, kissing her at her temple.

     He led her back into the house by the hand.  She paused as she saw the men grabbing all the big equipment and carrying it out to their truck.  It was happening so fast.  They were leaving.  Jake was leaving.  He was slipping his hand across the small of her back and pulling her close.

      They walked out front, past the large truck and stood in the yard looking out across the lake.  The guys walked out with their personal luggage and started stowing it into the rental vehicles.  Jake kissed her before disappearing to get his own bags.  Josh walked towards her, his smile melting her into a mess as he held out his arms for her.

       “I will see you again,”  he whispered in her ear.  “I know this.  You know this.  Hell, he knows it, too.  I don’t know why you two have to do this dance of wait and see, darling.”

      “Can’t all be like you, Joshy, and throw caution to the wind,”  she whispered back.

      “Well, it’s stupid.  I’m telling you now, that it’s stupid.  Remember what we talked about on the raft our first time to the lake?”  She nodded with a smile and fond memory.  “You had something for the three of us, but you left Jake off, thinking he wasn’t looking for anything other than a piece of ass.  He has been looking for his equal, his muse.  He’s been looking for the one that would be worth growing up for, being responsible for.  He found you.” 

      Violet sucked in a jagged breath as the tears escaped her eyes.  She kissed his cheek, soaking in the last moments with the feral creature.  Danny was next and the man nearly bowled Josh over.  He hugged her tightly, his warmth flooding her senses to the point of overwhelming.

     “It has been such a pleasure,”  he said quietly.  “You have made this whole trip.”

     “You, sir, need to stay adorable,”  she said, poking him in the chest.  “Anytime you are ever close, you need to let me know.  I may even play a round with you. Let you earn some of that beer back that you owe to Dad.”

      “Will do, Vi,”  he said with a wink.

      Sam was lingering around the edges.  His face seemed long.  

      “Get those baby cow eyes over here, Sticks,”  she said, choking up.  

      “I’m going to miss you, Sunny girl,”  he whispered in her ear.  “Jess adores you, by the way.  She thinks that she needs to call you and get your ass down to Nashville like now.”

      “I’d love to spend time with her,”  she said honestly.  “She’s really remarkable.”

      He twirled her hair with a mischievous smile.  “Take care, Sunshine.”

     “Oooo, must not be feeling lazy,”  she teased, as he hugged her tight  “Love you, too, Sticks.”

      Jake appeared with his bags to toss into the truck.  He seemed focused on getting out of there.  Josh had keys in his hands and was getting his side set up.  Danny and Sam had drifted back towards the car and were getting ready to leave.  Jake caught Josh’s eye for a long moment before turning back to Violet.  He walked towards her.  She felt her body bend towards him like he was her planet.  He placed his hand on her cheek, pulling her to him in a searing kiss that made her whimper against him.  

      “Shit, Jake,”  she whispered.  “Tell me I’m wrong about this and I will believe you.”

      A soft snort and another kiss knocked her into oblivion.  “I want you to know that I would say that in a heartbeat if I knew it was right.  I can wait.  You are worth it.”

     Violet felt a sob break from her chest as he tried to soothe her.  “I gotta go.  I can’t be here for this.”

     He kissed her, deeply, pushing his fingers into her hair to pull her as close to him as possible.  His urgency against her matched her own.  Violet could feel the tears running down her cheeks unchecked.  She dragged in breaths when she could, not wanting to pull away.  

     “I don’t want to be an asshole,”  Josh said loudly.

     Jake tenderly bit her bottom lip before first withdrawing his mouth, then the rest of his face from her.  Taking one more moment against him, she stepped from him, her breaths coming in soft gulps.  One more look into those eyes.  One more soft smile.  Violet bolted to her truck and took off down the driveway.  By the time she was driving past LP’s she had to pull into the parking lot.  Her sobs overwhelmed her.  

     Tony must have been standing on the deck and heard a car.  He appeared at her open window, a warm hand on her back.

      “Come on, Violet honey,”  he said gently.  “Sounds like a whiskey moment.”

***

Jake’s POV 

     He blinked and she was gone.  The only proof of her ever existing was how he could still feel her across his frame and taste the heat of her mouth.  He could still hear her sounds and see her laid out before him when he closed his eyes.  But Violet was gone.

    Josh eased the Jeep up next to him, providing a hasty escape before Sam and Danny could see that the man whore had tears on his face.  With both hands in his hair, he drew in a broken breath as he no longer could hold back the tide.  Josh just hummed and ignored him as Jake was falling apart before they even reached the bottom of the driveway.  For the briefest of moments, he thought that maybe Josh would take pity on him and turn towards her home, but the Jeep moved in the opposite direction.  He felt like his insides were being ripped from him, lit on fire and shoved back in, flames and all.

    Jake had fallen into a stupor by the time they reached the highway.  Josh had started his playlist of sheer terror but it did nothing to evoke any kind of reaction from his twin.  Each time he closed his eyes, he would see the musical notes that made up their time together.  A twist of her mouth to a smile.  A soft moan of her pleasure.  The liquid glass of her eyes that framed her pain.  Her victories.  Her lows.  Her bravery.  His own cowardice.  His own realizations about himself.  He was such a dick about it all, everything and in between that he wanted to stomp on his own balls to punish himself.  It churned within his gut.  He expected that it would explode all over the windshield at any moment.  

    “Make it stop,”  he whispered to himself.

    Jake’s brows stitched together as Josh reached a hand across the center counsel, looping his hand into his own.  It was like they were five and Jake had fallen off the high bar on the playground, but didn’t want anyone else to know he was hurt.  Josh held his hand on the playground until it did not hurt anymore.  He had always done that since infant on - holding Jake’s hand until the pain would disappear.  Sometimes it was moments, sometimes it would be hours.  He breathed out a sob.  He had not needed his twin’s comforts since he could not remember when.

    Josh continued to hum along to the music, eyes on the road, hand squeezing his brother when he would hear a breath that sounded off, or he had grown too quiet.  They were twenty minutes from Grand Rapids when Jake finally needed to look at his phone.  Josh took his hand back willingly, his eyes straying off the road momentarily.

     “Thank you,”  Jake said, his voice strained from the morning.

     “It is going to be hell, you know.  These next six months.”  Josh turned off the music, his face more serious than Jake had seen in a long time.  

     “I’ve not even made it through the first damn hour.  How am I going to survive six fucking months?”  It was not a whine.  It was not a complaint.  Jake honestly did not understand the depth of what was going on.

     “You’ll start small.  Get through the hour.  Move on to the next.  Bury yourself in what we’ve been creating - which has been pretty amazing by the by.  We’ll be here to distract and listen.  You can hold your big brother’s hand whenever you need.”

     Jake breathed out a laugh as Josh began to cackle.  

     “I love her.”  He whispered the admission like it was the most fragile phrase in the world.

     “I know you do.  Violet knows, too.  Trust that.”

***

Violet’s POV

First week of September

J: picture of flowers in Centennial Park, Nashville

V: picture of trees and water in Honduras

4th week of September

V: picture of kids playing in Guatemala

J: picture of his brothers in studio in LA 

3rd week of October

V: picture of mountains in distance, Columbia

J: picture of walking in Savannah, Georgia

1st week of November

J: picture of snow on pine trees in Michigan

V: picture of her shadow on the edge of a dirt path Venezuela 

Mid December

V: picture of savanna in Ethiopia 

J: picture of empty, tiny, sad Christmas tree in his home

End of January

J: picture out the window of car in LA traffic

V: picture of rain on the savanna, ‘I’ve found my people!  They’ve assigned me to this group permanently!’

2nd week of February

V: picture of herself with sunset on the savanna (taken by friend) ‘feeling more like how you see me every day’

J: picture of the guys in snow, arms open in varying widths until Jake had his arms fully around himself and labeled 'an air hug in progression'

2nd week of March

V: picture of her flight itinerary 

J: picture of him with a kissy face taken by Josh, so extra noir flair added in

***

     The last week of March found Violet on a flight home to the States.  Her first stop included a six hour layover at Dulles in DC.  She tried to clean up and weed out her light winter jacket to carry on her next leg of the trip.  She parked herself in a cafe, drinking the largest coffee she could find.  She called her parents to let them know she was back in the States.  They sounded good.  Happy.  The next piece of the trip was a stop for two hours in Chicago.  The air was cooler but heavy with humidity.  She loaded up on coffee, knowing that she would arrive in Grand Rapids in the middle of the night also known as the middle of her early morning.  Her dad was going to meet her to take her back home.  They would fight over who was going to drive and her dad would win over the fact that she probably had two gallons of coffee over the course of her trip and couldn’t hold onto the steering wheel without shaking it violently all the way home.

     Stepping off the plane in Grand Rapids was like stepping into an empty meadow compared to her arrivals in DC and Chicago.  The space and the speed at which people moved were astronomically different.  She felt like she could breathe, perhaps even stroll down to the baggage area, versus the all out heart exploding sprint that seemed to be required in the other airports.  She called her dad to let him know she had landed and was waiting for her luggage.  But he did not answer.  She chalked it up to maybe he was in a spot where he couldn't answer the phone.  

      The sliding doors opened somewhere letting in a bone chilling, wet wind.  Violet had not felt anything other than hot or dry or hot and dry for six months.  Reaching for her jacket, she was quick to zip that lined baby up.  The baggage seemed to take forever.  Once again, she tried her dad, but nothing.  She looked around to see if there was a kiosk that was still open, only to be disappointed.  Not that she needed any more coffee.  

     Grabbing her case when it finally arrived, she turned back to the row of benches to take a perch and try to find her dad.  A third try and he still did not answer.   She debated calling her mom, but thought the better of it.  She did not need family panic and drama at two in the morning.  She opened her text feed from Jake, seeing that he was still radio silent from his last picture of him sitting in a chair holding a calendar with the day she was arriving home circled in thick marker.  

     She debated.  She could go rent a car and get her ass home, all the while looking for her father in the ditches and dark corners on the road.  She could see if there was a room available at one of the hotels around the airport to stay while she tried to figure out where her father was and why Mr. ‘I’m Three Hours Early To Everything’ was not there to pick his daughter up from a long ass flight from another continent.  

     “Looks like you could use a ride,”  a voice came from behind her.

     Her eyes rolled closed.  Taking in a long, slow breath, she felt her heart and brain explode with emotions that made every nerve tingle.  Looking over her shoulder at Jake, she smiled.  He sat down next to her.  His hand brushed against her hair, landing on her cheek.  

     “Hey, gorgeous,”  he whispered before leaning in close.  “May I?”

     “If you don’t, I am going to-”

     His mouth crashed against hers.  She felt her emotions boil under her skin.  He was real.  What she felt was real.  He laughed against her as she realized that she was crying.

     “Oh my,”  she whispered, her hands on both sides of his face.  “This is fucking real.”

     He kissed her again, pulling her as close as possible until the idea hit them both that although they were in a nearly abandoned airport in the middle of the night, they still were not totally alone.  They laughed as he stood and pulled her up with him.

     “Okay, out with it.  How’d you pull this off?”  she asked as he wrapped his arm across her waist and started walking towards the parking garage.

     “I called LP’s and talked to Tony and he got me to Charlie,”  he said with a smile.  “You know, your dad is going to hold me to that beer wager.”

     “Damn right he is.”

     “I flew in a few hours ago and got a car.  Been waiting ever since.”

     “How is everybody?”

     “They wanted to come along, but I said I had dibs.”

     She laughed.  Her heart and brain were shaking hands in truce.  Violet was not totally together, but she was strong.  Somehow, she had Jake, an amazing job, good family and friends.  She felt blessed.

     “What’s going on in that brain of yours?  Something filthy, I hope.”

      She felt the top of her cheeks blush a bit.  The look of satisfaction on his face made her blush even more.  “Well… Actually…  After we fuck the hell out of each other, I’m thinking my inner pirate wants to come out to play.”

      He smiled as he started the car.  The sparkle was in his eyes as he leaned over and kissed her.  In the softest voice he could, he said, “Yes, sir.”

The End *whew*

A/N: I feel like I need to put in here that though this is a piece of fiction that mentions domestic abuse, it is a topic that cannot be repaired until we all are on the same page. I admit, my experience with this, both as a person who suffered without knowing until much later in life what emotional abuse looked like, as well as physical, is limited to incidents in my early adolescence when I had no clue what was going on. If you would like to discuss this, I'm open - let's talk, openly and honestly. It is the only way to bring change.

@lvnterninthenight @doodle417 @luverleaver @niallsboxx @jakesgrapejuice @fictional-duchess @maverick-rose @joshkiszkas-admin

[hxseok-honee]

atlas heart || part 25

a/n : so sorry it took so long getting this update out !! i had a disgusting amount of work to do and i really was not doing anything else for a few days -- i really hope you like it!! pls lmk what you think about things now that jimin (and we) know everything! its gonna get,,,, i wanna say messy but messys not even enough to cover how messy its gonna get

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Jimin can’t remember the last time he’d closed his eyes for more than a few minutes. Time goes by so fast these days that he’s partially convinced he’s been falling asleep and not realizing it. The hours between class and dinner every day are spent in the library, his headphones shoved into his ears haphazardly while he tunnel visions onto what’s been in the back of his mind since the beginning of the year.

Those spare hours had turned into days and days into weeks -- weekends where he doesn’t even glance at his phone, unaware of the growing concern of his friends. It’s almost May now, the chill of early spring having melted away around him without him realizing. His schoolwork stopped being a priority ages ago, and he knows his grades are really taking the hit for it. He vaguely remembers Namjoon confronting him one night some time ago -- a week? Two weeks ago? -- but he can’t for the life of him recall the contents of that conversation. Something about hating to play the ‘prefect card’, but having no choice. He doesn’t even know if he’s still on the quidditch team. It doesn’t matter -- nothing matters when seeing everything with the perspective he’s got now.

Practically buried in scrolls and books, Jimin could care less about the time and the fact that he’s very obviously breaking curfew right now -- the library’s been empty for hours now, and the light outside the window has well past faded into pitch black darkness. He had to hide from Pince around 10pm, barely managing to catch the click of the librarian’s heels through the music blasting in his headphones to keep him concentrated -- it’s a miracle that she hadn't caught him, really. He’d never be able to focus properly back in his room, not when he’s this close to putting the pieces together.

It’s there, right there, everything scattered in his brain. He knows it’s sitting right in front of him, he can feel himself trying to hyperfocus on anything that can blatantly tell him what he needs to know. Flipping through the pages of a book with one hand and shuffling through scrolls with his other, he glances down at a scrap of paper with his own handwriting, chicken-scratch on a ripped up piece of parchment for him to refer back to every few minutes. There, in black ink, the words ‘vampire’ and ‘veela’ are written and then, later, crossed out. There’s one below it -- ‘maledictus’ -- that remains uncrossed and haunts his every thought.

For the better half of the week, he’d spent his nights scouring the bookshelves for any text he could find on blood malediction -- there isn’t much to show for his efforts. Too rare a condition to have any extensive research done, he could barely manage to put together a few measly scrolls and one book with less than a full chapter on the subject. Sighing heavily, Jimin leans back in his chair, rubbing at his temples while he reconsiders the information for what feels like the hundredth time.

It fits the fact that she has a blood condition… but it’s not right. There’s no mention of a potion or even of regularly experiencing sickness. Y/n is in the Hospital Wing like once a month. There wouldn’t be anything Pomfrey or Hoseok could do to help her if she was a maledictus…

He considers that maybe those things are part of blood malediction and that there just isn’t enough documentation for him to verify it. But there’s something nagging at him, telling him this isn’t right. He thinks back over everything he knows, trying to pull up the major details that could help him finally get some sleep. Ignoring the fact that he very well could doze off, even with his loud ass music, he lets his eyes close so he can think. It takes a few minutes, but eventually he’s sitting up in his seat, eyes wide as he recalls something said to him almost months ago, forgotten amidst everything else on his mind.

“What’s the deal with your roommate, Tae?”

“Who, Stephen?”

“No, not fuckin’ Stephen -- Jungkook!”

“Well, how the hell was I supposed to know?”

“Because Stephen doesn’t look at me like I’m the bane of his existence.”

“Yeah… I don’t know what you did to make Jeon Jungkook hate you, but it must have be serious--”

“Just tell me what you know about him, Tae.”

“I mean… nothing crazy, really -- an only child, comes from old money. Probably as old as the Malfoys or the Potters. His family’s the purest of purebloods. And always Gryffindors, just like the Malfoys are always Slytherins. It’s kind of nuts, having a family history like that.”

Jimin stumbles out of his chair, already making his way down the aisles of bookshelves, almost crazed with concentration.

Purest of purebloods -- there’s not a single pureblood family that isn’t documented in a registry… registry… regis-- aha!

Turning down an aisle designated for family registries dating back centuries, he scans the shelves at a lightening speed, finally coming to a halt in front of a tome titled Gryffindor Legacies. Hauling it from the shelf, he doesn’t even bother returning to his table, taking a seat right there on the floor.

Flipping straight to the back to search for the family name, he locates it easily and heads to appropriate page. Searching the family tree down generations, it takes him several pages of flipping through Jungkook’s ancestors’ lives to finally get to his parents. They’re the most recent entry -- new editions of the book are printed with each new generation, the original, handwritten copy belonging to the respective families. It’s an inefficient system for sure, but Jimin’s not exactly complaining when he’s the one benefiting directly.

Scanning the page, from the birth of his mother -- Jeon Eunha -- to her school days, from her marriage to his father all the way to Jungkook’s birth. Jimin expects the next part to follow the same structure of his mother’s story, recounting his childhood, but it diverges from that almost immediately with some extra lines that he almost feels don’t exist in the original copy at the Jeon family residence.

Not long after the birth of their first and only child, they were met with circumstances leading to the adoption and care of another, the recently orphaned infant girl, Y/n Y/l/n. In her days at Hogwarts, young Eunha had become friends with a female Ravenclaw student, who had a noticeably sickly pallor about her at all times. She was to become her closest lifelong friend. The same night in which Y/l/n was to give birth to her first child, she and her husband met an untimely fate in the form of a violent animal attack in the backyard of their own home. The Jeon family were the first to arrive at the premises, deciding immediately to take in the infant child and raise her alongside their own son. Not much else is known about the girl, only that she and the Jeon heir were to become inseparable.

Jimin stares down at the page, unblinking. There’s a lot of information to process, but the things that stand out most to him are the fact that Y/n’s mother was also apparently afflicted with the same illness as Y/n, and --

‘Violent animal attack’? I knew the car accident thing was bullshit, but… did her mom not even die in childbirth? Why would she not tell me… there’s nothing suspicious about an animal atta--

Almost like his brain has started to short-circuit after the long nights and lack of sleep, Jimin’s thoughts are gone instantly, replaced by the mental image of a book sitting not a even a few aisles away, on a table littered with all of the information he’d ever needed in the first place. He’s completely incapable of registering anything around him as he races back to his table, his mind flipping incomprehensibly between the information in front of him and all of the pieces of his memories, details that make too much sense in this moment to match anything but this one conclusion.

Most Muggles, however, will die from the extent of their injuries… all known instances of Muggle attacks have been portrayed in the media as ‘animal attacks’ so as to preserve the secrecy of the wizarding world…

Given the extent of the available research and data, collected almost entirely from male subjects afflicted with lycanthropy, not much is known about the hereditary components related to a female werewolf. Therefore, it is unknown if a pregnant female werewolf's transformations would affect the ability to carry the pregnancy to term…

Without any humans nearby to attack, or other animals to occupy it, the werewolf will attack itself out of frustration…

“My mom died in childbirth and my dad… just a… just a freak accident you know, no one’s fault or anything…”

Because werewolves only pose a danger to humans, companionship with animals whilst transformed has been known to make the experience more bearable as the werewolf has no-one to harm and will be less willing to harm themselves…

“You want to talk about forbidden, Jeon? Let’s talk about your illegal animagus status-”

The way one must imbibe it is very unique among potions, in that a goblet full of wolfsbane potion must be taken each day for a week preceding the full moon…

“…you know how long it takes me to make a full set of vials for you. I barely have enough to make it last 3 days…”

The monthly transformation of a werewolf is extremely painful if untreated and is usually preceded and succeeded by a few days of pallor and ill health…

“He was lowkey carrying her down the stairs… she looked kinda sick actually…”

Throwing scrolls behind him without care as he searches for the one with the final detail, he pulls his phone out when he finds it -- a book listing all of the recorded moon cycles for over a century. Jamming his thumb down on the icon that’ll take him to his search engine and typing with blind panic, he finds himself yanking out his headphones by the cord with one sharp tug when the answer flashes back at it him on the screen, and he realizes that almost all of the pieces are in place.

The quidditch match against Slytherin -- it was the night before a full moon.

“No, no… no, no, no, this can’t be right. This isn’t happening, this can’t be right, she can’t be--” Jimin remembers the text he’d sent to her almost 8 hours ago, sitting unanswered, and he moves without thinking. Slamming his hands down on either side of the moon cycle record, he flips frantically to the cycle for this current month, April of 1978. What he sees there has his heart dropping out of his chest.

“Next week? It’s next week? But that means she’d have to be feeling the effects of it this wee--” He’s cut off by the feeling of his phone buzzing in his pocket, and he reaches for it almost desperately. It’s Y/n, finally responding to his concerned texts with nothing more than a single line. His blood turns to ice when he reads it.

I’m fine, just feeling under the weather.

--

When Jimin bursts through the door of Dumbledore’s office just past 3am, the headmaster’s already seated at his desk, evidently waiting for him. He’s donning a light blue robe with a matching sleeping cap perched delicately on his head, suggesting to Jimin that he’d somehow woken up knowing he was soon to greet a guest. All of the panic invading Jimin’s body is masked just slightly by guilt, only now realizing how late it is and how intrusive he must seem in this moment.

“Mister Park, you certainly are out quite a bit past curfew, no?” Jimin stands in the doorway cradling all of the scrolls and books he’d been hoarding the last few weeks -- he can’t very well have left a huge pile of evidence back in the library. It would have taken no time at all for someone to look through it and see there were connections everywhere to lycanthropy, even if he himself had been blind to it for so long.

“... Park? Mister Park?” Jimin jumps, lifting his tired eyes to meet Dumbledore’s concerned ones. The man continues once he’s got Jimin’s attention. “Surely, you must need something from me, or you wouldn’t appear so…” He doesn’t finish his sentence. He doesn’t need to. Jimin’s aware of the state he’s in -- the dark rings under his eyes, his ruffled clothes and hair, the way he’s holding his books like he needs to protect them with his life. He looks unhinged. He feels unhinged.

Realizing he has absolutely no idea how to approach the subject of a potential werewolf at Hogwarts with the school’s very headmaster, Jimin decides to start by moving toward the chair in front of Dumbledore’s desk.

Maybe I just need to sit down and take a deep breath. That should help--

He doesn’t even make it two steps before one of the many books he’s holding crashes to the floor between them, falling open to the page he’d stuck a pencil in to save his spot. The moon cycle for April of 1978 stares back up at him, and when he flicks his gaze up to peer at Dumbledore, he sees the headmaster’s expression has hardened with caution.

“Professor--”

“Have a seat, Mister Park.” Jimin’s heart lodges in his throat at Dumbledore’s tone, never having heard such a sharp edge to the kind man’s voice. He moves to the chair, setting the obnoxious amount of research haphazardly in his lap. His eyes will only go so far as the top of Dumbledore’s desk, unable to bring himself to meet the man’s eyes.

“Sir, I… need to ask you something.” When he isn’t granted a response, he swallows hard, pushing forward. “If there were to be a student at Hogwarts with a… peculiarity of sorts… how would you go about dealing with that?”

“How would I deal with what, Mister Park?”

“That student.”

“I’m not quite sure I know what you mean.” Jimin lifts his eyes then, confused, but he’s met with a deliberately ignorant smile.

“Sir?” Dumbledore’s smile, albeit strained, only widens.

“I think you may be suffering from a lack of sleep, Mister Park. There are no students at Hogwarts with any peculiarities, as you call it.” Jimin stares suspiciously up at him, knowing Dumbledore can tell that Jimin doesn’t for a second believe that claim. Breaking eye contact, he glances down at his lap, trying to figure out how to keep this conversation going. Trying to figure out why he’s even here.

Jimin looks down at himself and the pile of incriminating evidence, cursing his idiocy when he realizes just how bad this situation must look. A student out of bed way past curfew, barging into the headmaster’s office holding weeks of research and making outrageous claims about a potentially dangerous student. And he’s a Ravenclaw no less.

Shit. He probably thought I was some nosy little fucker trying to expose her and get her expelled.

Knowing that he’s risking a lot by being straightforward, he takes a single deep breath and meets Dumbledore’s eyes, his own filled with determination.

“Sir, I know about Y/n Y/l/n, and I know you do, too. I need to know how to take care of her. I need to know how to help her. I need you to tell me what to do because, to be honest with you, I’m freaking out.” The way Dumbledore’s examining him as he speaks tells Jimin that he’s right, but more importantly, it tells Jimin that Dumbledore hadn’t been expecting him to want to help.

“That is a very serious accusation you’re making, Mister Park, especially in this political climate. Very serious.” Jimin doesn’t waver when he responds.

“I know, sir. That’s why you’re the only one I’ve made it to. Because I need your help. Because I know you can help.” Dumbledore narrows his eyes, peering at Jimin over the tops of his half-moon spectacles.

“Have you considered the fact that just you knowing this information at all has placed Miss Y/l/n in more danger than she’s already in?” As soon as the words leave Dumbledore’s mouth, Jimin’s heart is stopping in his chest. All the times that Hoseok and Jungkook had told him to mind his business come rushing back, and he feels himself becoming sick to his stomach. Of course it’s more dangerous for her now that he knows -- he’d been too selfish to even think it through, too nosy for his own good. He had done all this to try to understand her, to try to be a better friend who can help when she needs it, but it’s all bullshit. Everything he thought he had done for her sake had actually been for his. For him and his stupid curiosity.

Lifting his head as a thought comes to mind, Jimin doesn’t even think twice before speaking.

“Can you erase my memories?” The headmaster’s eyebrows fly to his hairline, his expression becoming amused as Jimin continues rambling. “Can’t you obliviate me or something? Wouldn’t that be the best way for me to help her? Wait… but do you have to erase everything I know about her -- will I still know her? Can you make sure I still know her? I really like her! I don’t like Hoseok or Jungkook very much -- they kind of scare me -- but I like her! I don’t want to forget her, but also if me knowing that she’s a werewolf is only going to cause her more trouble, then I really think you should make me forget--” Dumbledore lifts his hand calmly, effectively silencing a frantic Jimin.

“Have you always had such a one-track mind, Mister Park?” Jimin smiles weakly, offering a half-joking response.

“It’s my only redeeming Ravenclaw quality…” Dumbledore chuckles before scratching at his forehead with a heavy sigh.

“Unfortunately -- and I do truly mean that -- I cannot erase a student’s memories. So, you and I will need to continue this difficult conversation.” Jimin considers the man’s words, knowing that it really would be better for everyone if he had his mind wiped clean and hating that he’d unknowingly put Y/n even more in harm’s way. He looks up when Dumbledore sighs again.

“Mister Park, you do understand that you are strictly forbidden from informing anyone else of this situation, yes?” When Jimin nods immediately, opening his mouth to assure the man that he wouldn’t say a word, Dumbledore only shakes his head. “No, Mister Park, I’m not sure you really understand. This situation is infinitely more complicated than you could ever imagine, so it is absolutely imperative that you keep this information to yourself.” Jimin blinks, unsure what’s meant by ‘infinitely more complicated’, but he nods again.

“I’ve put her in enough danger just by being here, Sir -- I’m not breathing a word of this to anyone.” Dumbledore examines him a moment longer, essentially staring into Jimin’s soul to gauge his trustworthiness. Eventually he nods, leaning back in his chair.

“What advice would you like me to give you, Mister Park?” Jimin stays silent, thinking hard about any way that he can make Y/n’s life easier, especially after all the trouble he’s caused up to now. His mind flashes back to the conversation he’d overheard in the library. He opens his mouth slowly, choosing his words with care.

“Sir… how does a student that isn’t even taking Potions know how to brew the wolfsbane potion? Isn’t it nearly impossible?” Jimin sees Dumbledore’s eyes flicker with recognition, and the headmaster responds cautiously.

“…If that student isn’t taking any kind of Potions course at all, they’d need to already be an expert from having dedicated all their studies to the art of potionmaking. They would also need an immense amount of private mentoring, even if they are taking Potions. We do not teach the wolfsbane potion in the curriculum. As I’m sure you can imagine, it wouldn’t fare well in these times…” Jimin squints, putting the pieces together quickly in his mind.

“And where would a student like that find this kind of… private mentoring?” The headmaster hums at Jimin’s question, peering down at him with knowing eyes.

“Well, Mister Park, if you wish to receive mentoring on much… safer forms of potionmaking, I’m sure Professor Slughorn would be happy to help you. However, if you are asking me about Mister Jung Hoseok of Slytherin House, and if you are wondering just how he became capable of caring for Miss Y/l/n at the young age of 13, well… you’re looking at his mentor.”

--

When Jimin leaves Dumbledore’s office almost an hour later, he feels like his head is going to explode. The nights of sleeplessness seem to also have come rushing back to him at once, and he’s not sure if he’s going to collapse first from the exhaustion or from the weight of everything he knows now. For a moment, he considers that maybe he really should ask someone to erase his memories -- Jungkook or Hoseok, perhaps.

Yeah, I’m sure they’d absolutely love to do me that favor.

Dragging his feet as he trudges down the corridor in the direction of Ravenclaw tower, Jimin stops short at a window when movement down by the Black Lake catches his eye. Almost as if thinking about them has caused them to materialize before him, Jimin watches the silhouette of Jung Hoseok stroll casually down by the shoreline, followed not long after by Jeon Jungkook racing toward him, a body perched precariously on his back. It’s not hard to see that Y/n’s clinging weakly to him as he runs, her arms wrapped around his shoulders as he keeps his hands hooked under her knees. Jimin can see that she’s got a gown on from the Hospital Wing, and it’s obvious that Jungkook and Hoseok have snuck her out from under Madam Pomfrey’s stern supervision.

They head for the Forbidden Forest, Y/n reaching back for Hoseok when Jungkook passes him. She beckons him forward, and Jimin watches as the three of them disappear together into the trees. He sighs deeply when he can no longer see them, muttering to himself under his breath as he makes his way to his room, overcome with extreme guilt at the entire situation.

“You’ve really gone and done it now, you fucking idiot.”

[canonicallysoulmates]

J2′s Virtual Con Panel (March 7th, 2021)

Alright, let’s talk j2! As all of you probably know by now Jared and Jensen had a virtual con panel today (March 7th, 2021); it was the first j2 con panel of the year, and we started on a good note. I will be providing some time stamps, and as always I will be providing a link to the whole panel at the end of this post so y’all can watch it for yourself, I highly recommend doing so, it was a really good panel. 

Okay, let’s jump right into it!

- The panel started late, and the reason I am mentioning that is because I have to comment on how stressful that wait was with the grey screen saying ‘standby!’. I much rather preferred the countdown, it was less stressful 😅 

- Anyways, the panel starts off with some cute banter between the boys, they spend around 6mins just talking to each other, joking about Jensen’s hair, telling stories about each other. Honestly, answering questions was unnecessary because I would have happily seen a full hour of that, of just them talking. 

- Jensen said he missed Jared 🥺

- So...Jared addressed Jensen’s birthday and okay let’s talk about this. After Jensen says he missed Jared and that it’s been so long since they’ve seen each other, Jared fumbles on his way to comment about how he was gonna post for Jensen’s birthday. You can practically see his brain buffer cause I s2g that man was this close to saying he was with Jensen before his brain kicked in, and then he switched lanes to mention taking a trip with G for their anniversary. 

Of course I have an opinion about this, I don’t know if I’ll be able to express it coherently, but I shall try; it is so incredibly convenient he’d mention what has been a big talking point in fandom for the past couple of days. This is such a stupid thing to lie about, and it’s a lie that falls apart in seconds cause if you think about it shit don’t make sense. 

We know that Jared and G were on a trip, but we also know they were in Colorado. Thanks to D’s hairstylist, we know Jensen’s also in Colorado. 

So, I’m expected to believe that these two men who are incredibly close, who in this same panel mention how much they’ve missed each other, that Jared who says he didn’t post on his boy’s birthday (and yes he called Jensen his boy again 🥰) because he got all emotional thinking about how this was gonna be the first birthday in years he wasn’t gonna be by Jensen’s side and be able to give him a hug- I am expected to believe that Jared was in the same state and didn’t even make a pitstop by where Jensen’s at?! That they’d be in the same state and not even meet up?!  Not only that, Jared and G’s anniversary was on the 27th which fell on a Saturday, based on reports we know they took that trip from the 28th to the 1st, if this was an anniversary trip why not make it a weekend thing from Friday to Sunday? Why do it from Sunday to Monday which was a workday? And I’m also expected to believe that they went on an “anniversary trip” and little mrs. social media preferred to post an old ass pic and not post anything at all from said trip, even posting a pic as if she were in Austin on the 1st.  Bitch please, I love you but go to someone else with that tale cause I ain’t buying. 

- Continuing with the panel, the boys start answering questions and I’mma just tell y’all right now a lot of the questions in this panel are kinda shit. This is the first panel of the year, both these men have big projects going on and yet the first question is about parenting. Their answer is pretty much the same thing they always answer, that they can’t do it alone, that most of it is their wives, Jared says he helps with the kids in the morning and then goes to the guest house and leaves Gen to it, if you’ve heard once you’ve heard it a million times. 

- Next question is about dreams, and Jensen makes a joke about mushroom induced dreams that Jared finds so hilarious he has to duck out of frame. I don’t know if y’all have ever seen The Late Show with Stephen Colbert but Stephen’s wife is usually there when he’s filming and that woman laughs at even his stupidest jokes, if you see them interact they are that couple that is so obviously in love years into their marriage, they make each other laugh, and the reason why I am bringing this up in a j2 post is because that is the vibe that moment had! Actually, that’s the vibe a lot of this panel had; that mushroom joke was not that funny yet Jared reacted as if Jensen was the funniest man in the world.  And the j2 doesn’t stop there because when it’s Jared’s time to answer the question the boys say they’re in each other’s dreams. x 

- Jared said he sits in the Impala in his garage 🥺 Jensen said his Impala is safe and covered in a secure location in Austin, which I’m going to interpret as he left it with Jared.

- A fan asked if we would see director!Jensen make an appearance on Walker and Jared revealed he was supposed to! Jensen was slated to direct episode 5 of Walker but due to commitments to The Boys he sadly wasn’t able to but both boys say that it will happen and it’s something they’re looking forward to. So are we boys, so are we ❤

- When talking about how Jensen was supposed to direct episode 5 of Walker, Jensen commented that Jared was looking forward to having someone who knew him so well and could help him creatively on the set. Now, I will for no particular reason remind y’all that G works on the show. 

I love Jensen ☕ 

-  Moving on! Jensen talked about his production company. He said it is currently developing 5 different projects including one that they will be delivering to the network this week and that they have a project he’s excited about with an spn alumn. He said working on these projects and his company is what he’s been spending his time on in Colorado.

- Jensen put on a beanie and y’all are not ready for what happened. Not only did he look cute af, not only did Jared like how Jensen looked and compliment him but he called Jensen babe 😍 Now listen you don’t have to take my word for it, listen to the audio a couple times, form your own opinion about what you hear but I have listened to multiple versions of that clip with headphones multiples times at different volumes...and imo Jared calls Jensen babe, you can try to take that from me over my dead body. x  

- They were talking about a fight outtake they did on the finale in slow motion, and did an example and when I tell y’all those two somehow managed to do an in perfectly in sync slowmo fight virtually! 

- They showed their matching tattoos! 

- Jensen sends Jared shirtless selfies and gives him beard updates. I swear I am not making this up. 

- And in the line of things I swear I am not making up is that Jared grabbed the pic Jensen send him, and edited it to make it seem as if Jensen was singing the clean version of WAP, that is one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen 😂

- Jensen said him and Jared like to watch the early season gag reels 🤗

- At one point Jensen tried to tell one of Jared’s jokes and not even three words in this man was already in tears laughing so hard, he says it’s something that makes him laugh every time he thinks about it, he could barely get through the joke and to be fair it is hilarious; the joke goes: Did you hear there was an explosion at a cheese factory in France? The brie was everywhere. That cracked me tf up and it left them in tears 😂

- Jensen called Jared a freaking ox 😂

- Jensen says that if the roles were reversed and Sam had died, Dean would have wasted away at the back of a pool hall 😭

- The panel ends with j2 saying I love you to each other 😭❤

It was a really good panel, I had missed these men so so so so much, they have brightened my spirits and I’ve been in a good mood since I watched it, they just make me so happy 🥰. If you haven’t seen it yet I highly recommend doing so, the boys were looking cute, it was funny, they kept making each other laugh and there was even heart eyes! Jared kept getting the cutest little smile when Jensen was speaking, it was adorable! 

J2 Virtual Panel 

[morbidkisses]

I’m not sure how your requests work or what you would need, but could I get a yandere Hoseok story please?

You Belong With Me. (y! hoseok drabble)

warning: yandere themes, obsessive themes, yandere behavior, manipulation, abusive relationships, hobi gets kind of aggressive later on in the story, misogyny, choking, hair pulling, reader is chained up to the wall, death, minor character deaths.

summary: you get into an argument with hoseok because he refuses to let you go outside and catch up with your friends over a few drinks.

I do not condone this type of behavior so please don't romanticize this type of sick behavior, and if you're part in an abusive relationship please seek help!

once again this is FICTION, and yandere is counted as horror/mystery type of shit so stay safe bubbies! oh and this might be triggering so please read at your own risk, and if you don't like stuff like this then SCROLL. I talk too much-

"What? so you love them more than me??"

you rolled your eyes and sighed in exasperation. your boyfriend was being irrational at this point, and it was driving you crazy. You met hoseok a few weeks ago, and you were charmed by his radiant smile, his sweet words, he was the perfect gentleman with good looks and a fat bank account, you couldn't say no when he asked you out on a date, how could you? he was literally so perfect, but you were too blind to see the dark imperfections hidden behind his bright smile.

"For the hundredth time, hobi, they're my friends and I just want to catch up with them! You're being illogical-"

"How am I the one being illogical when you're the one who is choosing your so-called friends over me???" He threw his hands in the air to emphasize his point, his eyes were so wide you thought they would pop out.

"Just because I want to see them and talk to them doesn't mean I love them more than you, for God's sake!!! stop being so childish." you yelled out as you tugged at your hair strands in frustration. Why was he making such a big deal out of this? it wasn't like you were going out to cheat on him with someone else, you just wanted to go out and catch up with your friends at the local bar.

"You're not going, and that's the end of this stupid discussion, love. Now, get your ass back in the bedroom and change into something proper, you look like a slut in that dress."

Okay. that was it. You grabbed the first thing your hands could find, which was a tissue box and threw it at him as hard as you possibly could in rage. How dare he call you that, your dress was completely fine. You were clad in a simple black dress that dropped right above your knees and the only thing that could be considered inappropriate by society was the little cleavage that was showing, but even if you were to go out in the tightest dress he still had no rights to call you that. You had to leave him. And leave him you did.

"You're such a bitch, I tried to make this shit work but honestly I'm fed up with your immature ass. Im leaving." you picked up your purse which had your car keys and phone in it, before walking towards the entrance door and opening it.

"don't bother calling me again." you mumbled before slamming the door shut behind you.

Hoseok was in a state of shock, his soul had left his body, he couldn't process what just happened. It felt like someone had just poured a bucket of ice cold water on him.

"n-no... y/n, sweetie, come back..." his voice cracked as he fell to his knees in devastation. He knew you could no longer hear him, but he hoped you would come back through those doors and hug him. How could you be so cruel? You were the reason he was breathing? He felt like all the light was pulled out of him, his mind going numb as he stared down at his hands.

Soft cries left his lips as his stature stuttered while he sobbed silently, but not before long, he broke into an unhinged laughter as he sat down on the ground and leaned back against the couch, his eyes stuck to the door you had so rudely slammed into his face. All traces of sadness had disappeared from his face, a devilish smirk replacing the heartbreaking frown.

You were going to regret this big time.

He grabbed his phone and quickly dialed a number.

"Tae, my birdie just left me, can you do me a favor and bring her back to me?"

The person on the other line scoffed audibly

"Do I even have a choice?" 'Tae' groaned.

"Not really. Be careful not to hurt her, and bring her two little friends with her as well, I don't care if you hurt them just keep those two alive, my birdie needs to learn a lesson."

A sigh could be heard from the other line before 'tae' mumbled an okay.

"I'll text you the location."

Everything was a blur, one moment you were laughing and having fun with your friends and the very next second you fell unconscious. Unknown to you, someone might have put a few ingredients in your drinks.

You woke up with a throbbing ache in your head, your mind was fogged up and you couldn't think. A groan left your lips as you brought your hands up to rub your temples. You sat up on what seemed to be a bed, your mind started clearing up, but you were still confused, where were you? what happened? You fully opened your eyes and panic started filling your mind as you realized you were in Hoseok's room. You started hyperventilating and quickly got out of bed, but you felt something heavy around your ankle.

was he fucking serious???

He had cuffed your ankles, you were literally chained to the wall. the chain was long enough for you to roam around the room and the bathroom.

You were hysteric, trying your hardest to pull out the thick chains from the wall, but your efforts were futile. Silent sobs began pouring from your lips as you panicked. After giving up you slumped against the wall and hugged your knees as you cried to yourself.

"Oh you're up!" Hoseok beamed as he entered the room.

Furious yet terrified, you stood up and charged at him full speed before grabbing him by the collar of his white shirt and yanking him closer to your face.

"Listen here, you crazy psychopath, if you don't let me out of here right now I'll-"

"oh please, what are you gonna do?" he grinned sinisterly as he gingerly ran his fingers through your hair, you were such a cute little thing, bluffing around. You couldn't do shit to him at the moment, and both of you were aware of that fact. His gentle strokes didn't last long as he yanked your hair back.

"You must learn your lesson, my love, I didn't want to do this but you misbehaved."

His other hand wrapped around your throat, cutting off the blood flow to the brain. Your face started becoming red as you tugged at his hand.

"p-plea... se... s-sto..."

He scoffed at your expression as he tilted his head. "know your place."

He tightened his grip one last time before letting you fall to the ground on your knees, before you broke into a coughing fit.

"That's where you belong" his tone was enough to make you shudder. "you belong with me... completely at my mercy."

You didn't have it in you to fight more so you just weakly glared up at him, your legs felt numb, rendering you motionless on your knees.

"I hate you..."

"aw, but I've barely started your punishment, love! It's still too early to hate me!"

although your words stung him a bit, he didn't show it. He just feigned an innocent smile before he grabbed his phone and unlocked it.

Bewildered by his actions, you frowned. What was he up to? what did he mean when he said it's still too early to hate him?

"Ah Tae! Hello!" He sounded awfully cheerful and enthusiastic. How could he shift his mood like that. It seemed as if he was face timing someone on his phone.

Hoseok looked down at you and he almost cooed at your adorably confused expression.

a sigh was heard from the other line. "You owe me big time, hoseok."

"yeah yeah, I'll send you the money later. Can you show me our friends for a bit?"

no.. he couldn't mean...

He crouched down next to you and showed you the screen of his phone. Your eyes widened in horror as you quickly began shaking your head.

"Hobi, please no no, please! Leave them out of this please!" you almost choked on your tears as you begged him to let your friends go.

"it's a bit too late for that, baby." he pressed a kiss to your temple which made your skin crawl in disgust.

"YOU BASTARD, LET THEM GO." you screamed at the screen as you watched your best friends tied up and severely bruised.

"I don't get paid enough for this shit..." 'Tae' muttered. You couldn't see his face on the screen, probably because he was using the back camera to show your friends.

"the fuck am I supposed to do now?" the person behind the camera asked.

"oh just finish them off."

Hoseok sat down on the ground and back hugged your body, his head resting on your shoulder as he made sure your eyes didn't leave the screen.

"no please don't! I'm begging you please stop!" you cried out as the camera got closer to your friends. Your friends' cries were left unheard as two bullets were shot right into their skulls.

You let out a blood curling scream as you thrashed around, but hoseok was stronger than you, so he held you down with ease. How could he do that?

"I'll kill you! I'll kill you both, you motherfuckers!" you screamed at them both as tears streamed down your cheeks.

"thank you, tae, I owe you! bye bye!" he ended the call.

"You see love, we could've avoided all of this... if you had just been obedient. This is all your fault, I hope you know that." he sighed as he looked down at your crying form.

He was sick, how could he say that, did he feel no remorse?

"you can't leave me... you belong to me."

a/n: that was kind of shitty- but I tried- sorry for the late updates! I hope you like it :]]

this is unedited by the way :]

oh and I used a yandere starter prompt by @yandere-daydreams ! :]

[master-sass-blast]

This Life is Infinite: Chapter One.

OH YEAH. IT'S TIME, BITCHES!!!

Summary: The Infinity War Fic aka I do whatever the fuck I want with the Russo's canon.

Get ready for the most ambitious crossover in CHC history.

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader, Nathan Summers x Wade Wilson, Alexandra Rasputin x Nikolai Rasputin, and Kitty Pryde x Illyana Rasputin.

Rating: M for canon typical violence and death threats.

Word Count: 10k... oops.

Set after "Children of the Gods: Part Three."

Author's Note: Tentatively, I’m back from my hiatus. Things are nowhere near settled with my mental health, but I’m feeling well enough to post again.

I think it mostly goes without saying that updates for this series might be a little irregular going forward; not only do I need to take care of myself, but I also need to find a better balance with posting fanfiction and the rest of my life. As always, I will do my best to be clear with you all about what to expect in terms of updates and wait times.

Thank you again for your compassion and understanding.

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @super-darkcloudstudent, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @leo-writer, @emma-frxst, @sadstone-s

It’s not every day that mysterious, leather-clad men appear –quite literally, considering they teleported in—in your kitchen unannounced.

(Okay, perhaps they don’t qualify as “mysterious” when one of them is your dad, one of them is your brother, and the third is your uncle, but there’s a fourth man with them that you don’t recognize, so you like to think that the principle of the expression remains intact.)

You glance between Nate, Wade, your uncle, and the aforementioned unrecognized fourth man, then lift the box of cereal you’d been pouring into a bowl by way of greeting. “Breakfast?”

***

(The fourth man, as it turns out, goes by the code name “Kronos” –which, in terms of super cool code names, ranks at about an eight.)

“There’s a war coming,” Nate explains while the four of you stand around your kitchen counter. “Apocalypse is stirring. He’ll be sending his allies to Earth to initiate the first stage of the war, so that he’ll encounter less resistance when he comes to rule.”

“‘s called ‘The Decimation,’” Wade interjects as he shovels spoonfuls of Lucky Charms into his mouth. He points at his bowl, then jerks his head at the fridge. “D’ y’all have chocolate syrup?”

“Yeah, second shelf on the door.” You take another bite of your cereal, swallow, then ask Nathan, “What… what happens with ‘The Decimation?’”

“One of Apocalypse’s allies, Thanos, will arrive with his armies and generals. He’ll use his own forces to annihilate the heroes of Earth, then he’ll finish assembling the Infinity Stones and gauntlet and use them to wipe out half of all life across the cosmos.”

You purse your lips together and eye your dad warily. “If… if this was anyone other than you saying this, I’d say this all sounds like a hackneyed comic book and-or movie plot.”

“His information checks out,” Kronos says, voice low and gravelly. “Our cross-temporal intel confirms communications between Apocalypse and Thanos. We might have a few weeks to prepare for Thanos’s arrival –and that’s if we’re lucky.”

Wade snorts and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like “handwavey bullshit” under his breath.

You look to your uncle. “And you’re here because…”

“Need to talk to Xavier,” your uncle answers, “and then alert the Avengers and anyone else that can help us face Thanos.”

“Right,” you say slowly. “And you stopped here first because…”

“I was hungry,” Wade blurts as he drizzles more chocolate syrup on top of his cereal.

“You have credibility,” Nathan says while shooting Wade an equally annoyed and endeared look. “Xavier and Piotr listen to you, and the rest of the X-Men listen to them. We can’t afford to deal with a bunch of hesitating and infighting right now. We need to get our shit together and defeat Thanos, or the world as we know it is fucked.”

“Question.” Wade lifts his spoon. “Does Donald Trump die in this decimation bullshit?”

“We’ll deal with him later,” your uncle stage-whispers to Wade.

“If you’re all sure…” You wait for all four of them to nod, then sigh and shrug. “Alright. I think most of the X-Men are training right now. Let’s go talk to them.”

***

“This all sounds fucking insane.”

Wade gasps. The eyes on his mask widen as he lifts a gloved hand to where his mouth is under his mask. “James Doohan used a no-no word! My goodness gracious golly!”

Scott Summers scowls, but otherwise ignores Wade. He turns to the Professor, expression incredulous. “Do you believe… any of this?”

Xavier grimaces. “Our sources through Kronos” –he gestures to your uncle’s colleague—“have been confirming the intentions of Apocalypse for several years now. The difficulty was always in determining when Apocalypse would act, and in which timeline –though, now that we have Cable’s intel, we’ve been able to figure those two details out.”

“If Thanos is as powerful as you’re saying,” Ororo pipes up, looking at Nathan, “then how are we supposed to defeat him?”

“Any way we can,” Nathan fires back, expression grim.

“Our intel says that Thanos only has three of the six Infinity Stones, along with the gauntlet,” Kronos adds. “If we can keep the last three stones out of his hands and defeat his armies here on Earth, we’ll have better odds of facing Apocalypse down the road.”

“Right,” Jean says. “And where are the last three stones?”

“The Mind Stone is in the possession of Vision, an android created by Ultron, who now works with the Avengers,” Kronos explains. “The Time Stone is in the possession of Doctor Stephen Strange, who leads an order of sorcerers and magic users in New York. The Soul Stone… has yet to be located.”

“And we’re sure that Thanos is coming here?” Ororo asks, brows raised in skepticism.

“One of the unifying features across the pertinent timelines is a battle that takes place on Earth, specifically in the country of Wakanda,” Kronos answers. “Regardless of the other features in the timeline, there is always a major confrontation between Thanos and the forces of earth there.”

“Great,” Rogue deadpans, expression flat. “Now we just have to convince them to let us in. ‘Excuse me, your Majesty T’Challa, but there’s an evil spaceman that is collecting all powerful rhinestones and he’s going to come here to try and wipe out half of all life on Earth, so we need you to let us into your country with strict visitation policies to we can help you fight him.’ Yeah, that’ll go over real well.”

“We don’t have time to waste on sarcastic bullshit,” Nathan grits out, cybernetic eye flaring as he glares at Rogue. “We’ll handle getting the Avengers and Wakanda on board,” he says, turning to the Professor. “I take it we can trust you to get your team and Magneto collected?”

“I’ll contact Erik,” Xavier promises before looking over at your husband. “Piotr, would you mind calling your family? I believe, given the severity of the coming conflict, having as many hands as possible would be in our best interests.”

Piotr nods. “Konechno –of course.” He looks up at you from where he’s sitting, confusion clear in his sky blue eyes—

“You good to come with us?” Nathan asks, tapping your shoulder lightly to get your attention. “We’ll need help talking to Stark.”

“Huh? Uh –yeah. Sure.” You look back at Piotr; the request to ask for five minutes, just five minutes, to talk to your husband is on the tip of your tongue—

Nate tugs you –gently—a couple inches closer, then says, “Bodyslide by five.”

The room blurs, then disappears from view.

***

You’ve only bodyslid with Nathan a handful of times –and each time you do, you’re always caught off guard by how fucking weird it feels.

Your stomach lurches like you’ve just gone down the steepest drop on a rollercoaster, even though the ground remains steady beneath your feet. In a flash, there’s a brand new room in front of you –sleek, monochromatic cabinets, white marble countertops, stainless steel appliances and fixtures, the works. The space oozes sophistication, function, style –and money. So much money.

Given everything you’ve heard about Tony Stark, it makes sense.

“Deep breaths,” Nathan says. He places a steadying hand on your shoulder while you blink rapidly. “In through the nose, out through the mouth.”

You do your best to comply –though it’s a bit difficult, given that your brain is shrieking ‘sensory overload’ while trying to adjust to the new lighting, the new sounds, the sensation of having moved without really having moved at all, at least in the sense of walking or riding in a car—

And then alarms start blaring. Red lights flash, klaxons go off, the works.

Wade swears and claps his hands over his ears. “Christ! For a guy who has literal robots that can wipe his ass with dollar bills, you think he’d invest in something a little easier on the ears!”

“Wilson!” The klaxons and red lights cut out, replaced by various whirring noises and the sound of hurried, angry footsteps. “I swear to God, if you’ve hijacked one of my jets again, I’m gonna –who the fuck are all of you?”

Tony Stark looks… nothing like what you see in the papers. Granted, his face and hair look largely the same, but he’s not wearing the crisp, stylish suits that all the magazines, articles, papers, and interviews feature him wearing. He’s got on a worn, holey Metallica shirt, ripped, grease stained jeans, and a pair of scuffed sneakers that look like they might’ve been purchased ten years ago, for all that they’re barely holding together.

The army of security bots hovering and whirring around him, however, do fit his press image.

“Jon Snow!” Wade chirps, waggling his fingers at the harried “genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist.” “Long time, no talk. How’s Daenerys doing?”

“Summers, would you do me a favor and put your psychopath on a leash?” Tony asks, tone less than polite or pleasant as he focuses on Nate. “Preferably a nice short one that’s far away from me?”

“We’re here to talk,” Nathan says –though he does stop Wade from trying to play with the knives in the block on the kitchen counter. “It’s a matter of life and death. The well-being of the entire universe is at stake.”

“Yeah, been there, done that,” Tony says, looking none too impressed.

“One of your colleagues may have mentioned his name,” Kronos interjects, taking a step forward. “Does the word ‘Thanos’ ring any bells?”

Tony’s expression sobers for an instant, but he hides it quickly enough. “This is private property, and you’re all—”

A red being with a green suit and a yellow gem in the center of his forehead emerges from the floor. He places himself between Tony and the rest of you. “Would you like me to escort them out, Mr. Stark?”

“Ah, Casper the Friendly Android with No Concept of Personal Boundaries Despite the Infinite Knowledge!” Wade fires back, waving cheerfully. “How you doing, twenty-twenty?”

Vision sighs, longsuffering. “You have been expressly forbidden from these premises, Mr. Wilson.”

“Unless he’s here under my direct supervision,” Nathan fires back. “Stark, we need to talk about this—”

“Tony?” A tall, elegant woman with red hair wearing a tailored, navy blue dress walks up behind the man in question. She flashes you all a polite smile, but there’s no missing the way her gaze cautiously assesses each one of you. “I’m guessing these aren’t –oh. Wade’s here.”

Wade waves in response. “Hi, Miss Potts! How’s being a CEO?”

“It’s going very well, thank you,” Pepper replies politely –though, this time, she’s scanning the room for missing objects and-or visible damage. When nothing turns up, she looks back at Tony. “Are we escorting them out?”

“They claim to have information about the end of the world,” Tony says, tone flippant –though the grave expression on his face belies his snark. “About Thanos.”

Recognition flashes over Pepper’s face, though her polite mask never fully slips. She nods, then says, “Are we going to listen to them?”

“Probably should,” Tony replies in the same lackadaisical tone. “I’m not turning off the security drones while Wilson’s here, though.”

“Just for that, I’m pissing in your Ficus before I leave,” Wade huffs.

“That seems like it’s for the best,” Pepper tells Tony, smiling going tight at the edges while she stares at Wade. She takes a breath, steeling herself, then steps past Tony and nods at the rest of you in greeting. “Sorry for the confusion. Would you mind coming with us, so we can talk somewhere more comfortable?”

***

“I started connecting the dots after Thor left,” Tony explains, twirling a pencil between his fingers as he paces back and forth. “He mentioned Thanos briefly –but with the destruction and repurposing of Loki’s staff, the straggling records of Dormammu’s attack and the use of the Time Stone by Strange, the roles that the Tesseract and Loki’s staff played in the attack on New York by the Chitauri…” He sighs, pausing to stare out at the window at some unseen object before grimacing and shrugging. “It wasn’t hard to figure out.”

You’re all gathered in a conference room –which, as with the kitchen, carries the same modern, sleek style. Floor to ceiling windows show off the training grounds and the forest that conceals the base from the rest of the world. A massive plasma TV takes up one of the far walls, while the other walls are taken up by various dormant, holographic and electronic displays (made by Stark himself, no doubt). A black, oblong table sits in the center of the room, with leather, silver studded swivel chairs positioned around it.

“How many are there?” Tony asks, looking first at Kronos, then at Nathan. “How much time do we have?”

“There are six Infinity Stones in total,” Kronos says. “Thanos already has three –the Space stone, which was contained by the Tesseract, the Reality stone and the Power stone. Your colleague, Vision—” he gestures to the android “—is in possession of the Mind Stone already, and Stephen Strange has the Time Stone. Our agents have been unable to confirm the whereabouts of the Soul Stone, but we’re certain that Thanos doesn’t have it.”

“Yet,” Tony adds, tone pessimistic.

“As far as time goes, we have a few days at most,” Nathan says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Maybe a week, if we’re lucky.”

Tony grimaces. “That doesn’t bode well for rebuilding international relations on a dime. Or team morale for that matter.”

“Sort it out,” Nathan gravels out. “We’ve got bigger issues.”

“We won’t have time for issues if we can’t even pull a team together,” Tony snaps.

“If it helps…” Kronos withdraws a flash drive from his jacket pocket and holds it out to Tony. “The evidence of Thanos’s collection of the stones and his plans to come here.”

Tony accepts the flash drive. He turns it over in his fingers a couple times –no doubt mentally comparing the drive to the technology he’s created—then pockets it. “And Xavier’s on board with all this?”

You blink when you realize everyone’s staring at you. “Uh –yes. He’s contacting Erik Lensherr for some additional support, and the rest of the X-Men are ready to take on Thanos as well.”

“Great.” Tony stares down at the table for a moment, expression slightly melancholy but otherwise inscrutable, but then he snaps back to his usual self. “Good meeting. I’ll text you with the details.”

“Ooh, does that mean we’re trading numbers?” Wade gasps, pressing his hands on either side of his face. “I’ll put you on my favorites list.”

“I’ll contact Xavier,” Tony amends, shooting Wade a slightly harried look.

“We’ll be ready,” you assure him, at a loss for what else to say as you hook your arm around Wade’s to keep him from messing with the holographic display system.

“Vision will escort you out,” Pepper says with a polite smile and nod.

“I’ll make you a friendship bracelet, Tony the Tiger!” Wade calls as you and Nathan gently usher him towards the door. “Wait –stop shoving me! I need to get his wrist size!”

“Later, gorgeous,” Nate says with a barely suppressed smile.

Under any other circumstances, you’d laugh, but the stony foreboding weighing down your gut makes it too hard to even muster up a chuckle –especially when you catch Tony slumping down into one of the conference room chairs with a despairing expression on his face. You force yourself to focus on getting Wade out of the Avenger’s headquarters without stealing anything –though that does little to calm your swirling thoughts. How in the hell are we gonna pull this off?

***

“Are you okay?”

You sigh, instinctively wriggling back against Piotr’s chest as he lays down behind you. “Define ‘okay.’”

It’s nearly midnight now. Between contacting other allies for help –Nathan had you all bodysliding around New York for the better part of the day to reach out to the Hell’s Kitchen figures—and learning up about Thanos’s army and what could be expected in a confrontation against him, you didn’t get home until well after dinner.

You’re in bed now, too tired for anything else. You stare out the windows that overlook the balcony, purposefully trying to keep your mind blank so you don’t grow overwhelmed by the chaos buzzing in your brain.

Because this is insane. This is beyond mutant trafficking or petty grievances between groups of mutant rivals or even being gunned down by the mafia. This is beyond abusive parents, groups of hateful bigots, or anti-mutant legislators.

It’s –quite literally—the fate of the entire world. The entire galaxy. Based on Nathan’s reports of the future, half of all life is wiped out. People, animals, plants –all gone, dissolved into piles of ash… and for what? So some egomaniac can have his moment of glory?

Your stomach curdles when you even try to contemplate a life without Piotr.

“Hey.” Piotr draws you in close when you start crying. “Tische, myshka. Everything is okay.”

“But it’s not.” You sniff, wiping at your eyes with your sleeve. “Nothing about this is fucking okay, Piotr. Someone’s gonna wipe out half of the damn universe because he wants to jerk off to it later.”

“He has to go through us, first,” Piotr reminds you as he presses soft, sweet kisses against your cheek.

“We don’t have the numbers,” you point out bleakly. “We don’t have the ammunition. We don’t have the time to make a solid plan, or to prepare any extra defenses, or—”

Piotr hugs you tight. He kisses the top of your head. His hand strokes up and down your arm in an attempt to soothe you.

You grip his other hand, holding him close to you. You focus on how warm and solid he is. How wonderful he is and how lovely your life is with him. “I love you, Piotr.”

“And I love you, Y/N.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and cry some more.

***

The call comes in at five thirty in the morning.

“Stark’s brought around the other Avengers and Wakanda,” Nathan says, sounding far more alert than you ever will at this godforsaken hour. “We’re lifting off at seven.”

“Roger that,” you manage while Piotr turns on the bedside lamp and blinks the sleep out of his eyes. “We’ll be ready.” You set down your phone when the call ends, then groan and drop your head into your pillow. Why can’t the end of the world ever happen in the afternoon?

***

The Blackbird jets are loaded to maximum capacity. Aside from carrying the X-Men and the X-Force exclusive members, you’re also ferrying the Hell’s Kitchen vigilantes, Piotr’s family and Allison, your uncle and his team, and the younger children and their parents to Wakanda for safe-keeping (your uncle’s reasoning was that an enemy of the institute might notice the sudden lack of protection and decide to attack the younger, more vulnerable students and their families for vengeance, so it was better to be safe than sorry).

You keep close to Piotr or to the cockpit, but there’s still no avoiding the tense, cramped feeling.

You’re not the only “birds” in the sky, either. It’s practically a whole convoy, flying out to Wakanda in what might’ve been a formation if Wade didn’t occasionally grab the control and try to do a “barrel roll.” Magneto and his forces are flying in their own airship, while the Avengers are leading their pack in Tony’s custom, “cutting edge of technology” jets.

You watch the small fleet of jets that belong to the Avengers, lips pursed into a tight line. Your gaze darts over to the navigation board every few seconds, tracking your miniscule progress across the Atlantic Ocean towards Wakanda.

There’s a heavy sigh behind you, and then an even heavier pair of arms settle around your shoulders. “Myshka. You should rest.”

You “hmm” softly to let Piotr know you heard him, but you don’t step away from the cockpit door.

He kisses the top of head and starts gently rubbing your neck with his thumbs. “Will be several hours before arrival, dorogoy. There is nothing you can do until then.”

“It feels like wasting time,” you murmur back –because, naturally, Piotr’s seen to the heart of the issue already. “We’ve got so much to do.”

“And we can do nothing until we arrive in Wakanda.” Piotr kisses your temple, then gently nudges you away from the cockpit. “Come sit with me, lyublyu. You will need full energy when we land.”

And that, above all else, is the only reason you let Piotr usher you over to the nearest seat.

You crawl into his lap once he sits, curling up in his arms. You lay your head on his shoulder and let his warmth combined with the gentle thrum of the jet’s sonic engines lull you to sleep.

***

Wakanda is simultaneously everything and nothing like what you expected.

There’s a force shield that surrounds the inner part of the country that gives way as the convoy of ships pass through it. It almost seems to shimmer out of view before revealing an elegant, shining palace and curved, glimmering towers that comprise the larger part of the city. Lush jungle and towering, ice-capped mountains border the city, split by a winding river and rushing waterfalls.

It almost looks too beautiful to be real.

The awe-inducing visuals and technology don’t stop as the convoy flies out to a glittering, black glass structure that, on the navigation board, is labeled as the lab of Princess Shuri. The convoy swoops around to a massive hangar at the base of the building, landing just inside on the polished stone and metal floor.

Waiting for all of you in the hangar is King T’Challa Udaku; he’s wearing a black robe embroidered with silver thread and a vibrant kente scarf, and generally looks every bit as poised and unflappable as he did in the UN interviews. He’s flanked by his Dora Milaje soldiers –who are undeniably badass with their armor and spears, and you catch Ellie, Yukio, and Kitty all staring at the women in awe—and his partner, Nakia, and his sister, Princess Shuri.

Tony and Professor Xavier handle the introductions with the King, which lets you stretch and take in the hangar and throngs of superheroes. You recognize a few of them –Captain America aka Steve Rogers, Ant-Man aka Scott Lang and his entourage --including a man with dark hair styled like Elvis that you recall seeing in some sort of news interview a while back and a young woman with curly brown hair and warm eyes that’s holding his hand-- and War Hero ,aka James Rhodes, aka Tony’s best friend and “work wife”—but some of the entourage members are new to you.

You take a moment to stretch out your back –sleeping in Piotr’s lap isn’t the worst quality rest you’ve ever had, but given the configurations of the jet seats it was a little cramped—and admire the glimmering, inlaid lights on the hangar ceiling. Swanky.

“We have space prepared for the upcoming preparations and hosting all of you,” T’Challa says, voice cutting through the din of the crowd with ease. “If you would all follow Princess Shuri, please.”

Shuri smiles, then motions for everyone to follow her out of the hangar.

Half of the Dora Milaje break away from the formation, keeping a protective line between the princess and everyone else.

You fall into stride alongside your husband, well-practiced by now at matching your steps to his long stride.

***

The “prepared space” winds up being three massive rooms, each with smaller rooms sectioned around the main spaces, a kitchen-slash-rec area that joins the three massive rooms in the center, and three large, communal style bathrooms with multiple stalls for toilets and showers. The main rooms have several long, workstation style tables at them, with some beds stationed at the fringes, and the smaller rooms function only as bedrooms, mostly for the families with kids and the handful of couples present.

“This interface,” Princess Shuri says as she taps on a small disk embedded into the wall, “will let you contact security and staff if you have questions or need to speak with someone. There’s one in each room, for easy access. It will begin glowing and beeping if someone’s trying to send a call to you; you answer by pressing the base,” she explains, demonstrating on the disk.

“We’re expecting another group of people,” Tony pipes up. “Strange is collecting some of our allies from the South Eastern Quadrant. They should be here in the next sixteen hours, give or take.”

Shuri nods. “We’ll contact you when they arrive.” She offers the group a magnanimous nod and smile, then strides out the hall you all entered through, flanked by the Dora Milaje soldiers.

For a moment, no one moves. You all stand around, hesitating as you all try to take in the new scenery and space.

Alex moves first. She sighs, then grabs her duffel and strides towards the nearest workroom. “No point in waiting.”

Her initiative seems to jolt everyone else out of their daze. Everyone sections off, largely sticking with the groups of their original affiliation.

You amble alongside Piotr, peering around the workroom as you try to decide where to set your pack. Here goes nothing.

***

We’re staring down the apocalypse, you muse as you watch everyone set up shop, and it’s all coming down to sewing machines.

It’d come as a shock when Alexandra had lugged the sleek, white machine out of its carrying case. She’d set it on one of the tables, then lifted bolts of thick, rugged Kevlar out of one of her duffels next. Thread, scissors, measuring tape, and gridded cutting boards follow the Kevlar—

And then the sewing machine jammed as soon as Alex turned it on.

“Ty meshok der'ma,” Alex mutters under her breath as she fiddles with the internal mechanisms of the sewing machine. She glares at the gears, grumbling and swearing while she prods at them with a pair of tweezers. “Kakogo khrena tvoya problema?”

The situation seems mundane in its inanity.

The end of the damn world, and we’re being thwarted by twenty pounds of plastic and metal.

“Day mne poprobovat'.” Nikolai crouches down next to his wife. He adjusts the reading glasses perched on his nose, then aims a small flashlight at the interior of the machine. He murmurs and tuts in Russian while prodding at the machine –and then he makes a soft noise of exclamation. “Broken needle. Pryamo tam.”

“Sukin syn.” Alex uses her telekinesis to draw out the metal shard, then lets out an exasperated sigh and spreads her arms when the machine finally makes the proper start up noises. “Thank you.”

“Be nice,” Nikolai chides her with a teasing grin. “Is uncomfortable, having metal stuck in organs. You would not want to work either.”

“I’ve had metal in my organs,” Alex grumbles as she gets her sewing machine configured. “I still managed.” She smirks when Nikolai laughs, then kisses her husband’s cheek before motioning for you to approach. “Come here, ptitsa. I want to reinforce your suit; I need your measurements.”

You round the table, shucking off your sweatshirt so Alex can measure your torso. “Is there anything I need to do?”

“Just hold still, malenkiy,” Alex murmurs as she runs her tape measure around your waist.

“I make no promises,” you joke.

Alex snorts, then moves her measuring tape up to your ribcage.

***

The waiting is, somehow, worse now.

At least on the plan there was a promise of a destination. A sense of the temporary, that you’d be up and moving and doing again within a few hours.

Unfortunately, reality is so often different from how you envision it, just as it is now. Because the reality of the situation is that there are only a limited number of people capable of helping. Nate and Tony are working with the Princess to configure weapons to fight Thanos’s forces, Hank and the healers are preparing a makeshift medical bay, Frank, Wade, Mikhail, and Neena are cleaning and checking guns, Alex, Piotr and Nikolai are taking turns working on fabricating armor for those who need it—

Leaving you with nothing to do. Aside from keeping those who are working well fed and hydrated and managing the kids, all you can do is sit and watch while everyone else prepares.

It’s agony. Your chest aches from stress, and your stomach’s churning so much you can barely choke food down at mealtimes. I need to help more. I need to do something, dammit.

It’s like being in line for random execution and having no idea whether you’re going to be shot or not.

You stay close to Piotr. You run food and snacks and drinks for anyone who needs it. You help manage the kids when the need arises –but since most of their parents are here, the incidents are far and few between.

You sit. And you wait.

It’s all you can do.

***

“Absolutely not.”

“You need to be reasonable.”

“I am. It’s perfectly reasonable to keep a fourteen-year-old off a fucking battlefield!”

Alex sighs. She leans back in her seat and raises an eyebrow at her eldest daughter. “Normally I would agree, but I don’t think you’ll have much say in the matter. Your ability to control her is notably lacking.”

Artemis huffs and crosses her arms over her chest. “You try reining in a teenager who’s realized there’s no consequences to her actions.”

“I’m not judging, merely observing,” Alex assures her daughter. “But, at any rate, it’s not unreasonable to predict that she’ll join the fray at some point. Body armor is a necessity.”

“It’s an invitation! She’ll take it as permission!”

“Artemis?” Allison sticks her head into the room, then strides over to her mentor-slash-surrogate mother. “Is everything okay? Who’s getting permission to do what?”

“No one is,” Artemis grumbles, even as she holds her arm out so the teen can lean against her side. “Especially not you.”

Allison lets out a disgusted sigh and rolls her eyes. “I already told you—”

“You’re not fighting.”

“I can handle myself!” Allison snaps. She jerks away from Tatianna, scowling. “You’re treating me like a baby!”

“Compared to me, you are a baby,” the older woman points out drily.

“It’s not your burden to bear,” Alex interjects, fixing the testy teen with an even –though not harsh—stare. “Teenagers shouldn’t have to fight for the future of the world. That’s for adults to handle.”

“No one gets to decide,” Allison grits out, “what my burdens are. And this isn’t about ‘should’ or ‘shouldn’t.’”

The corner of Alex’s mouth twitches. She looks up at Artemis, brows raised.

Artemis sighs. She tips her head back, staring up at the ceiling, then looks down at Allison. “You need body armor to keep you safe. That does not mean, however, that you’ll be joining us in the fight against Thanos.”

Allison sweeps her tongue along the inside of her cheek. She crosses her arms and cocks her head to the side. “Pretty sure you don’t get to decide that.”

“Pretty sure you should listen to me,” Artemis fires back, “since I have more experience and am telling you that it’s too much for you to handle.” She lets out an exasperated breath when Allison rolls her eyes, then waves her hand dismissively as if to say ‘I tried.’ “Get her set up.”

Alex nods, then waves Allison over. “Alright, malenkiy. Let’s get you sorted.”

***

“Are you asleep?”

“Nyet.” Piotr rolls over, drapes an arm over you, and kisses your forehead. “I would ask you the same, but…”

You manage a small chuckle. “Pretty obvious answer, yeah.”

The two of you are in one of the private rooms –if only because (aside from your status as married) it has a bed big enough to accommodate Piotr. There’s a small window that overlooks a cavern beneath the lab. Dim, blue light seeps through the glass pane, but it’s not enough to properly illuminate the room.

Piotr’s fingers skim over your upper arm. “Why are you not sleeping, myshka?”

“Can’t,” you admit, voice wavering. You take a deep breath through your nose and try to calm yourself. “I just… I can’t handle not doing anything. It gives me too much time to think about what might happen.”

Piotr croons gently, drawing you in closer so he can tuck you against his chest. He cradles your head with one massive head. “Dorogoy. You know such things are not good for you.”

“Yeah, I know,” you grumble, eyes stinging with unshed tears. “Doesn’t mean that knowledge stops my brain any.”

“Ya znayu,” Piotr murmurs as he kisses your temple. “But everything is going to be alright, myshka.”

“Except it really might not be,” you argue, voice shaking. You grip the material of his shirt, as though he might be wrenched away from you at any moment and whisked away into the wind. “It really might not, Piotr.”

Your husband doesn’t say anything in response to that. He merely holds you closer still and strokes his fingers through your hair.

You press your forehead against his chest and start weeping quietly.

***

The second day is much like the first –a slow, agonizing crawl punctuated by overwhelming anxiety and exhaustion.

You linger at the table where Nate, Tony, and Ellie are modifying guns, handing the three various tools and materials when they ask for it. You watch their progress numbly, brain devoid of anything other than wordless worry.

At least, you watch until Nate texts Piotr to come get you.

“Davay, myshka,” your husband coaxes as he lifts you off your stool. He grunts slightly as he shifts you into a bridal-style hold, then carries you away from the table and out of the room. “Let’s have lunch.”

“But—”

“Is important to stay fed and hydrated.”

“—I was helping.” You peer past Piotr’s arm –then sigh when Nathan gives you a sympathetic, concerned smile and waves you along. “Baby—”

“Just for little bit.” Piotr sets you down when you ask, but he keeps a hand on your shoulder, just in case. “Is not good to sit and stew in anxiety.”

You drop your gaze to the floor. “You can’t prove anything.”

Piotr lifts his hand from your shoulder and cradles your cheek. He strokes his thumb against your skin, waiting until you look up at him before speaking again. “Come have lunch with me, moya lyubov’,” he says with an adoring smile (which you’re certain is a deliberate, tactical move on his part to make sure you don’t try and argue, and dammit if it isn’t working). “I would enjoy your company.”

You scuff the toe of your sneaker against the floor, but ultimately acquiesce. “Alright. I guess I should take a break.”

***

The snooping starts after lunch, while Alex is chewing Frank out for spray-painting his bullet proof vest.

“What, are you looking to ruin perfectly good Kevlar?” Alex gripes as she tosses Frank’s “Punisher” vest aside. “You want to break down the material? Get shot out like some schmuck because you decided to be an artist?”

“It’s strategic,” Frank argues with a good-natured, crooked grin. “Keeps my enemies’ line of sight trained on where I have the most protection.”

Alex nods and makes a sarcastic noise of assent. “‘Strategic.’ Is that what it is? Ya ne mogu v eto poverit'. V moye vremya my nazyvali strategiyu pobedoy, a ne stavili svoyu grebanuyu vizitnuyu kartochku na kazhdoye sovershennoye nami proklyatoye ubiystvo. Get your ass over here, drama boy.” She scoffs and starts measuring Frank’s chest and shoulders. “‘Strategiya,’” she scoffs. “What a load of horse shit.”

“Akh akh,” Nikolai tuts as he walks into the room with a plate of food and glass of water. “What is happening here?”

“I’m pretty sure I upset the apple cart, sir,” Frank says, unabashed.

Nikolai chuckles while Alexandra brings up to speed, ranting in irritated Russian. He sets the plate and glass on the table next to his wife, kisses her head, then ambles back out to the kitchen—

And that’s when you notice it. Or, rather, her.

Natasha Romanoff, aka the Black Widow. Renowned spy, assassin, weapons and espionage expert, and former member of the Avengers if the debacle surrounding the Sokovia Accords is to be believed.

She’s sitting at the kitchen counter on barstool, tapping away at her phone –which isn’t inherently suspicious, but her line of sight lets her look directly into the room you’re all situated in and—

She’s watching Alex.

At first you think she might be watching Frank (which, fair enough, having a mass murderer, somewhat unstable vigilante around is a reasonable cause for caution). But when Frank gets up and walks out (probably to go find Karen), Natasha doesn’t even move. Her gaze –when she’s not looking at her phone—stays fixed on Alexandra while she works at her sewing machine.

For once, you’re grateful Piotr is as large as he is; he makes a great hiding spot to do countersurveillance from.

Natasha approaches slowly, but deliberately. She talks to someone on her phone –whether she’s faking or not doesn’t matter to you, because she still uses it to get off the barstool and amble around while she’s talking. Then, she has a conversation with Captain Rogers, which she uses to get a few feet closer to the doorway.

At some point, you’re not certain if she realizes you’re watching her, only because she gives up the pretense of trying to hide her snooping entirely. She leans against the doorframe, watching Alex intently while she marks, pins, and cuts out fabric.

It’s Illyana who has enough of the whole thing first. Three minutes into Natasha standing in the door way, the blonde sighs, sets her phone down on the work table, and glares up at the red head. “Kakogo khrena ty khochesh?”

Natasha purses her lips slightly. She acknowledges Illyana with a brief glance, then turns her focus back to Alex. “Alexandra.”

“Natalia,” Alex says by way of greeting, not even bothering to look up from her work. “Are you here to help, or are you here to waste my time?”

She grimaces, but recovers and smiles politely. “It’s been a long time.”

“So, you’re here to waste my time,” Alex surmises as she pins a pattern to a piece of heavy black Kevlar.

Natasha swallows reflexively, then turns on her heel and walks away.

***

Half an hour later, it’s Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes’s turn.

The two supersoldiers are far less covert than Agent Romanoff. They stand in the middle of the rec room, a few feet away from the door, and don’t make any attempt to hide their conversation or the fact that they’re watching Alex (and, to some extent, her children and Nikolai as well).

Illyana says something to her mother a few times, but Alex waves her off –and, in general, seems unbothered. “U nas yest' rabota, snezhinka. U nas yest' rabota.”

“Did you know him?” you ask, later, when the Rasputin kids are out of the room. “The Winter Soldier?”

You’ve heard enough through the grapevine to know about the basics of the man’s story –captured by Hydra, experimentation, brainwashing, being coerced into murdering.

(It all sounds chillingly familiar.)

“We crossed paths,” Alex admits with a shrug. She slides a piece of ceramic armor plating inside a Kevlar pouch, then starts sewing the pouch shut. “Overlap was common back in the day.”

“Do you think he remembers you?” you murmur, glancing out at the kitchen (fortunately, Rogers and Barnes are gone for now).

Alex pauses. She purses her lips, then shrugs and resumes working. “I don’t know. He went through a lot with the forced mind wipes. There’s really no way of knowing.”

“Are you going to be in trouble if he does remember you?”

Alex huffs and favors you with a gentle smile. “I’ve gotten out of worse, ptitsa. Don’t worry so much.”

You say that like it’s easy, you think while the knot in your stomach coils tighter.

***

There’s a brief reprieve around dinner. You even manage to relax a little, smiling and chuckling as Piotr and Mikhail bicker and generally irritate each other as much as humanly possible.

Work starts up once more as soon as everyone’s done eating. You nestle yourself against Piotr’s side, relaxed via the virtue of being too tired to be stressed—

And then Tony Stark walks in.

Or perhaps “walk” isn’t the right term. He moves with an air of grandeur and utter self-assurance –which, even with your limited exposure to Tony Stark, you can tell is a “brand standard” for him. He tosses an apple up and down in one hand as he breezes along, expression blasé to the point of looking disinterested as he strides up to the table where Alexandra works.

If it weren’t for Natasha, Captain Rogers, and Sergeant Barnes scoping out the Rasputin matriarch earlier, you would’ve pegged Stark’s visit as entirely coincidental.

“What’s your deal?” Tony asks, leaning against the table next to where Alex is stationed at her sewing machine.

No pretense. No niceties. No attempt at subtlety.

Alex’s lips quirk into an annoyed grimace. She looks up and over the top of her machine for a moment, staring at Nikolai (likely trying to find any scrap of his infinite patience for herself), then lowers her gaze once more and says, “Usually, it’s not answering vague, pointless questions asked by nosey individuals.”

“You’ve got half my team twisted up just by being here,” Tony continues, unruffled. “I’ve seen Romanoff stare down the Hulk on a rampage without flinching. What about you is so special that you make her nervous?”

“Interesting,” Alex comments, almost to herself. “And here I thought, after the Berlin incident, your ‘team’ was largely disbanded. Something about ‘not agreeing with your leadership.’”

Tony’s face twitches, mouth briefly stretching into a pained grimace before he smooths it back out. “You don’t exist.”

“Everyone’s concept of self is different,” Alex mutters as she rips out a crooked seam on an armor pouch.

“There’s no record of your birth. Or your parents, for that matter. Your marriage license has no given maiden name. No history of education, doctor’s visits, driver’s license –nothing until you turned twenty-four.” He takes a bite of his apple, swallows, then says, “People don’t just ‘poof’ into existence as full grown adults. It doesn’t happen.”

“Perhaps,” Alex retorts as she resews the faulty seam, “you are just not very good at finding things.”

“I can find anything.”

“Except, it would seem, a way to keep from trying my patience.”

Tony watches her for a moment longer –then, when she doesn’t say anything, he turns and starts striding out of the room. “I’m going to figure out what’s up with you. There aren’t any secrets that can hide from my A.I.”

Alex doesn’t dignify his departure with a response –but her eyelid twitches as she continues her sewing.

You look up at Piotr, only to find he’s watching Nikolai. You look over at the Rasputin patriarch, and your heart sinks when you see the worried expression on his face.

Nick sighs, then stands and rounds the table. He ambles up behind his wife, drapes his arms around her shoulders, and kisses the top of her head before he starts murmuring to her in quiet, loving Russian.

You lean against Piotr’s side, giving him a reassuring squeeze even though the only thing you feel is disquieted. You force yourself to take a deep breath and relax your jaw as fear starts crawling up your spine once more. One thing at a time. One thing at a time, that’s all you can do.

Except, it seems, when everything decides to happen at once.

***

Meeting the Norse god of thunder is… intense.

Though, that may have to do with the entourage of people he brings with him.

Around three in the morning, Dr. Strange shows up with the remaining allies –Thor, god of thunder, and his brother Loki, god of magic, Bruce Banner aka the Hulk, a woman by the name of Carol, and a group that calls themselves the “Guardians of the Galaxy” (which happens to include a talking raccoon and a sentient tree).

“Just when you thought, like, it couldn’t get weirder,” Kitty mutters to you as she stares at the newest arrivals.

You nod. Granted, your usual metric for all things weird is Wade, who has basically explored every avenue of zany, bizarre, and disturbing—

But yeah, this is pretty fucking weird.

“Where do we stand in preparations for the arrival of Thanos?” Thor asks Tony.

“We’ve got most of the busywork done,” Tony says, outlining the weapons upgrades and the armor work that’s been done. “We waited for major planning until we had everyone here and better intel.”

Thor nods, then gestures to two women standing with the “Guardians of the Galaxy,” one with green skin and dark hair and the other with blue skin and cybernetic enhancements. “This is Gamora and Nebula, daughters of Thanos. They’ll be able to provide information on the strength and size of his forces.”

“Good,” Steve pipes up from where he’s standing with Sam Wilson and Sergeant Barnes. “The sooner we have a plan, the better.”

“It can wait until we’ve slept,” Alex decides, voice crisp. “We won’t come up with anything good while we’re fried.”

Tony blinks, then scowls. “Thanos could be here as soon as this coming morning.”

“Then we’ll be doubly fucked if we’ve stayed up all night trying to scrape together a plan,” Alex replies, unmoved. She crosses her arms when Tony glares at her. “The younger and less experienced of us need rest if this is going to work.”

“I’m with the lady,” Quill pipes up, brushing past Tony. He gives Stark a smile that, if you had to wager, is supposed to be charming but just comes off as arrogant. “I think you’ll find that we… don’t really roll with plans. It’s not our style.”

Alex stares at Quill for a moment, expression vastly unimpressed. She sighs, blinks slowly, shakes her head, then turns on her heel and strides back to the room she’s been sharing with Nick. “Absolutely not. I’m going back to bed.”

As if waiting for a cue, everyone else disperses, muttering about being tired and “needing an IV drip of espresso.”

You shuffle off with Piotr, hand in hand, shivering slightly from nerves. Please just let this go well.

***

“Both the Chitauri and the Klyntaar forces number into the tens of thousands. The Chitauri have sentient airships capable of carrying infantry forces while wreaking their own havoc, in addition to chariots that can carry up to five marksmen at a time. He also has tanks the size of this building that can demolish anything in their path.”

Everyone is gathered in one of the main work rooms. A majority of the people present hang back at the fringes, content to watch while Tony, Captain Rogers, King T’Challa, Alexandra, your uncle, Thor, Quill, and Natasha hash out a strategy.

“He’s trying to overwhelm us with sheer numbers,” Steve says in response to Gamora’s information.

“It might work,” Natasha murmurs, gaze focused on the worktable in front of her. “We don’t have near enough firepower to chip away at that many grunts.”

“Not if we play our cards right,” Alex says, crossing her arms over her chest.

“There’s also our siblings,” Gamora adds with a pained grimace.

Off to the side, Nebula scoffs. “They’re hardly family.”

“Thanos collected beings throughout the galaxy to serve him,” Gamora explains. “To act as his eyes and ears and eliminate his foes. Aside from Nebula and I, he has four other ‘children.’ They’ll be acting as his generals and commanders in the fight –and helping him track down and capture the final infinity stones.”

Tension ripples through the room.

“What do we know about these Infinity Stones?” Alex asks after a moment of fraught silence.

“The stones were originally created by the Celestials,” Loki pipes up from where he’s leaning against a wall. “Their magical properties are tied to aspects of the universe –time, space, reality, and so on. Only beings of immense power can wield them without severe consequences.”

“Thanos has the gauntlet that accompanies the stones,” Thor adds. “With it, once he assembles all six stones, he’ll be able to use them simultaneously.”

“He wants to wipe out half of all life on Earth,” Gamora says, voice wavering slightly. “That’s been his single goal ever since I’ve known him.”

“All men want to be gods,” your uncle jokes half-heartedly.

“Can the stones be broken?” Alex asks.

Loki chuckles, incredulous. “These are magical tools created by the most powerful beings ever known to the galaxy… and you want to break them?”

She shrugs. “Best not to overlook the simplest solution.”

“I’m taking that as a ‘no,’” Steve interjects. “So, if we can’t destroy them, how do we fight them?”

“The only thing powerful enough to combat the effects of the Infinity Stones are the Infinity Stones,” Loki answers.

“And we only have two,” Natasha surmises, expression drawn and grim.

“Three.”

Everyone looks up and turns when Illyana speaks.

She smirks, tilting her chin up when Natasha meets her gaze. “We have three Infinity Stones.”

“Vision has the mind stone, and Dr. Strange has the time stone,” Kronos argues, shaking his head. “The soul stone is still missing.”

Illyana’s smirk broadens. She lifts her hand, curling it as if she was holding something.

A sword materializes in her hand –and in the center of the sword, small but unmistakable, is a glowing orange gem.

Your uncle’s eyes widen. “Holy shit.”

“Three,” Illyana repeats, looking supremely confident and self-satisfied. “Unless there is elusive seventh stone?”

Loki smiles ruefully, shaking his head. “The Goddess of Limbo pulls through. Well done.”

“Okay, but Vision’s stone is in his head and Strange has his stone in a necklace around his neck,” Tony interjects, gesturing to each person in turn.

“Amulet,” Dr. Strange mutters under his breath.

“Your stone disappears if you’re not holding it,” Tony continues, pointing to the sword as Illyana dematerializes it once more. “What’s stopping Thanos from finding it and taking it?”

“I am only person who can use Soul Sword,” Illyana says, arching her eyebrows. “It is bound to me until the next in my line is ready to take my place.”

“My family has been bound to Limbo’s magicks for generations,” Nikolai clarifies when Tony starts sputtering. “Illyana is the keeper of the sword, which means only she can call upon it. Thanos would need our blood to have access to it.”

Tony grimaces. “Still risky.”

“Better than nothing,” your uncle fires back.

“We have a shot of taking down Thanos with the other three Infinity Stones in our camp,” Steve says, planting his hands against the worktable's surface. “Without them, we’re as good as sunk.”

“Well then,” Alex says, smirking. “Let’s make sure we don’t waste our opportunity.”

***

“For the love of god, stop talking.”

“I’m just saying,” Quill starts, spreading his hands in a defensive gesture.

“You’re not saying shit!” Alex snaps, lifting her head from her hands to glare at him. “You’re just wasting our time!”

Once the planning started, a large portion of the crowd dispersed to help wrap up the last of the weapons modification. The leaders from each faction stayed behind –Tony, T’Challa, Steve, Natasha, Thor, Peter Quill, Xavier, your uncle, Alexandra, and Erik—to plan, along with Gamora, Nebula, and Loki so they could offer up information on Thanos, his forces, and the Infinity Stones.

You’d also hung back, since you didn’t have the skills necessary to do the weapons modification. If all I can do is sit around like a nervous lump, may as well do it where I won’t be in the way.

“This plan just isn’t our style,” Quill argues, either immune or completely ignorant to the exasperated sighs and death glares the others are giving him. “We like to take things looser, add a little pizazz.”

“How many times did your parents drop you as a baby?” your uncle asks, staring Quill down. “No, I’m serious,” he adds when Quill glares back at him and opens his mouth to argue. “I’m genuinely at a loss for how you can be this fucking dense.”

“We’re up against overwhelming numbers and powers no one here has ever seen, let alone fought against,” Natasha adds. “We need to allocate our resources carefully if we want even a chance at victory. The three wave strategy is our best chance.”

“Okay,” Quill says, pressing his hands together. “I think we just all need to relax—”

“You’ll be pretty fucking relaxed when I gut you,” Alex grumbles as she pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Look, the way I see it, Thanos can’t take us all at once!” Quill reasons. “If we hit him with everything we have—”

“We have to survive his armies, too,” Tony adds, words clipped. “Or there won’t be any of us for Thanos to be hit by.”

“No.” Alex glares at Quill when he keeps trying to argue, startling him into silence. “Look at them.” She points at Gamora and Nebula. “These are your friends, da? Your teammates and companions, da? This is their abuser we’re facing. If we lose, what do you think happens to them? Do you think someone that wants to destroy half of all life will have mercy for them? Hm? If you care about them, you pick the plan that has the best shot of ensuring their safety. Got it?”

Quill swallows reflexively. He stares down at the holographic display of the future battlefield, jaw working. He exhales through his nose, slow and stuttered, then nods. “Alright. We… we do the three wave strategy.”

“So glad we can agree,” Alex says, turning her attention back to the battlefield schematic. “Now, we were discussing where to put our snipers…”

***

“—I need both their arms. Trust me, it’s the only way this is gonna work.”

“Look, I’m normally all for a little dismemberment, but I don’t think forming our own amputee league is gonna net us a win here.”

You shake your head as Wade banters back and forth with the talking racoon –whose name is Rocket, apparently—then look over at Nathan. “How long have they been at this?”

“Going on three hours now,” Nate replies. A soft, endeared smile flits across his face when he looks at Wade, but his expression sobers when he resumes his soldering job. “How’s the final plan looking?”

“Everyone but Quill was leaning towards a three-wave tactic.”

Nathan grunts. “Yeah, he seems like a jackass.”

“Alex threatened to gut him.”

“Hey!” Wade shouts, sounding genuinely wounded. “No disemboweling without me!”

“Quill wanted to do an ‘all for one’ attack directly on Thanos.” You sit down next to your dad, studying his face while he works. “You’ve actually fought against these people before. Do… do you think dividing our forces up will actually work?”

“The issue is the land and air forces,” Nathan says, shaking his head. He attaches a power unit to the base of a rifle, then starts welding the compartment shut. “This time doesn’t have the necessary shielding to repel the Chitauri and Klyntaar forces for that long. We’ll have to fight the grunts; holding some of our people back to make sure we have someone to take on Thanos is our best bet.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean we’ll win, though,” you point out.

He offers you a melancholy half-smile. “That’s war, kid.”

Your heart sinks further. “Do we even have a chance?”

“Statistics says we do,” Nathan says he strips a piece of wire before threading it into the gun.

“That’s not what I asked.”

Nathan sighs. He looks at you for a long moment, then says, “I think we have the best shot possible with what we have right here, right now.”

You gulp, then nod. It’s still not technically an answer to your question –let alone a positive one—but…

You’ve learned that, sometimes, it better not to dig at these sorts of questions at all.

***

“We’re dividing our forces into thirds.”

You’re all crammed into the rec room post dinner. In the center of the room, by the counter, Tony, Steve, Natasha, and Alex are addressing the crowd in turns.

“The first wave will consist of high stamina fighters and snipers,” Steve says. “There’s a shield system that extends several hundred kilometers around the lab’s perimeter. Wakandan soldiers will join the line of snipers who will pick off any of Thanos’s forces that make it through the shields.”

“We’ll also have any fighters with enhanced stamina on standby, in case there’s a larger breach,” Alex adds. “Their job will be to protect the sniper line from being overrun by the enemy forces.”

“The second wave will be air support,” Tony continues. “Myself, Rhodey, Wilson, and any flying mutants will head out when the Chitauri airships come in. Princess Shuri has a fleet of attack drones at the ready, which can be manned from headquarters in the lab. HQ will have a complete look at the battlefield; all intel will be coming from them during the fight.”

“Third wave is everyone else, save for Illyana, Dr. Strange, and Vision,” Natasha says. “We’ll join the fray when the second wave of Thanos’s forces arrive. The final three” –she nods to Illyana, Dr. Strange, and Vision in turn—“will wait in central headquarters until Thanos arrives, to prevent early capture of the remaining Infinity Stones.”

“In the meantime,” Tony says, “we’re going overtime on modifying rifles to be sonic weapons. They’re more effective against the Klyntar forces than regular firearms. All hands on deck. If you can’t solder, you can run supplies back and forth and help perform diagnostic tests at the firing range. Clear?”

Everyone nods, then breaks off to start working on constructing and testing more “awesome guns.”

You slid your fingers between Piotr’s. Your heart’s in your throat, racing a mile a minute. Your mouth feels dry.

If you were the religious type, you’d start praying. As it is, you make a plea with the universe on the off chance it decides to listen to you –for once.

Please. Please just let this work.

***

“So… about the three-wave plan—”

Tony slams down the compartment piece he’d been working on against the table. He glares at Quill, face strained with barely constrained rage and impatience. “What the fuck is your deal?”

“It’s just not sitting well with me,” Quill continues, leaning against the table. “I’m more of a ‘solo moment’ style person. More of a lone wolf.”

You gape at him. “You… you work with a team of five!”

“I just think that there needs to be a more focused confrontation with Thanos. Y’know, for someone to challenge him, man to man—”

“Some get this idiot out of my face,” Tony snaps, looking around for anyone that might be willing to assist –or, at the very least, drag Quill out of the room by his jacket collar.

“You’re not listening to me!”

“You’re wasting my time!”

“Why does every problem come back to you?” Alex stalks into the work room, eyes glowing a dull shade of copper as irritation takes hold in her. She strides over to Quill, looking like a menace in black leather and Kevlar. “How much more of a nuisance can you possibly make yourself?”

“I’m just pointing out some flaws in the strategy!” Quill argues, holding up his hands in a defensive gesture. “I’m being the devil’s advocate!”

“You’re pointing out dick,” Agent Barton, alias Hawkeye, points out from the side (where he’s modifying some of his arrows to release sonic pulses).

“Look,” Quill presses on, ignoring Clint’s comment. “We need to make sure this thing is airtight—”

“We don’t have time for ‘airtight,’” Nathan growls, cybernetic eye flaring. “The goal is to survive, not to create perfection.”

“I really just think—”

Alex scowls –and then her hand snaps out and closes around Quill’s neck. She slams him against the edge of the table, sneering down at him while he coughs and claws –futilely—against her iron grip. “You’re past the point of being a nuisance. You’re a fucking liability.”

Quill wheezes, face slowly turning red.

“If I was paid every time a man like you told me how to do my job…” Her voice trails off, and she lets out a sardonic chuckle. “Let me make something clear to you, Peter Quill.” Her hand tightens around his neck, which makes some ominous creaking noises as she presses against layers of tissue, cartilage, and bone. “I am not about to have an asshole like you risk the lives of my children, the people who are putting their own lives on the line to protect the world, or the future of the damn universe. If you’re going to keep being a jackass about this…” She smirks. “I’ll kill you. I’ll do it right here, right now. I am not going to have a hazard like you on my team or on that battlefield.” She grins nastily, leaning in closer as Quill’s eyes bug out. “Best thing is, no one really knows you’re here. No tracks to cover, no family to pay off, no authorities to worry about. You’d be an unfortunate casualty in war. No one would fucking miss you.”

A chill runs down your spine. You gulp, stomach twisting as you look from Alex, to Quill, to Alex again. Is anyone going to stop her...

“I really don’t know how to make this any fucking clearer, but since you’ve proven to be thick-headed, I’ll summarize: you stray from the plan in any way, and you’re dead. Got it?”

Quill nods hastily. He gasps when Alex releases him, collapsing to the floor. He hacks and coughs, one hand rubbing at his throat while his skin slowly fades away from an angry magenta color.

“So glad we understand one another.” Alex smirks, then turns on her heel and strides out of the work room like nothing even happened.

You purse your lips, trembling while everyone goes back to work like nothing even happened. You try to focus on sorting pieces into containers for the fabricators to grab from, but with your shaking hands it’s near impossible. You duck your head, gritting your teeth together as your stomach churns angrily. I just want this all to be over.

***

The call comes in a couple hours later.

“We’ve got temporal disturbances outside the shield perimeter,” Kronos shouts while alarms blare overhead. “Thanos’s forces have arrived and are attempting to break through to our location.”

Your stomach drops as everyone starts scrambling. You grab your flight jacket and goggles, throwing them on haphazardly. You start running towards the hangar –then stop and switch directions. “Piotr!”

He pauses when he hears your voice, turning and catching you as you leap into his arms. He kisses you briefly –desperately—then pulls back and cups your face in his hands. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You give him a quick hug, then pull away and start sprinting towards the hanger where the rest of the air support is gathering. Tears sting your eyes, but you wipe them away and force down your fear and preemptive grief. Focus. You have to focus.

It’s time.

[starlessskies94]

Consequence (Joel Miller x OC)

Summary: What if Joel survived his injuries from the Abby and Fireflies attack but ends up with really bad amnesia. He can’t remember his wife, Ellie, or the Outbreak; only before. How will his family bring back the man they once knew?Pairing: Joel Miller x OC                                                                                      Note: An update? Could It be? After all this time?...Yes. It is I! I come with a thousand apologies for taking so long to update. I didn't plan for it be so long but with Covid and going back to work during Covid and family stuff, I just haven't had the time but I'm back my lovelies and I really hope this chapter doesn't disappoint :)

Chapter Seven 

Tommy woke up late for the first time in weeks; he didn’t often sleep in but given his late night chasing lost cattle through the town after they’d somehow managed to escape the paddocks; he figured he more than deserved it. Maria had woken him when she made to leave and insisted he stay put while she made a start on the morning checks. She kissed him goodbye and they promised to meet later for lunch together.

The morning air was crisp and fresh as he stepped down onto the path, his jacket zipped tight to fight off the dwindling cold. The snow had long since melted and there were clear telltale signs of Spring fast approaching in Jackson.

And while the cold wasn’t as biting as it had been, there was still the odd chill that needed to be shielded from with a layer or two.

It wouldn’t be long before they were preparing for a new harvest to grow throughout the year. The sacks of seeds and planting equipment appearing all over town as families began to prep the soil and start their planting as the wildflowers poked their heads through the ground to bask in the warming sunlight.

Tommy made his way through the streets heading straight for his brother’s house. It was still hard to believe that it had been a whole two months since Joel’s attack.

Two whole months since his sister in law had lost her husband; his niece, her father. And unfortunately for all of them; it didn’t seem like Joel was making any progress to getting his memories back. He tried to help of course but his brother, being the stubborn grump that he was, had only pushed his younger brother away, insisting he was capable of handling the trauma alone.

He hated seeing his brother struggling, especially when it seemed that some details were coming through. It was little things but it was better than nothing. The only problem was, it was things Joel seemed to dismiss without a second thought.

Tommy honestly believed if Joel focused on them, they’d help process bigger things. Though it certainly hadn’t helped matters that the older Miller had stopped going to his weekly check ups to help his mind improve. The head of the infirmary had voiced her concerns to Tommy a few days earlier. His constant dismissal and disregard for their importance to his slow recovery; not just frustrating the Doctor but also Tommy himself.

He just hoped he could talk some sense into his big brother.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He knocked but no answer greeted him as he stepped inside the house. It was quiet but clean. Each room meticulously organised and tidied to within an itch of its life. He figured this was what Joel must have been filling his days with over the past few weeks. The sound of muffled hammering caught his attention, leading him up the stairs to Joel’s workshop room. The door slightly ajar. Tommy had barely entered the room before Joel acknowledged him.  

“What do you want, Tommy?” Joel grunted without even bothering to turn around. Tommy just shrugged silently, his hands awkwardly stuffing into the front pockets of his jeans.

“Well good morning to you too, just stopped by to see how you’re doing.”

“As good as I can be I guess.” He muttered as he continued to work, never taking his eyes off the wood in his hands. It felt nice seeing his brother once again taking an interest in an old hobby that he had enjoyed before his injury. It felt like maybe they were finally heading in the right direction. But Tommy had to hold off, he didn’t want to push anymore than was necessary. He knew Joel well enough to know that if you pushed too far; Joel would only push back twice as hard. “Right, sorry... whatcha making?”   Joel hobbled back a little from the table, giving Tommy a better view of the work in question. The long neck and the four legs beginning to take shape made his heart skip. The older man had always had a talent; that was for certain. The horses he made were always magnificent. The wolves and the deer along with any other animal the people of Jackson had asked for; were always made with utmost care. And it seemed this work of art was no different.

“I think I meant for it to be a giraffe before... everything. Figured I might as well finish it. Hell if I know who it was supposed to be for.”

“Ellie.” Tommy whispered.  

“What?”

Tommy took a second for his brain to catch up with his words as he quickly cleared his throat and tried not to fidget too much. “It’s just...uh.. that it’s her birthday in a couple of months and she always liked giraffes, maybe it was meant for her?” He offered nervously. Joel just hummed casually. With a quick dismissive shake of his head and a sigh; he moved the half carved giraffe onto a nearby shelf along with his other unfinished projects. Turning to face his brother, his arm reaching out to grab his cane to steady his balance.

“Yeah, maybe...maybe Ada asked me to make it for her to give to Ellie as a gift.” He wondered out loud, stopping Tommy in his tracks.

“You talked to her?” He asked almost a little too quickly. Causing Joel to frown slightly in response at his brother’s unexplained eagerness.  

“Who Ada? Briefly, why? Am I supposed to know her or something?”

“You guys were...friends I guess…” Tommy replied weakly. He knew he had to be cautious here, baby steps. They were moving into uncharted territory when it came to Ada and Ellie. Joel had only just started to accept the life they had lived in Boston as smugglers and that was before he had even had the courage to bring up the Fireflies. He needed to steer clear of things deeper than that for now  and ease into the conversation he wanted to have. But his patience was starting to run thin. “Look, the reason I came by is because I was talking to Elizabeth and she said you’ve stopped going to your check ups.”  

“Oh not this again Tommy!” Joel snapped, his brother rolling his eyes in frustration as Joel hobbled away from his work space and further towards the door. But Tommy was quick to stop him, stepping in the threshold and blocking Joel’s exit.

“Look I know I don’t understand what you’re going through but-”

“You’re damn right you don’t!” He yelled. "You have no idea what it’s like Tommy; to lose years of your life in an instant. Forget everything you’ve done and the people you used to care about. I don’t see how bitching about how shitty this is to the damn Doctor is going to help!”

“But you’re starting to remember things Joel! That’s a big fucking deal!”

“How?! All I’m remembering is crap no one cares about! How are horse’s names gonna help me? Or how I take my coffee in the morning? I couldn’t even remember holding my little girl in my arms after she was shot! Oh but thank the lord I could remember what colour shirt I was wearing when it happened!!”

With every word Joel got closer, his nostrils flaring in anger as blood continued to boil. But Tommy never backed down, squaring up to his big brother wasn’t unusual and certainly wasn’t the first time they’d been at odds on how to handle something. Joel’s eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched.

“It’s been two months Tommy...two months of this and it ain’t getting better any time soon. This ain’t your problem so just back off!” He hissed between gritted teeth.

“You can’t just push me away Joel, I want to help. I’m trying but you’re just being so damn stubborn.”

“Then leave, I didn’t ask you to babysit me. And I sure as hell don’t need you sticking around outta guilt.” The words stopped Tommy dead.

“What?”

“I might not remember what happened but I know enough from what you told me about Boston...You survived because of me. All those years I took care of us. Just like when we were kids. So what? You feel like you owe me? You gotta take your turn to take care of me now? You can keep it baby brother because I don’t want it. And I didn’t ask for it.” The words spit venom with every ounce of bitterness Joel had in him. And Tommy felt his lip snarl in response. The ungrateful bastard; he thought coldly, after everything he’d done to keep his brother alive on the way back to Jackson after the Fireflies had almost beaten him to death and this was what he had to say in response.

“How do I know the people who did this weren’t after you. I mean they did a pretty good number on you too right? Big brother to the rescue to save your sorry ass; yet again! You think I want to live like this?! Huh?! Trapped in a life of a man I don’t even know. A house full of memories I can’t even goddamn remember!”

That was it, Tommy was done. Joel was frustrated and angry, he knew that. He understood that. Of course he did. But to blame him for this?! How the hell was that fair? His hands shook in pure anger, chest heaving as he held back his punches as much as he could. He stumbled away from the door. His trembling hand reaching up and running through his beard in a poor attempt to calm himself.  

“You know what screw you! Screw you Joel! You wanna give up, you wanna feel sorry for yourself? Fine! I’m done. You give up on your family-”

“Family?! What damn family? There’s no one left Tommy! Sarah is gone!”

“She ain’t the only one you got!” Tommy cut off without thinking. Joel’s face dropping at his brother's outburst. The younger man’s eyes widened in shock as he realised what he’d said. But it was too late to take it back now. And Tommy knew that. They both did. Perhaps now was the time to tell the truth.

“You want to know who your family is Joel? Take a look in your damn attic.”

Tommy uttered the words into the thick silence left between the two men. Before turning on his heel to leave, never giving Joel a chance to answer. Leaving the man to stew in his confession. He just hoped that somehow...Ada could forgive him for this.  

[sopeyb23-blog]

Changed

*not my gif

Summary: Spencer gets out of jail and reunites with Y/N but is afraid he has changed too much.

Warnings: crying, angst, mentions of prison, mentions of injury (very minor)

words: 2.4 K

Pairing: Spencer Reid X Gn!Reader

A/N: its been a while so I thought I would write a single chapter thing to please the people. if anyone has any cool ideas for another single or even a multichap lmk, I would be happy to oblige.

*I do not own any CM characters.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I scurried around Spencer and I’s apartment hastily grabbing his old satchel and tossing a jacket into it. Even since he left for prison this was the only bag I would use, no matter how many things I had to carry I would only use his satchel. It was just a way for me to be with him even if I couldn’t really be with him. The first visit anyone from the team had with him he made them promise that they wouldn't let me go see him. He said he would call me when he could, and he did, or tried too, but after a week the calls stopped. JJ assured me that he was okay, she continued to see him once a week and would always call me and update me every chance she got, but it just wasn't enough. I needed to see him. 

So today, I woke up. I called the prison to let them know I would be visiting, and I packed up to leave. I was more nervous today than I was on the day he was put in there. That day I was so confident that he would be fine, I thought it was a cut and dry thing and he would be home for dinner that night, but he wasn't. Just as I put my hand on the doorknob to leave I heard a ring come from my phone inside Spencer's satchel. I looked down at it to see a picture of JJ holding Henry lighting up my screen in the dark of my apartment.

“JJ, hi, I was about to call you actually, well sort of, i'm on my way to see Spence and I know he didn't want me to come, but I think I have a way to get him out of there and I just need to be the one to tell him you know?”

She was silent on the other end for a second before taking a very deep breath.

“Y/N, he's here.”

“What do you mean he's here, are you at the prison?”

“No, Y/N, he’s at the BAU, he's been out for a day”

Right away my mind went to all sorts of places I knew it shouldn't. 

“Why didn't anyone tell me! What, does he not want to see me! Is he even okay?” I was screaming into the phone even though I knew it wasn't fair to her. Whatever this was, it wasn't JJ’s fault.

“Hey, hey! Don't go there, it wasn't like that I promise. As soon as we got him out we had to throw him into a case, he wanted to call you I promise but, Y/N, it was about Cat.”

“He was out for less than a day and that bitch tried to take him away from me again? Where is he, he couldn't have called me?”

“It wasn't just about Cat, it was about his mom, listen she's fine now, everything’s okay, but I need you to come get him from the BAU. he needs you to take him home. He needs you”

“I’m on my way”

It was those last three words that got me out of my head. Who was I to be angry at him when poor Spence had gone through so much. Still with his satchel on my shoulder I finally left our small apartment. Barely moved into before he was taken from me so abruptly. It just wasn't fair, the universe had it out for him I swear, first his mom gets sick, and then when he goes to help her he’s almost killed, and then he was convicted for something we all know he would never in a million years do, he won't even tell me what happened in there because it was so bad, and then he finally gets out, unbeknownst to me, is thrown into a case before he can even call, has to go back to that horrible women who tears him apart. Even just thinking about it makes me cry for him. He didn't deserve any of it. 

I wipe a few stray tears from my eyes as I step into the car and put his satchel on the passenger's side of the car. I look up at the picture of him I placed on the console and place it back in my bag, ever so ready to replace it with the real thing. 

“I'm coming Spence”

~~~~~~~~~

The drive from our apartment to the BAU is particularly long, but it seemed even shorter to me this time. Maybe I was speeding, who knows, but I was almost surprised when suddenly I found myself in the parking garage outside of their buildings, as if my brain had decided it wasn’t important to focus on driving when there was something more important to come.

I grabbed the brown satchel and threw it on my shoulder before running into the elevator and frantically pressing the level six button repeatedly. Spencer's voice in my head chuckled, you know that wont make it go faster, right? He's so close. I couldn't help the tears that started to fall again as I took shaky breaths to calm myself. I didn't know what sort of pain he was in right now, and it wouldn't be fair of me to make him have to take care of me. I wiped them off again as the elevator stopped on floor six. I waited impatiently for the doors to open and tears started again no matter how hard I wanted them to stop. And then the doors opened.

It was like I was seeing him for the first time all over again. He had obviously heard the elevator ding and began walking towards it as the doors were opening slowly. So when, finally, the doors were opened all the way he was facing me, battered and bruised and opening up the glass doors I had seen him behind many times before.  I was frozen as I looked at him. He was there, he was my Spencer but, different. I took one step out of the elevator before I just stopped breathing all together,. He walked toward me still with the whole team behind him, sorry looks on their faces. I finally unfroze and ran the distance to him, throwing myself into his arms. It startled him and he flinched but wrapped his arms around me automatically. 

“It's you,” I said in between sobs and he nestled his head into my neck.

“Its me”

I continued to cry as he held me. When I finally lifted my head from his shoulder I looked at his team, who were staring lovingly back at me. I looked at all of them and mouthed; thank you, before pulling back from Spencer to kiss him. His lips were chapped and mine were salty. But the love that he put into that kiss was more than I had ever felt from him. When we finally broke apart I clung to him as we walked into the elevator. The entire interaction was about ten minutes, all of which were just me crying as he held me. Ten minutes seemed like a lifetime to me.

In the elevator he was silent. He looked down at the floor, obviously deep in thought and I just started at him. The more I looked the more worried I became. For each second I looked at him I saw one more cut, one more bruise, one more scar that wasn't there the last time I saw him. Even though he didn't look up at me or even speak at all, he put a hand on the crook of my elbow like he always used to and held it tight for the entire walk back to the car. He still had a slight limp from the incident last week. It served as yet another reminder to me that the Spencer I’m with right now is not the same Spencer that i knew before. 

The drive home again felt short. He never spoke and neither did I, but I could feel his gaze on me as I drove, just trying to tell if I was really there. When we made it up the stairs to our apartment door he stood behind me and stared at the door. When I opened it with my keys and held it open for him he shook his head quickly as if trying to wake himself up from something and then finally walked inside. Every move he made was like he was afraid of hurting himself or me. 

“Go sit, i'll make you something to eat” 

I wasn't going to say it for fear of sounding like a grandmother, but he looked very thin. I mean I love my string bean boyfriend don't get me wrong, but this wasn't healthy.

I reheated him some Rossi pasta leftovers that I knew he would love before placing it in front of him at the counter. I sat on a stool beside him and got a comb to work through his hair. He ate tentatively but seemed to relax as I brushed through his hair. The comb did nothing so eventually I just worked my fingers through his curly locks, trying to bring more comfort than fix it.

That entire night we didn't speak at all. Well, he didn't. Every once in a while I would talk to him, just one sided things, i'll go clean up, why don't you get changed, let’s go to bed. And finally when we laid in bed I moved all the way onto his side and tried to have as much of me touching him as possible. He touched my back carefully, like he was afraid of breaking me. Eventually I fell asleep, but I don't know if he ever did. At some point I suppose he must have because he woke me up screaming. Rocking himself back and forth with glassy eyes and heaving. 

“Spence? Spencer, you're okay! Look at me hey,-” I moved so that I was sitting in front of him but was careful not to touch him.

“You're okay, i'm right here, it’s okay” the screaming stopped but the glassy look in his eyes stayed and he still cried and rocked back and forth. He looked so..pained. After he had stopped screaming I placed a tentative hand on his arm careful to do it slowly so I wouldn't startle him. He flinched and looked at me with terrified eyes.

“Don’t, please, don’t.” I took my hand away but started to cry.

“Spencer, you aren't going to hurt me, it's okay.” he shook his head and looked almost angry through his tears.

“You don't. You don't know that.” so that's what this was about.

“Of course I do. I know you, and you would never hurt me, I know that.” I was crying but trying to keep myself calm so i wouldn't startle him. 

“Do you know what I did today?” he raised his voice a little and his eyebrows pulled together.

“Did JJ tell you that she had to pull me off of Cat?”  i could feel my heart breaking into pieces, he wasn't just scared of hurting me for nothing, he had actually hurt someone.

“Did she tell you that I put my hands around her neck and shoved her against a wall? Did she tell you that I wanted to- no, that I would have killed her. If she wasn’t there to pull me off I would have killed someone. Did she tell you that?”

I sat there in shock not knowing what to say. She hadn't told me. 

“Spencer you had good reason, anyone who’s been through what you have would-”

“Would what? Kill someone?” 

“Spencer I know you wouldn't hurt me!”

“No, you don’t! Prison changed me, Y/N, i'm not the person you loved anymore!”

“Don't you dare say that! I love you Spencer! I love you now and I loved you then, you are the same person that I loved!”

“No. no i’m not. The Spencer that you fell in love with would never have done that. Would never have done this.”

He gestured to me, we were both crying fervently, covered in salty tears and snot. I was still sitting in front of him on the bed.

“Don't tell me that it didn't change me. It did. It did change me.”  

“Fine. it changed you. It also changed me. And you know how it changed us both?” I looked him dead in the eyes and placed a hand on his cheek wiping away a few tears.

“It made you more compassionate. More observant. It made you even more.. You. and it only made me love this new you more. So yes, yes it changed you, but that doesn’t mean I don't love you, that doesn't mean you are suddenly less deserving of love! I love you Spencer Reid, and I won't stop doing that just because you went through hell! You got out! And I am here! So why don't you just shut up and let me love you!”

He was silent for a couple of minutes after. We had both stopped crying. He placed a hand on my cheek just like mine was on his and looked me in the eyes with a small smile.

“Well, what's that for” I was still crying a little but when I heard him chuckle it took all of my tears away.

“Well, you told me to shut up and let you love me, so that's what I'm doing.” 

he laughed a little, but bit his lip after he said it, trying to make himself stop laughing. But as soon as he said it I started laughing. The both of us laughed at each other. Snot covered and torn apart, but somehow still laughing. 

“You know, I threw a book today” he laughed and pulled me into his chest where I looked up at him.

“A book? My goodness, maybe you aren't the same man after all!” I laughed at him and he shook his head as he smiled down at me. 

“Nah, same man, I felt really bad afterword and made Garcia order another copy” 

We both laughed and he kissed the top of my head. He slid down so we were both laying down in bed again. After a few minutes I noticed that his breathing was slow and steady. He was asleep. Peacefully asleep. I looked at him from his chest and with a small tear on my face kissed him on the cheek.

“I love you Spencer Reid. Always”

[dracosearlgreytea]

indelicate marks (15)

indelicate marks: chapter fifteen - the scar

A/N: yes i am finally back with another chapter!! only taken me like two weeks but thats fine aha im so sorry for making you all wait so long!! its been part two of slight mental breakdown which meant i didnt have much motivation to write, but, you all very much deserve the next chapter so here it is!! im hoping to get this fic finished before saturday as i am going away for a while but i shall keep you all updated. all my love and i hope you’re all doing okay - ivy <33 

warnings: language, kinda nsfw implications, talk of scars, a pinch of angst 

lovely tags: @h-annahayy  @okaydraco  @fanficflaneuse @thatoneasrastan @biinspiration @honeymelon22 @bitch-im-a-fangirl @erinisbadger @strawberriesonsummer @accio-rogers @candune

indelicate marks index

The weeks after were... nice. Being with Draco was surprisingly easy. He was comfortable company - more than comfortable. You spent most of your hours sat in the classroom, on the window ledge. It was the best few weeks you'd ever had in your life, by far. Sometimes, you would stray further - whenever you managed to convince Draco, that was. Visits to the Astronomy Tower and the lake were rare, but you adored them regardless. Those memories, the ones of him bathed in sunlight or dusk, would stay etched into mind for a long time after. You would read together, on occasions. In the depths of the library, you had discovered some of the Muggle literature he liked to drone on about. Other times, you would just talk - about everything, or nothing. You would, however, always spend a lot more time than necessary wrapped in his presence. Kissing Draco was both the easiest and most complicated thing you'd learnt to do, yet he made it worth it.   Draco still had his bad days - not that you hadn't had a fair share of yours. There would be nights were he would stumble into the classroom only to end up falling asleep. Sometimes he didn't make sense, voice a mere mutter, eyes glazed over. You didn't ask him about what he had done - about what Harry had accused you for. He didn't mention the mark you would soon have to take. Spring verged into summer. Despite the anxiety that came with the dread of returning home for the holidays, you found yourself almost forgetting the reality of it all. But, it was nice. It was nice to just be. "Are you asleep?" It was late, and warm. Too warm, for your liking, and you you had still managed to end up curling into Draco's side. His whisper came close to your ear, letting the book resting on his lap fall shut. "No," You murmured, shifting your head to glance back at him. Features close to yours, his breath fanned over your lips as he exhaled. The pure sensation of the intimacy that had became so natural still hadn't lost his touch, warmth flooding throughout you. "Why?" "Just wondered." You hummed at his reply, noting his grey gaze as it darted down for a second. Pressing a short kiss to his lips, his fingertips dug a little more into where they rested on your shoulder. The act still managed to warm your chest - in a way you'd only ever felt with him. It was in these moments, the dark nights and the small kisses and the whispers, that you felt complete. As though nothing was ever going to go wrong - as you'd lived a normal, happier life. Like you weren't on the verge of war. You pulled back, after a second, and Draco sighed as you did. Frowning a little, you scanned his expression, but he only gazed back, expectant. "Are you okay?" You asked, finally. "Are you?" It was his turn to frown. Shifting back to take him in properly, you smoothed out the fabric covering his shoulder, avoiding his eyes. "It doesn't always have to be about me, Draco." Quiet, you spoke, allowing your gaze to dart up to his. Draco watched you, guarded, but not defensive. "I know you don't want to talk about - well, about what goes on with you, but you know you don't have to hide anything. Not with me." "You know it's not like that." He mumbled. "I just don't want you-" "You don't want me involved." You finished for him, forcing your lips into a small, reassuring smile. "I know." Eyes still unreadable, he scanned you for a moment. Then, in one swift movement, he kissed you again, lingering for only a second. Again, you were the one to pull back. The mess of thoughts tangled in your brain was demanding to be heard, much to your frustration. Draco kept his gaze on you as you sat back, keeping yours very much away him his, fiddling at your sleeve. Fingers brushing over yours, he pulled them firmly into his hands. "You're thinking very loudly." He pointed out, voice edged with both seriousness and a rare kind of softness. Eyebrows flicking up, you shrugged. You had to push away the instinctive temptation to withdraw your hands from his and put them back to your sleeve. "I have a lot to think about." You said, finally shooting him a glimpse. "Like?" Draco prompted, arching his eyebrow. "You know what like." Tone a little strained, you swallowed. He'd fallen deadly silent, and you stared down at your tangled fingers. Biting back the words catching in the back of your throat seemed to prove difficult - because they came anyway. "It's just - aren't I already involved?" "Y/N..." "Well, aren't I?" You shot him a look, lips dragged down. "I'm pretty much already a Deatheater, mark and all. I don't see how you actually talking about things is going to make anything worse for me." "I'm not having this conversation with you again." Turning his head away to face straight ahead of him, Draco spoke, firm. His hands pulled away from yours, prompting a painful stab to your chest. "Why?" Pushing, you felt an uncomfortable heat rising in your chest. "Why won't you let me make my own decision about what happens to me? About what happens to us?" Draco's jaw tightened, eyes darker as he came to glare at you. "What is that supposed to mean?" His voice was barely restrained. "I thought you were happy, with this?" "I am - I just - I'm worried about you, Draco. I don't even know where you are half the time. I don't even know what we are, because you won't let me talk to you about anything." Heart rate becoming more frantic, you watched him with an intent. He set you with one of his distant looks, and your chest caved in a little, swallowing. "I said it from the start, Y/N. No promises. We agreed." "I'm not asking you to promise me anything," Your tone grew desperate. "I'm asking you to let me help you." There was a second of silence, after that. You continued to stare at Draco, breathing still quick and mind buzzing as you tugged at your sleeve. He had paused, all too vacant - until he finally let out a sigh, shifting his body to face you properly. "You are helping me." He said, taking your hand again. You allowed him to curl it into his, grinding your teeth in attempt to swallow back another argument. "You being here - being with me - that is all you need to do. I don't want you to worry about anything else." "How do you expect me not to worry? My parents-" "I'm working on it." "What?" Brow furrowing, you stared at him, uncertain. Draco held a very earnest look, that was both terrifying and comforting, and you gripped his hand a little harder. "Don't worry about it. Your parents, the mark, me - nothing." Merlin, his tone had never been so foreboding. His eyes glinted in a way that made your heart tweak, and you had to take in a deep breath. What the hell are you doing, Draco? "It's going to be fine." No, it's not. Draco sighed at your silence, features stilling - before he spoke again. "I promise." You met his dark eyes in under a second. A lump had grown in the back of your throat, but you swallowed it back. Seeing him, in the darkness of the classroom, moonlight reflecting off his eyes... It was all too reminiscent to that night in the Astronomy Tower. He looked so fragile, so incomplete, as though he would slip away at any moment. For once, you could not take comfort in his words. And still, you didn't say anything else. Instead, you pressed your lips to his, hands on his neck and body pressed against his as though it was what you were designed to do. It didn't take long for Draco to crawl over you, pinning you underneath him, a hand set at your waist. Every thought and feeling from your previous discussion discarded, your heart skipped at beat as he nipped your bottom lip. His shirt had loosened from his movement, and you slipped your hand underneath it. Fingertips brushing over the skin of his torso, his eyes snapped to yours, pulling away with a jolt. And, for a second, you froze, apologies ready on your lips. But the glint in his eye was dark, captivating. Then, he was pressing sharp kisses to your neck, a fraction more frantic than ever before. Heart racing, your breathing grew laboured, body sparking underneath his fingertips. "Is this okay?" Draco murmured, glancing up at you. His hand now hesitated at the buttons of your shirt. He did not progress, staying almost unnervingly steady as he waited for a reply. Swallowing, you nodded. "I need a vocal reply." He added, quirking an eyebrow. Despite everything - the heat of your body, the thrill coursing through you - you hesitated. Draco waited a second longer, before withdrawing. Your stomach dropped, grasping his shoulders as he shifted upright. "I - fuck, I'm sorry-" "Don't be stupid." Draco's brow furrowed, shooting you a look that was almost intimidating. "You never have to do anything you don't want to, Y/N." "It's not that I don't want to," You mumbled, avoiding his eyes as your cheeks flushed with head. "I - It's just my..." Draco remained quiet as you struggled for words, until you tapped your left forearm. Gently, he rested his hand at your wrist, causing your to glance at him immediately.   "You don't have to show me." Eyes honest, your chest squeezed. "It's not that I mind you seeing." You frowned at your words, unable to communicate the jumble in your mind. "But no one has even been able to just see it, you know? Without - anything else happening." "Well, I've already seen it before." Draco reminded you, voice a little softer than usual. "It didn't reopen when I healed it last time, so I think it would be fine. But, you still don't have to show me." A soft smile tugged at your lips as you scanned his expression. Even now, it was difficult to coax out this side of Draco - the softer, understanding one. The one you doubted could hurt a fly. Brushing your fingers, over his cheek, you kissed him, slow. The fluttering content never seemed to fade, no matter how many times you had kissed him by now. Then, as you pulled back, you offered him your arm. Draco's eyes rested on you. "Are you sure?" He asked, raising his brow in the lightest. "Vocal reply." "Yes, you idiot." Despite your uncertainty, a smile fluttered across your features. Draco, still tentative, loosened the cuff of your sleeve. Biting down on your lip, you kept your eyes focused on his as he worked, even as he shifted the material upward. Eventually, you squeezed them shut. Your heart was racing in your chest, waiting for that first sting, for the bad memories and the burning - But, instead, only a set of soft lips met your skin. Flinching, you eyes snapped open, staring down at your arm. An instinctive grimace followed at the sight of the raised, poorly healed skin. Bu there was no blood. No pain, no distant voices. "See?" Draco murmured, watching you. Staring from your scar, to him, your chest shifted, almost in a motion of instant comfort. "It's fine." Still hesitant, your lips twitched up into a small smile, and you caught the way Draco's gaze followed the movement. You also caught the words, inching their way up your throat. They were burning, but not in the way you were used to. In fact, it was more painful as you pushed them down, kissing Draco again before they could spill out. For once, you did not care about the way your sleeve crinkled in the crook of your elbow. You did not think of the way Draco's fingers brushed over the mark every moment or so. For once, it was not a reminder of what you hated - but reminder of how you had become so entangled with this boy you so adored. A connection you could have never anticipated for such an indelicate mark. Yet, despite it all, it was a connection that you hoped would never have to be broken.