#its not gonna make me dislike or bad-mouth or block them.

[psychic-vamp]

You can't force someone to tag things for you, especially if they don't even see your blog or follow that link way off on card, you cannot control other people online, realize that now pls

you can't force someone to change their behavior on their own blog, especially if you do it anonymously and don't offer any alternative advice. you cannot control other people online, realize that now pls

[visceral-viscera]

not to poke my head in where it doesn't belong but. i have very little context for the current RW drama- but yall really need to stop acting like everyone who likes the same thing as you is your best friend. and that ALL different opinions are something to be actively shunned and shamed. ive seen like 3 posts that all boil down to "fandom bad it ruins the game for me im gonna leave" and people getting the weirdest anon hate, and its so confusing to me. Block the people who are weird (in your opinion,) and try not to make everyone in the fandom your bestie.

Note: never join a fandom discord expecting to make a bunch of live long friends. they almost always end up this way. if you are in a room with people who literally just have the same POPULAR game in common, there's gonna be people you dislike. and people who do bad shit.

And for the love of god- this is more general- take words like "zoo," "proship," "groomer" ect out of your mouth and just say what exactly they actually did/support. trying to figure out what the hell yall are talking about whenever this stuff comes up is impossible, because some people think its "proship" to write a fic where the adult characters are mean to each other, people think ALL anthro nsfw is zoophilia (including??? literally just adults doing it in suits?? you can think its weird but if it isnt hurting any real animals please just block and move on.), and that a 19 year old dating a 17 year old is grooming. (NOT examples i saw in the tag but ones ive heard in other places).

don't take this shit so seriously. the internet is full of creeps. yes even your favorite game that used to be niche back in the day. dont write "call out" posts. dont REBLOG callout posts. its so fucking easy to just change your identity online, all it does is spread fear and confusion and infighting. if someone you like is interacting with someone you know is a POS, just send them an ask or PM. and respect if they choose to continue interacting! maybe block them if they do! if you HAVE to let the wider fandom know- please just put factual info. do not buff it out with random shit or god forbid fabricated shit. put the info out there, clearly, without inflammatory/reactionary language, and trust that people who care will block as needed.

free yourself from the chains of "the fandom is mean/bad." start ignoring people. stop giving a shit what other people think. do not send anon hate. be free. god bless.

[nihiltism]

as for my first Veedia Veeview! I just finished 999 (DS) and I sure do have opinions on it! so hold on one second as I readmore this because it might be long. warning for 999 spoilers probably.

ok so. i am going to preface that i did not Dislike this game. it was a very neat little thing with pretty good plot weaving (though there are some Shenanigans that leave me confused still), good puzzles and a killer climax/twist that recontextualizes everything. that's the good stuff. i think it was a good solid game. but also i dont think i get the hype? things like this always make me feel like somebodys gonna come from the shadows and rick and morty me like im not smart enough to appreciate it but i. do think i. got it. i just dont. see the hype.

my main, not really issue but Thing Keeping Me From Getting Into The Game was kinda just. how Eh all the characters were. something you should know about me is that i Love characterization based storytelling. i love when every character has a Deal and the plot is weaved around those characters' actions and interactions while In Character. 999, being a game based around Personal Revenge and Saving Somebody You Love, has potential to be character-based. and in some instances it really is. however a Lot of the game feels like the writers planned out the plot, key events, and how characters would affect that plot in turn, before they had decided on who most of their cast actually was. they just had wooden 2x4s in place of the characters for the majority of writing. It happened a Lot where it seemed a character was just, hijacked to infodump occasionally. hijacked to give important information, hijacked to make a smart move that had to be made, etc. they all seem both incredibly smart and incredibly stupid at the same time because of this. they're kind of just. uchikoshi's sock puppets. he asks them questions like "do you know any exposition useful to this puzzle?" and he answers himself in a slightly higher voice while moving the sock puppets mouth. (this especially happened with junpei, where in the safe ending and while going to door 3 he seemed to just. completely break character to make a plot thread happen). even without that, i wont say that characters lack depth but their depth isn't made Important, save for like. santa. i cant even fully argue akane. characters who have Deals are a bit rare and when a character is shown to have a backstory outside of this, like lotus, it is. decided it doesnt matter. i think lotus deserved better in general to be honest. it's one of those games where if I see anybody with a honest to goodness Blorbo from it I kind of tilt my head and ask myself how much you are hallucinating about the character in question.

as for actual like. gameplay whatevers. its fine. none of the puzzles made me want to die save for maybe the block pusher, it was easy enough to speed through early segments on subsequent playthroughs, the art is nice and i really like the animations when they exist. i tend to not have a lot to say about parts i thought were fine and a lot to say about parts that bug me so. For The Big One

I Did Not Go Into This Game Expecting To Get, Not Only Ableism, But Ableism For Something So Hyperspecific I Didn't Even Know There Was A Word For It. Despite Having It.

the way this game handles ace's prosopagnosia is. pathetic. it's like they only understood like 3 words off a wikipedia page about the topic, as well as the fact that it was a mental condition, and thought they understood enough to make it a major plotpoint. i have 3 main annoyances about it in particular.

1: the plot hole. the fact that makes me almost positive they didnt understand the concept. the fact that THE WRITER FORGOT THAT HAIR EXISTS AND OVER HALF THE CAST NOT ONLY HAS IT BUT HAS DISTINCT ANIME HAIR. ooooh my god. its. its so bad.

2: the way that they continually treat prosopagnosia as something agonizing or worth pity. if you have ever had any sort of mental illness you know that people responding "i feel bad for you" in response to you, having it, is a huuuuge yikes. but like. prosopagnosia toes the line of (definitely a disorder but so workaroundable that this is just. A Way People Be.) like how poor eyesight is so rarely seen as a disability nowadays because glasses exist. my friend related it with a better metaphor than me, being that the whole. way its presented is kinda like (the terrible agony of being left-handed). its strange its alienating i wouldnt call it demonizing but i would say its similar to that one time i went to college and somebody said "oh im so sorry to hear that!" after me mentioning in introductions that i was disabled.

3: the fact that ace's motive for Atrocities was his prosopagnosia. like. ok if it was just a Thing He Had and was a good way to pin him down as a killer then thats one thing. however using this, again, Way People Be, as a motive for it all. its. im leaning slightly more to demonizing but more just. Boooo We Hate Your Stupid Ableist Subplot. we hate the fact that this is even considered a villain motive when any normal person with prosopagnosia could easily tell you that they are not so Pained And Agonized by. not being able to tell peoples faces apart. that they would put kids into a death game for psychic powers to fix it. its one of the stupidest and frankly insulting villain motives ive ever seen in a really really well thought out game aside from it. it's paradoxically both Good and Awful writing and I've been told this type of thing is not rare of uchikoshi works.

anyway uhhhh overall. yeah i think its just kind of alright basically. shrugs. it just kind of made me want to replay ghost trick.

[jaeminzie]

worth it | l.dh

↳ lee haechan x gender nuetral!reader

synopsis: having a turtoring session with fratboy!hyuck that you were bribed into turned into a cuddle session, but he definitely didn’t mind at all

genre: fluffff

word count: 2,123

you rubbed your head in frustration as the memory kept replaying in your head, making you regret your past decision. earlier in the day, lee donghyuck was practically begging you to tutor him for his upcoming exam. you were so set on saying ‘no’ because you very much disliked the guy but he began to wave fifty dollars in your face. and you, a broke college student, completely forgot about all the unfavorable feelings towards the boy and gave in.

but as hours passed by, you began to reconsider if spending time with donghyuck was worth fifty dollars. maybe if it were doubled then you wouldn’t be second-guessing your past decision. you looked at your phone to check the time, just to see if it was too late to back out now. and unfortunately for you, it was.

you let out a loud groan in the middle of the student café lounge area that you and your best friend, renjun, were relaxing in. “nice to see you doing well, y/n.” renjun took a pause from drawing on his sketchbook and looked up smiling mockingly at you to which you didn’t respond to in any way shape or form. the smile dropped and a wave of annoyance took over his facial expressions. “okay, what is it. are you hungry? you should’ve just aske-”

“i’m not always hungry.” you rolled your eyes at him and lowered yourself in your seat. “it’s donghyuck-”

“oh god. then whatever it is, that obnoxiously loud groan was valid.” he groaned with you. renjun never had a good impression on donghyuck because he didn’t brake his car for renjun when he was trying to walk across the pedestrian crosswalk, and donghyuck never said sorry nor look apologetic. instead, he just gave renjun trauma. he’s the reason why renjun always wait ten seconds minimum before crossing the street. although it gets annoying, his lost face before crossing reminds you of a cute kitten which makes up for the long wait. “what did he do this time?”

“he’s paying me to tutor him at his frat.” his face was evident in disgust and empathy. “i’m regretting saying yes because i’m too exhausted to deal with him.” you whined and put your face in your hands, rubbing it harshly in an attempt to wake yourself up.

“y/n, you are so strong.” he grabbed your hand away from your face and rubbed your hand awkwardly as he looked at you with apologetic eyes. “no but seriously, text me when he starts acting up. i’ll have jaemin with me for backup because i mean.” he lifted up his arms and tried to flex his arm muscles. key word: tried. “you know.”

you let out a chuckle, closed your eyes, and let your head fall back. “i’ll definitely be live texting you whenever he says and does something stupid.”

“so basically, what you’re saying is that you’ll be texting me every second. might as well have me on facetime.” 

you looked back at your best friend who was showing a toothy grin. “basically.” you checked your phone again and saw that if you didn’t leave now then you’d be late to the session. “fuck, i gotta get going. please wish me luck.” you lazily got up, got your bag and stood still in front of renjun with a face that was screaming ‘help me.’

“c’mon at least you’re getting paid, right?”

“you’re right, i need to stop being such a child.” you sighed and tried to erase every negative thought and feeling inside of you.

“kick his ass if he acts up though.” he raised an eyebrow at you.

you scoffed, “of course of course.” you sighed once again and pet renjun’s hair as you walked emotionless out of the student café and made your way to the bus stop.

donghyuck’s fraternity was only a couple blocks away and it honestly wouldn’t take long to walk there but you were too tired to even try.

the commute was quick but you wish it wasn’t. there you were, standing outside the door of regret. the outside was fairly clean but you knew that the inside would be a completely different story. you knocked a few times on the white door before a smiling donghyuck greeted you. “oh wow, you actually came.”

you fought back the urge to roll your eyes. “you’re welcome.” you both stood there awkwardly while he stared you down and you tried avoiding eye contact.

“oh sorry, come in.” he turned his body to make way for yours to enter his place. “i made sure we’re alone because it’s usually loud when the others are here. they’ll be back in a couple hours, though.” he scratched his neck and yawned while you examined the place. you were right, the inside was messy but to your surprise, it wasn’t too bad.

“yeah sounds good. it shouldn’t take too long” you turned to face him and gawked at his appearance. okay there’s no denying donghyuck is pretty decent looking, but he looks extra good today. he stood there awkwardly with his hands rested in the pockets of his oversized black jacket. his hair was slightly ruffled up, you can tell he just woke up from a nap. “you really thought i’d flake on you?” you raised an eyebrow.

his eyes wondered your facial features and marks. “i mean, you kinda hate me so.”

“i don’t hate you.” you corrected him. you may have a strong disfavor of him but you don’t hate him.

he smirked, his body seemed to relax a lot more. “then, let’s get started.” he walked past me and lead the way up the spiral staircase and into his room, which was surprisingly clean and well decorated with a tidy computer gaming set at the corner.

you set your bag right by the bed which you sat on. “so specifically, what are you struggling on?” you asked him looking at his figure that was leaned against his dresser a couple feet across from you.

“uh everything?” he let out a shy laugh and crossed his arms in front of him.

you decided not to scold him for always partying because truth is, you don’t know anything that’s going on in his life so you swallowed the upcoming insults that were climbing up your throat. “oh, well, we should get started asap then so we don’t finish too late.” you cleared your throat.

his eyes widened in surprise like he was expecting your usual witty remarks that he secretly loved, but you weren’t aware of his fondness for your attitude. “yeah for sure, let me get my stuff.” he hurriedly gathered his materials and set them on the bed next to me since he didn’t have a desk in his room. well, he did have his computer desk but there was definitely no room for books there.

he climbed on the bed and rested on his stomach and flipped the pages of the textbook, trying to find the first section he needed assistance on.

you kicked off your shoes and laid down next to him, but keeping your distance from him. he smirked slightly while still keeping his focus on the page. “you can scoot closer so you can see the book clearer.” he looked at you with innocent eyes.

in instinct, you rolled your eyes and scooted a bit closer to him. close enough to smell his cologne and close enough to see his moles randomly placed on his face and neck clearly. you took your attention away from his face when he suddenly made eye contact with you, catching you off-guard. 

his warm, soft bedsheets did no help in keeping you awake. you tried to focus on the words he was spitting out but every word entered one ear and went out the other as your eyelids began to feel heavier, and your vision slowly began to black out.

—

“dude what the fuck happened?” an unfamiliar whisper woke you up from your sleep but you ignored it, just trying to go back to your dreamland.

until you felt something absurd, someone’s warm embrace wrapped around you, your head was now resting on a pillow and an arm, and your cheek was rubbing against a wet patch of what you assumed was your drool on a white t-shirt fabric. “bro shut the fuck up, you’re gonna wake y/n up.” now, that was a familiar whisper to you. your heartbeat raced faster and faster as you made the conclusion that you were cuddling with the lee donghyuck. you internally groaned knowing that renjun will never shut up about this once you tell him. this will be his winning comeback for your future arguments. i mean, you could not tell him but what kind of best friend would you be if you didn’t inform him of the time you magically started cuddling with a man you disliked—but still enjoyed it.

“you better tell me everything later.” the whisper was a lot harsher than the first one, then silence followed after the unknown boy closed the door. you assumed he was gone but you waited to lift your head up to make it not obvious that you were awake to listen to their conversation.

“i know you’re awake.” donghyuck laughed above you, his chest rumbled against your cheek. “you stopped snoring a while ago.”

you groaned in annoyance and also in embarrassment. you slowly lifted your head up to look up at him and you were not ready to see the sight of him looking down at you with a soft smile and even messier hair, causing your heart to skip a beat. both your arms were still wrapped around each other, leaving no space between you both. “what the fuck.” you blurted out, not knowing what else to say.

donghyuck’s tired smile widened. “i should be the one asking you that. sweetheart, you’re the one who cuddled up to me first.” he enjoyed watching your face flush red in embarrassment, anger, and also by the way he looked at you so attentively. “you know, its quite rude.” he tightened his grip around you. “i’m supposed to be paying for a tutoring lesson.” he pursed his lips and furrowed his eyebrows, not breaking eye contact with you.

you remained looking at him with shaky eyes, not believing the situation you were in. your mouth opened, then it closed, then it opened to say something but donghyuck cut you off. “but this is so much better, my money well spent.” he sighed contently and closed his eyes, rubbing his cheek against the top of your head.

you could’ve protested or done anything to get out of his grip but your body stayed the way it is. “i didn’t even get to teach you one lesson, i’m sorry.” you were sincere with your apology, you wasted his time and now he’s probably gonna fail his exam if you two keep cuddling.

“i don’t care about that. i prefer this much more.” his eyes were still closed. you continued to admire his face and tried to memorize every single detail and placement of each mark. “hmmm, why don’t you take a picture?” he hummed, still keeping his eyes closed.

your hands made their way up his ear and pinched it. he let out a whine and finally opened his eyes which immediately landed directly on yours. “quit it.” you warned him.

“as you wish, darling.” his voice became lower and it almost sounded like a whisper. a soft smirk appeared on his face and his eyes were sparkling under the moonlight that shined through his window. “i love talking to you but i think i finally found something i love even more—sleeping with you.”

you opened your mouth to say something but his finger pressed against your lips to keep you quiet. he shushes you softly while he shuffled slightly to find a comfortable position, still keeping his embrace secure around you and his eyelids began to slowly drop. you admired his face once more before closing your eyes as well.

the question you asked yourself earlier today lingered in your mind before drifting off to your sleep again. is spending time with donghyuck worth fifty dollars? considering how warm he felt against you, and how you loved to hear his breathing and soft snores above you, and how perfect your body naturally molded into his embrace. you could finally answer the question confidently, yes.

[wkemeup]

By Any Other Name (Prologue)

series summary: When Special Agent Bucky Barnes is tasked with infiltrating the notorious gang Hydra and gathering evidence against its leader, Brock Rumlow, Bucky finds himself drawn to the woman who doesn’t seem to belong in this world of violence, the wife of the head of Hydra... you.  pairing: bucky x reader chapter word count: 2.3k warnings: bucky and sam being little shits, setting up the backstory 🌹series masterlist // series playlist

If there was one thing to know about Bucky Barnes, it was that he didn’t back down from a challenge; certainly not one from a former fighter pilot with a superiority complex and a loud mouth.  

Bucky stared down the end of the ring, circling with careful, steady steps as he sized up his prey. Sam Wilson rolled his eyes, a slight shake of his head, because he didn’t know quite yet the humiliation he was about to experience.  

It had been a while since Bucky had knocked Sam’s ego down a few notches and it was about time someone did something about his less-than-charming attitude. Sam was starting to talk a big game in front of the rookies and, well, Bucky couldn't have them thinking Sam was some kind of Bureau legend.

“You gonna make a move or what?” Sam jabbed, throwing his arms out to the side dramatically. He let out a groan that echoed through the rafters of the training gym. Always the dramatic one.  

Bucky snickered under his breath, patient, as he continued eyeing up Sam from the distance. 

His left arm was clasped behind his back, wrapped with tape meant to secure his fist in the ring, and he stretched the fingers in his right hand against his hip. A soft cracking released the air between his joints.  

Sam was the one with the brilliant idea to make a bet, in front of a cafeteria full of agents, that Bucky couldn’t get an opponent on the mat one-handed. It was a foolish mistake he was about to regret.  

Bucky charged at Sam, catching him off guard as he let out a grunt from the impact of Bucky’s shoulder diving straight into his stomach. Sam kneed him up into his chest and shoved Bucky off of him, full force of both hands straight to his collarbone, and sent him spiraling to the ground.

“Not so easy, huh?” Sam taunted, winking over at a the young female agent with strawberry blonde hair sweeping down her shoulders as she watched from beyond the ring. Sam didn't seem bothered in the slightest when she rolled her eyes at him and passed a few dollars to the agent on her left, nodding towards Bucky.  

Meanwhile, Bucky was back to his feet, jumping around on his toes, loosening his muscles and got back into position. His only free hand was held in front of him on the offense, his feet positioned slightly more than shoulder width apart, and he bent his knees, giving him the flexibility of movement and agility.  

He didn’t give Sam another chance to provoke him before threw a hit to the side of Sam’s jaw, enough to get him off balance, but not to leave bruising. Bucky knew better than to throw full force with a friendly in the ring, no matter how much of a pain in his ass Sam was, but it would certainly give him the advantage he needed. Maybe leave a red mark for an hour or so. Just enough to make him regret betting against his own teammate.  

Sam stumbled back from the impact of the hit and Bucky made a quick turn for a roundhouse kick where he’d usually use his left hand for additional damage. Sam grunted, knocking away Bucky’s leg before it could land and rushed at him. He got in a good hit on Bucky’s left side, but that was an easy move – some might say, a coward’s move – as he was defenseless on his left.

Though when Sam attempted to get him on that side again, Bucky turned his shoulder, blocking his left side from the attack and grabbing Sam’s wrist midair with his right. Sam looked at him with wide eyes, in shock, before Bucky simply smirked and kicked his right leg to the back of Sam’s knees.  

He let out a yelp as he knees buckles and it sent him tumbling onto the mat with a heavy thud. Bucky quickly took the advantage and threw the full of his bodyweight on Sam’s back. He settled in, purposely digging his tailbone into Sam’s spine and pushing as much as his weight onto him as he could.  

He sat there, whistling to himself as Sam started to scramble under him. The rookies were laughing under their breath as they watched in hoards beyond the edge of the ring. Seemed Sam’s challenge made rounds in the rumor mill and the new recruits wanted a front row seat to the Bureau’s top agents facing off in the ring.  

“You gonna get your fat ass off of me, tough guy?” Sam grumbled, trying to pull himself from under Bucky, but it was no use.  

“I don’t know, man, are you gonna apologize for thinking you had any chance in beating me in the ring, even with one arm tied behind my back?” Bucky taunted, grinning ear to ear as he glanced up to the ranking board hung from the rafters from their year in the academy. Sure, he was listed at number two, but his ego wasn't big enough to believe he’d ever take first when the All-American-Golden-Boy Steve Rogers was in play. At least he wasn’t sitting at fourth place like a certain incapacitated agent he knew.  

“Bite me, Barnes!”

“Maybe I will, don’t temp me.”

“I’m going to kill you. I’m actually going to kill you.”

“What in the hell are you two doing?!”

Bucky looked up to find Steve pushing his way through the hoard of rookies gathered off the side of the ring watching the match with handfuls of cash passing between pockets. Steve shoved his way to the front of the crowd, hands on his hips as he saw the two of them at the center of the ring. He slumped his shoulders, a heavy sigh on the exhale.  

“Do I have to ask?” he rolled his eyes, gesturing to Bucky’s hand tied behind his back and Sam’s constant wiggling around as he tried to escape from under Bucky’s weight. “You realize you’re acting like children, right?”

Bucky shrugged. “It’s not my fault he can’t keep his mouth shut.”

“I am going to mess you up so bad,” Sam threatened under his breath, but it was loud enough Bucky could hear it, so he leaned further against Sam’s back, adjusting his position as he wacked Sam on the back of the head. It pulled another groan out of him, at least, as he continued to try and crawl his way out. 

“Hey dummies,” another voice called, low and sultry, carrying over the rafters in an echo and sending a hush through the rookies despite the calm nature of the tone.  

Red hair tossed in a bun at the nape of her neck with loose strangles hanging out the sides, Natasha Romanoff eyed Bucky and Sam amusingly before she turned to Steve with raised brows. He shook his head in response.

“What’s up, Nat?” Sam asked nonchalantly as he propped his chin up on his hand, as if he wasn’t currently pinned under one-hundred-and-eighty pounds of muscle.

Nat smirked, lips pushing out as she leaned against the ropes of the ring. “Fury’s looking for us. We’ve got a new job.”

Steve started to break up the crowd as Bucky pulled himself to his feet. Sam, he noticed, was rather dramatic as he used the ropes for support and clutched onto his back as he walked, sending glares in Bucky’s direction.

“You gonna help me get this tape off my arm?” Bucky called after him, rather annoyed at his current predicament, but Sam only scoffed.  

He ended up roping some doe-eyed recruit from the Naval academy to unwrap his wrist and unwind the tape trapping his left arm to his side. The kid’s hand shook nearly the whole time.

***

Fury noticeably wasn’t pleased when he found Bucky and Sam shoving at each other like teenage brothers as they made their way into the conference room. Natasha was already seated at the front of the table, closest to the Director, and Steve was leaning against the wall, arms crossed as he sent them a warning glare.  

Bucky nudged Sam one last time and sent him a short wink before escaping to the chair closest to Steve. Sam slid in beside Natasha and they turned to the Director. He only had one good eye unobstructed by the black patch that sat over veined scars protruding from underneath and even still, Bucky could tell Fury had enough.  

“Now that we’re all settled,” he started calmly, though there was an accusation in his tone. Sam slumped into his seat as Fury slid a series of folders down the table, one for each of them. A projector lit up against the wall, displaying an image of an octopus-like creature with a skull for a head and six curving tentacles emerging from the center.  

“Hydra?” Nat questioned, surprised as she grabbed one of the folders from the middle of the table.  

Fury nodded, hands on his hips. He was proud, it seemed, like he’d been waiting on this one for a while.  

Bucky flipped open the file, a name listed in the top corner that was not his own, unlike the rest of his team sitting around him. Under it, an entire lifetime’s worth of history, of family memories and previous employments, of likes and dislikes. Bucky glanced over it, taking note of the important bullets, like the one that said he had a meeting with the head of Hydra in one week’s time.

It wasn’t the first identity he had taken on and he didn’t suspect it would be the last. Bucky Barnes had spent more of his time since his discharge from the Army and recruitment to the Bureau playing the part of a criminal than as himself.  

He had an exceptional ability to compartmentalize, to lock himself behind the walls he worked tirelessly to build. It was the reason he was able to so easily lose himself to any identity handed to him; read the file, learn the backstory, become someone new. It was refreshing, in a way, to escape from himself and into someone else entirely.

No strings. No commitments. Only the case. Only the end results.

Damn the collateral damage.  

His first cover was in an underground sex trafficking ring a few years back in Atlanta where he operated under the name Brian Victor. He worked his way into the system, posing as a John, walking amongst the likes of vile and heinous men, and dismantled the entire system from the inside, rescuing near sixty-seven young, terrified girls who had been kidnapped and brought across state lines.  

After that, he was employed on a weapons manufacturing plant in Alaska where he took on the role of Alex Smith, a low-level crewman on the shipment yard where mariners were importing illegal bumps and accessories from Russia. That job took him nearly a full year to complete but he didn’t mind that much. He’d liked the locals, poor suckers who found themselves roped up in a scheme far greater than any of them realized. He’d been sure to advocate for their release when they were taken in with the higher-ups.  

Only a week after the final trial, Bucky was given a new identity; one named Chris Roswell, a street seller for an extensive drug trafficking operation in Santa Barbara. Part of his identity was to infiltrate a crew of gang members on the west side that recruited vulnerable kids who shouldn’t have been out on the streets in the first place. He didn’t care for Chris Roswell much and he was happy to be rid of the character once the supplier was taken off the streets.  

In his most recent job, he spent few months as Noah Crestal, a wealthy businessman with an inherited trust fund, who ran with spoiled rich kids and call girls and disassembled an entire underground gambling ring in Baltimore.  

But he was never alone.

While he was on his own in the field, he had a team who kept an eye on him, watched his back, hacked into security systems, and made sense of the evidence he retained.

There was Steve Rogers, the team leader and Bucky’s best friend since childhood. An asthmatic, lanky sort of kid with a startling knack for trouble who grew up to be twice his own size. He finally learned to fit his reckless attitude into a body that could support a few punches and currently held the physical training course record at the Bureau.  

Then, there was Sam Wilson, a grade A pain in Bucky’s ass and a damn good fighter pilot in his air force days. Sam was responsible for making sense of the evidence Bucky brought back from his undercover meetups and monitoring for talk on Bucky’s identity, to ensure his cover was secure. When he wasn’t relentlessly mocking Bucky and flirting with the rookies, he was a decent agent and a better friend. He was a brother in arms and off the field. Fought like one, too.  

The last of the crew was Natasha Romanoff. A woman with more fire power in the tips of her fingernails than most men had in their entire body, Natasha was an ex-KGB agent who defected to the US following a shitshow of trauma and general maltreatment by her home country. She was the primary tech god in the Bureau and spent most of her time these days behind a keyboard. She’d spent enough time in the field and she wasn’t eager for more.  

This team was what allowed Bucky to take on new names, to dive deep undercover into new identities without fear of losing himself completely. There was always a hand stretching out to him to pull his body back to the surface when he needed it. He’d seen a lot in his years in undercover work, been asked to do things to protect his cover he’d never talk about again outside of his debriefings with Fury, and it was easy to forget who exactly Bucky Barnes was under all those lies.

His team kept him in track. It’s what made them so successful, how they were able to go from one city to the next, throw Bucky into a criminal underworld with a new name, and bring massive operations to justice.  

New name. New city. New criminals to take down.

James Karpov was just the next name on the list.

“Rumlow’s down a hitman,” Fury explained, clicking the remote on the slide as a man with dark brown hair and cold, brown eyes appeared on the screen.  

Bucky had seen that face before. He'd heard about the infamous mafia boss Brock Rumlow and his extensive team of lawyers who have been able to get him out of every charge the NYPD has been able to throw in his direction.  

He saw to the distribution of fentanyl laced drugs to the street of New York, the manufacturing of assault weapons, and the ordering of dozens of executions in the last month alone. He was a monster by anyone’s standards and Bucky could already feel the eagerness churn in his stomach. This was a job he was going to enjoy.  

“This is Jack Rollins,” Fury said as an image of a mug shot appeared next to Rumlow’s. “He was Rumlow’s last enforcer before he had the unfortunate luck of actually being arrested for his crimes. Damn field day down at the DA’s office when they finally nailed him.” Fury clicked to the next image as a crime scene photo displaying a very discolored Rollins lying with his eyes open, arm handing off the side of the bed. “He was also conveniently murdered in lock up while awaiting trial just a few days ago.”

“Bummer,” Sam snickered, nudging Natasha’s shoulder and earning a smirk in response. Rollins was behind dozens of murders under his time in Hydra. It was no real loss.

“This is our opportunity to infiltrate Hydra,” Fury continued, ignoring Sam’s remark. He leaned further onto the conference table, black leather of his trench coat swinging at his knees. “Barnes will meet with Rumlow next week to take on the role of the enforcer.”

“So, like a job interview?” Natasha raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.  

Fury shrugged. “Yeah, I suppose.”

Bucky thumbed through the file, skimming at the pages of information on Rumlow and his known associates; glancing over decades of monstrous crimes and gruesome crime scene photos. It was all pretty standard, nothing exceptionally out of the ordinary, except for Rumlow’s inflated ego and knack for theatrics. 

The pages were filled with crimes he’d been arrested for, crimes he’d been suspected of, and the all the ones in between. Each with their own summary as to why he was never brought it, why the charges were dropped, or how witnesses suddenly went missing hours before the trial, how evidence disappeared from lock up before it could be submitted to the court. Brock Rumlow was an entitled piece of work, it seemed, though that was no news to Bucky. 

Then, towards the back of the file, Bucky stumbled upon a single page nestled into the binding, one that took him by surprise because the image in the top right corner wasn’t that of a mugshot or one taken from a surveillance camera, it was an employee ID from Columbia.  

A bright, vibrant smile and eyes that lit up on the page, it seemed incredibly out of place amongst Rumlow’s rap sheet. Below the image, accomplishments were listed of various degrees held, charity functions hosted, employment at a prestigious university teaching courses in literary fiction and writing composition. All of which seemed to come to an abrupt halt three years ago.  

Bucky wondered if the page had been put in his file by mistake. That was, until he saw the last name listed in the top right corner.  

Y/n Rumlow. Wife of the head of Hydra.

Fury straightened his back, glancing down at his team as they absorbed themselves in the files, Steve already making notes in the margins as Natasha pulled out her laptop and the small clicks of her keyboard filtered through the concentrated silence. Sam was on his phone, calling up a contact from his former air force days who might have had some knowledge of the Rumlow family, but Bucky... Bucky was still stuck on the last page, the page with the woman who didn’t seem to fit in this world of crime and violence.  

“Get acquainted with your new identity, Barnes,” Fury ordered. “We’re taking down Hydra.”

[lindwyrmrelinquished]

So....what are some of your headcanons for Ranbutler?

OHHHHHHHHHH BUDDY, YOU ARE OPENING YOURSELF TO A WHOLE NEW CAN'O'BEANS HERE

OKAY SO FIRST OF ALL-

(everything else under the cut because there is a L O T )

Butler's human form is predominant(which unfortunately means he does not have a tail :(), but he can make Ender noises/speak Galactic. He's got a bunch of stims and tics, and making the Ender noises is one of them! He often makes them to fill the silence, or in times of high emotion(positive or negative. just imagine a Butler bouncing on his toes while excited Ender chirps keep coming out of his mouth, or he's rambling about something and half of it is layered with Galactic). Following from that, Butler has something that Billiam calls the "monochrome form". If he's under high levels of stress, whatever dark tint of color is in his right side will start spiking into the left side, making his skin darker(and, if he has enough color in his skin from NOT FUCKING OVERWORKING HIMSELF, it can get dark enough to blend into shadows) and spreading from the little black scales on his neck and cheeks and hands(which are already claws, that's why he wears gloves), and if he's really stressed/pissed, little horns are gonna start poking out of his skull and he's gonna be completely gray/black, his teeth are already deadly but they're gonna get sharper and if you look him in the eyes he will s c r e a m and very likely tear you apart if Billiam isn't there to hold him back/calm him down.

Speaking of! Butler very much dislikes eye contact. It makes them extremely uncomfortable and the Ender part is gonna start screaming to attack attack attack and the pupil-slit thing is gonna happen. Unfortunately, he's frozen by the eye contact and cannot move of his own free will, it's all going to be instinct to either get away or attack, if he moves at all. And the moment the eye contact is broken, he starts to calm down and all the screaming in his head starts to dissipate, so he doesn't really get the chance to consciously act on the Ender side's instinct.

NEXT OF ALL, throwing canon out the window and saying BILLIAM AND BUTLER ARE FOUND-FAMILY. The way they acted in the episode is just that, an act. In reality, they actually Care each other Very Very Much and have adopted each other into their respective hybrid groups(i.e Endermen have their hauntings, Piglins have their sounders{that part's not canon to mc but i yoinked it from a fic}). Hubert jokes about how Billiam accidentally adopted Bu as his son, but both Bu and Bi deny this. Hubert also got Liaria and James in on the joke and now these two are being constantly triple-teamed.

ON THAT NOTE Liaria and James know about the Egg. It happened at the tail end of Bu's first masquerade when they started accusing Billiam of committing all the murders, and Bu kind of panicked and outed himself as the killer, he pulled out the knife and everything. Billiam admitted that he knew about this, and showed them the Egg as explanation. Now Liaria and James willingly give up their bought lives to the Egg on the regular(we might get into the lives thing later{it was also something i yoinked from a fic, and then I gave it more explanation}) to keep Billiam and his family alive, but they're not all that affected by it due to not even being near it half the time.

AND ON THAT NOTE, let's talk about Butler's relationship with the Egg! Bad. It's bad. Absolutely terrible, the two despise each other immensely. I like to say they're the closest thing to caliginous that a teenaged hybrid that lived off spite and an ancient crimson demon can be. The Egg's hurt Bu a lot, and honestly that's part of the reason his contempt and fear for it is so high. But that's also part of the reason why Billiam was pulled out of its influence despite living right above it. Because he cares for Bu, a literal child that's suffered severe mental and physical trauma at the hands(well, vines) of the Egg. Honestly? Billiam wouldn't be the way he is now if he didn't have to take trips to the Nether. Short explanation, too much time away from their home realm gets hybrids really really sick. So, about a few months or so after Bu arrived, he had to yeet back there for a week and just told Butler and Hubert to take care of the mansion. And you know what Hubert did, that bitch? He took advantage of both Billiam's absence and Butler's skill and pampered himself while throwing the entire load onto the child. And then like halfway through the week, he got the idea to introduce said child to the Egg, who before then has had no idea it ever existed aside from the crimson red aura around the mansion(it's a whole thing about Endermen and magic but again, another thing I might get into later). He hadn't even attended a party before then. So, yeah, Hubert just left him down in one of the old cells for three days. Didn't even check on him, that bitch. And then when Billiam game back, suffice to say he was PISSED. He may be a rich bastard who causes murders biweekly, but even he has standards, and hurting a damn 7-8 year old child that bad was not one of them. he can't be held responsible for child labor, bu followed him home by his own choice. again, another whole backstory thing

Bu's genderfluid! He usually switches between he/him and they/them, and the direction he nods is a little indicator of which one(up for gender, down for no), but sometimes he uses she/her. Adding on that, due to Weird Enderman Genetics, he can manipulate his hair to grow real fast and likes to experiment with it in the mornings for Maximum Gender Euphoria This means that one day his hair could be barely touching his neck, and the next it's all the way down to his waist. It's a fun little anomaly and sometimes Billiam likes to play with it when it gets longer :3 travelling on the lgbt train, Bu is also ace/aro! This doesn't have much impact story-wise(usually), but it's just a fun little tidbit :3 On other, more Ender notes, he has pretty much all the traits an Enderman does, even if he looks fully human aside from being 6 inches taller than Sir Billiam himself. With the eye-contact thing, I've got a headcanon that Endermen can kind of read minds to an extent if they look into another entity's eyes, but it gets loud and borderline painful if anything but another Enderman does the same. Meanwhile, Bu's about the perfect mix of an Enderman and a Human(later called Players and Villagers depending on their capabilities) to be able to take at least a few seconds of eye contact. He can also teleport! To about the same extent as Endermen, if not a little less. Unfortunately, spending too much time in the void between teleportations(i.e a few hours for him, though an hour in the void is a minute in reality. It's why teleporting happens in the blink of an eye to anyone but the user) has some adverse effects. Bu's either glitched, gotten some sort of void-sickness like a flu but worse, and/or lost large chunks of memory each of the separate times he stuck himself in there for too long. Pure-blooded Endermen have a longer tolerance, but even they can succumb to the void with enough time.

Bu's also hurt by water, and the first time Billiam really figured this out is when he dragged him to the roof because it was raining and for some reason, Bi really likes the rain. Bu, on the other hand, was hospitalized for a day once Billiam actually realized, "oh, he's burning" Unfortunately, Bu can still produce tears, so he's got some scars on his cheeks and hands from those, Luckily, though! Billiam got him some gloves and a facemask reminiscent of cc!Ranboo to hide those scars because bu's. really self-conscious about them :,D

But also he's got TOE BEANS,

[ahem] So Endermen are basically giant block-holding teleporting cats and no one can convince me very much otherwise. So on the one hand, they have giant hands shaped for holding blocks. On the other hand, T O E B E A N S

So Bu's got beans on the pads of his fingers and feet(which also end in claws with a black gradient because Peak Character Design <3). Billiam likes to hold his hands on the rare occasion he doesn't wear his gloves because mans likes to stim with those toe beans. Meanwhile Billiam himself has nicely-textured hands because of his Piglin hooves and Bu also likes to stim with them, so just. them holding each others hands for mutual stimmage

[ahem] anyway

Bu stims!! He flaps his hands and does thing really rapidly and harshly when he's really high-strung, which doesn't happen often, at least in front of people. Boy's got anxiety so he's had his fair share of panic attacks :,D he just knows how to disguise them so people don't see, but Billiam knows the signs at this point. But he also has a lot of vocal stims/tics, mainly lots of Enderman noises, some popping and a little screechy thing here and there. Sometimes he picks up a sound and then repeats it a whole bunch because it feels nice on the tongue :] there's also these poofs of particles that happen when he's happy, they look like mini purple fireworks and they're like an expulsion of magic, he can feel when they happen and it feels nice :]

(cw for self-harm in this paragraph and the followed copy-pasted convo)

[ahemhemhem] So y'know how Butler's an Ender-hybrid? His hands and feet reflect that(along with the ears, the eyes, the height, the abilities, but we're talking about about the hands here). Part of why he keeps those gloves on almost 24/7 is to dull his claws, which are not so much an intentional danger to others rather than an unintentional danger to himself. He's got tics and stims and is very neurodivergent and has anxiety(me projecting? noooo /hj), so he gets very nervous very easily. And one of his nervous habits rather than wringing his hands, fidgeting, and (if really bad)a heightened amount of tics, he tends to scratch at his arms. His claws can tear through the fabric easily, and more than one or two suits have been sent back to the tailors for repairs to the sleeves. However, having both padded sleeves and padded gloves nullifies that, so he always wears them special-made. If he didn't have that habit, he likely wouldn't have the gloves on as often as he does.

Friend Hey good headcanons 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀 Also ohhhh my god Billiam fussing over him and his gloves until he gets them to be the right amount of padded where Bu can still do things but also not hurt himself

Me gbfhdgbhgsfhbgsfdhdf He keeps examining them every time the tailors try but it doesn't feel right until That Specific Try so he just plops the gloves back on the counter and says "Do it again"

Friend They spend an entire day doing nothing but making gloves while Billiam & Hubert take turns watching Butler to make sure he stays safe

Me Absolutely Problem is Butler can feel eyes on him. And eyes make him nervous :,) so when he gets nervous. he starts to scratch at his arms again and anxiety is too much for him to ask them to stop watching him

Friend It ends up with them just having to hold his hands, looking at random things (they can go sit on the balcony or something so they have something pretty to look at)

Me That hold on actually that's adorable-

Friend Fhhdjdjdjsjsj they're friends your honor

Me Absolutely Even Hubert contributes to keeping him safe. And Hubert's afraid of even being near Butler

Friend And then we get bonding via the oh no Billiam is busy and Hubert has to take care of Bu for the next 3 hours

Me GHDSFGSHFGS THAT IS A GREAT IDEA Butler insists he can do everything himself, nothing's different about the routine, and then he has a mental breakdown when he tries to make food without anyone else in the kitchen- Cause usually Hubert's there, even if he's making something else. There's at least another presence, and that's the sort of thing that's calming for Bu. But Hubert's off setting up the table for lunch/dinner or something and Butler makes One minor slip-up and spirals from there until he's struggling even handling spice mixing The same thing happened with cookies one time, and both times Hubert found him borderline unable to function because he panicked too much and helped him out of it.

Friend Butler is just curled up in the kitchen, trying to have a quiet panic attack because he can't cause the others any more trouble than he already is, and Hubert is very quietly upset about helping him because he was doing so good at avoiding Bu but here he is again being the only thing that's letting this kid breathe

Me Absolutely

Friend Do you think Bu passes out on him? Like Hubert (probably reluctantly) gives Butler a hug cause those help, and Bu was just supposed to stay there until he felt better, but panic attacks are exhausting and he fell asleep at some point-

Me Oh my gods he would though, especially with the amount of sleep he gets He'd have to try so hard to even stay conscious, much less do things in the manner he usually does, and Hubert just quietly tells him that it's okay to sleep; he'll take care of everything. Hu never forgets that of course Bu's always in danger around him - he has fleeting thoughts and quite often knows how to act on them - but he stands up holding an exhausted child and takes him to his room so he can rest. Butler may want him to stay; Endermen usually want someone around when sleeping. It's the security of having someone watch for nightmares, but Hubert doesn't stay. He has to go back to the kitchen and finish that meal Bu was making. But if he's still asleep by the time Hu's done with everything, he might linger outside his door, listening in for anything bad.

(Okay the cw is over now, you may now go back to your regularly scheduled content :,D)

Also, one last thing: Billiam gives Butler a bunch of gold things(including the masquerade mask) because that's what Piglins do with their sounders, they cover them in gold to show they care. And after Bu finding out the reason why Billiam's been handing off a bunch of gold things to him he does not cry, because that would hurt his face, but he does feel quite a lot of things that make him want to because holy shit Billiam feels the same

Butler is Billiam's sounder and Billiam is Butler's haunting, they are family your honor

[k7l4d4]

Midnight Striga: Fairy Tail/Owl House Crossover Episode 1 Part 3

Hey, once again, Crossover time, with your host, me! Everybody clap your hands!!!

Lightning crashed, and thunder rumbled outside the ominous spire of stone and lost hope that was the Conformatorium. As Luz took in the sight before her, she turned a flat stare towards the smirking Witch next to her. “What was that you said about this place being super fun?”

Ignoring Eda’s chuckle, Luz panned her vision across the area, giving herself a rough idea of the layout for the building, before her eye caught on a poster tacked to a nearby wall. Walking up to it, she yanked it down to see an artistic representation of Eda and King, complete with Bounty. She let out a low whistle at the figure. “Wow, these guys really got the hots for you.”

“Yeah, but they’ve never caught me.” Eda preened with pride, deftly stuffing the flyer into her hair. “King’s got some moves of his own when it comes to giving people the slip.”

“Yeah! Just try and catch me when I’m greased,” King cheered, eager to talk about his skills. “I’m a squirmy little fella!”

“Heh, I’ll take your word for it.” Luz grinned.

Eda smirked, gesturing for Luz and King to come in closer. “Alright, I’ll make a distraction to keep Wrath and his goons preoccupied. You two will make your way to the Vault from above.” She paused to conjure up a platform, the transport they would use to ascend. “I’ll do my best to keep Wrath and the Guards from getting to you, but for that to work, I’ll need you guys to keep your heads down in there. Can I count on you?” She turned a solemn face towards Luz at her question.

Luz made a small show of mulling it over, before grinning brightly. “Don’t worry about it. This isn’t my first time sneaking around somewhere I’m not supposed to be, after all.”

“Ugh, enough with the emotions, let’s just go already!” King complained, eager to get inside.

With a huff of amusement, Luz leapt onto the platform, scooping up King with an indignant squawk, before signalling Eda to send them up. As Luz rose through the air, she calmed the giddy excitement bubbling up inside, letting her face and emotions go blank. She needed to focus, to prepare herself for the fight her instincts were SCREAMING was coming their way.

As the platform reached its apex, just short of the window they needed to get to, Luz dully noted, she once more picked up King, this time with only a slight grumble of protest, and launched them both upwards. As they soared through the window, Luz caught herself in a three-point landing, fist planted in front of her chest, legs spread to catch her weight, a practically superhero-esque look… and then King slammed into the ground next to her with a grunt.

Chuckling sheepishly, Luz pulled the small demon up. As they walked towards their goal, Luz couldn’t help but marvel at the interior; this place may have been an evil den of corrupt tyranny, but she couldn’t deny the place was stylish, in a “step out of line and get wasted” sort of way. One thing that bothered her, though, was how empty it was. Luz had been around the block more than once, and she was fully aware of how much crime could get up to in any civilization, especially one that cared more about preserving things a certain way than helping the people, so the sheer barrenness of the cells was… unsettling to see.

Finally, she broke the silence. “Hey King, where are all the prisoners?”

“Weh? I don’t know. Why do you ask?” King replied. He wouldn’t openly admit it, but he was kind of weirded out by how empty this place was himself.

Luz’s curious look gained a more serious edge. “Because, no prison, whether the prisoners deserve to be in it or not, should be this level of empty unless it’s abandoned.” Luz’s scanning of the surroundings gained a hint of nervousness at that point. “I just can’t shake the feeling that something bad goes on here. You know, besides the whole “imprisoning for failure to submit to societal norms” thing.” Her frank bluntness would’ve been funny, if the situation hadn’t been so grim.

King glanced around, now feeling far more nervous about being here. “Now that you mention it, a lot of people get dragged here, but you don’t really hear much about them afterwards…”

“Hey kid, how did you get out of your cell?”

Turning their heads in surprise, both King and Luz were mildly surprised to find actual prisoners ahead of them. The one who had called out, a Witch-girl with dusky skin, two prominent canines that bordered on fangs, and an almost sleepy look to her, was beckoning them closer. It made sense, no one liked being in prison, and Luz’s gut wasn’t giving her any warnings about her. So, with that in mind, Luz sidled up to the bars.

Luz cleared her throat. “Not a prisoner actually, also, not technically a criminal.” She ignored King’s shout of ‘Not Yet Your Not!’ “Mind if I ask how you all ended up in a dump like this?” Okay, maybe it was cheesy, but Luz wasn’t gonna not ask how a group ended up in prison; what other time would she get the opportunity?

The prisoner chuckled, a bitter sound, the type you hear from someone who doesn’t really expect to be happy ever again and is just going through the motions. “Never thought someone would have the time or desire to ask me that. I got stuffed in here for writing stories about food falling in love with each other.” She held up a notebook with an image of two vegetables kissing on the open page. “And I know you didn’t ask, but the name’s Katya. You’re the first person to actually care about me in a long while.”

“Same with the rest of us.” Commented the prisoner next to the now-named Katya, a pale-blue fellow with multiple eyes. “I got put in here for eating my own eyes.” He then demonstrated, preempting Luz’s question, popping out one of his eyes, swallowing it whole, and then regrowing it perfectly. It was as fascinating as it was disturbing.

A muffled thumping came from the last occupied cell. Turning to it, Luz saw a small, white, ball-shaped creature that seemed to be a head with arms and legs sticking out of it. A cloth gag was tied tight over what Luz assumed was its mouth, the thumping coming from the creature slamming against things as it furiously clawed and yanked at the gag.

Turning a questioning stare to the others, Luz asked, “What’s going with that one?”

Katya snorted, a tired humor in her eyes. “Yeah, she’s big on conspiracy theories. She ended up annoying the guards so much they gagged her to keep her quiet. Which I thought was kinda lame, she had some fun stuff to say. Also, she really dislikes the government, which probably didn’t help her either.”

Luz was furious. No, scratch that, she was beyond furious. She was so angry, all she could show was calm. King could physically feel the rage seeping off of her. Speaking in a voice so coldly furious, Luz bit out. “So, what you’re telling me, is that you guys haven’t actually committed any crimes, and got thrown in here for being different?”

Katya let out a sad sigh. “Pretty much kid. Wrath really likes throwing anyone he considers “unsuitable” for society in here. And we happen to fit his definition of unsuitable.” She gave a soft grin towards the still irate human. “But hey, at least we got the chance to tell someone, right? Not many get that chance.”

Luz hyper-focused on that last part, instantly trying to process that statement alongside her concerns from earlier. “What do you mean by that?”

Katya gave an ominous stare. “A lot of people come into this place, but it isn’t much of a prison. It’s more a waystop before they get shipped off to the Emperor’s Castle; whatever goes on in there, we don’t know, but some people come out, utterly broken… and others don’t come back at all. Because so few people are actually here at any time, there aren’t many guards, but considering how tough Wrath himself is, it doesn’t make much of a difference.”

Luz's blood ran cold. The details may have been sparse, but what little she had been given painted a rather… ugly picture. There was no way she could leave these guys here. Glancing around, she spotted the lever that would release the cells (she honestly wondered how she missed it at first), and started tugging on it. At the slight motion of the heavy piece of metal, Luz was torn between frustration at how slow-going it was, and satisfaction at being able to move it at all. Just as she felt she was making progress, she paused, the sharp rumbling of heavy footfalls approaching in their direction.

“What are you fools yammering about?”

The voice that spoke was sinister, rumbling, and had a grating edge to it that set every nerve in Luz’s body on fire. Just as the figure was about to enter visual range, Luz gave a leap, clinging to the shadow-cloaked walls above. The amazement the prisoners felt at watching her feat was quickly squashed as the source of the voice pulled into view. A hulking, muscular figure, what little of his body could be seen having a purple tone to it. His body was clad in a white tunic, a triangular badge displayed proudly across his chest; the plague doctor-like mask sent chills up Luz’s spine. There was no doubts, this was the infamous Warden Wrath.

The Warden loomed over his prisoners, an almost palpable ruthlessness bleeding off of him. Glancing down, he spotted what he assumed was the topic of their discussion. “Ah.” He pulled up what Luz could see was a copy of that same wanted poster of Eda she had seen before. “The Owl Lady.” He brutally crushed the paper in his grip. “She escaped me before, but soon, she will be within my grasp.”

Alarm bells began ringing in Luz’s head, and as she looked down and saw King, hidden in the dark corners of one of the cells, the blind panic in his eyes made it clear he felt that fear too. Suddenly a sharp gasp drew their attention. “Aiw!!! I can bweathe again!!” It was the last prisoner, having finally managed to work the gag off of her face. Refocusing on the present, the tiny inmate began a tirade at the sight of Wrath. “The voices of independence cannot be silenced!! We will suwvive, we will enduwe, we will cast off ouw oppwessows!! We will neveh be afwaid of you, you big old cweep!!!”

Speech impediment aside, Luz couldn’t help but feel impressed at the courage it took to speak your true feelings, even in such a bleak situation. That admiration turned to dread, however, when she saw the Warden move towards the lever to the cells. While he didn’t see her, she could feel the air hum around him as he easily lifted what she struggled to even budge.

As the doors to the cells opened, the smallest prisoner gasped in delight. “Hooway, I’m fwee!” Eager to take advantage of her apparent freedom, the conspiracy theorist took off like a bullet, only to be effortlessly snagged by Wrath. As Wrath ruthlessly pulped the prisoner in his hand, the resulting squeak more menacing than humorous as he laughed over it, he calmly stated something that would forever infuriate Luz, even years later: “Remember, there is no place for you in society if you can’t fit in.”

As Wrath wandered off, to where Luz didn’t care, still clutching and tormenting the small prisoner, Luz leapt down as silently as she could, King rushing to join her. As she opened her mouth, hoping to say something, Katya raised a hand to stop her. The light that had been in her and the other prisoner’s eyes? It was gone, that little spark of hope had been snuffed out. Still, Katya tried to pull off a smile. “Just go kid. Go and enjoy freedom for us.”

Luz and King traded sad looks, before walking off. King, he didn’t know what to do with this. He was used to feeling unstoppable, weakened form notwithstanding, so feeling… bad for someone was new to him; he didn’t like it. Luz, she was angry, furious, apoplectic, basically every word you could use to describe being angry she was feeling right now. Before everything happened, she was used to feeling like an outsider, like people didn’t want to be around her because she was different from everybody else, but even at her lowest, she was never made to feel as if being herself, that being weird, was unacceptable on par with the worst of crimes. Luz knew one thing; when this heist was over, she was going to bring this place crashing to the ground.

As Luz and King mulled over their conflicted emotions, Eda ran up, a mischievous grin stretched across her face. “Alright gang, the Warden’s distracted tormenting some tiny creature and- what’s with the long faces?” Her grin wiped itself away at the depressed aura surrounding the two.

Luz turned a nervous eye towards Eda. “Hey, Eda? How often do people get sent to this place?”

Eda blinked, a little confused at the question. “Fairly regularly, at least once a week I’d say. Why do you ask?”

Luz gulped, not liking what she was about to say. “Well, how often do people come back out? And, if people come here so often, why are there so few prisoners?”

Eda paused, considering the question. As the possible answer, or answers, dawned on her, she grew grim, face pale. “Okay, yeah, that’s something I hadn’t thought about before. We need to get that crown, and get out of here as soon as possible.”

Luz nodded, a look of concentration upon her face. “Yeah. We overheard the Warden earlier, and the way he was talking? I think this may be a trap to lure you here.”

Eda blinked at that, then facepalmed. “Ugh! I can’t believe I didn’t think of that! Well, we better make this quick then.”

King piped up at that. “Then we better get going! The sooner we get my crown, the sooner Wrath stops being our problem!” With that said, he stomped towards a pair of very impressive doors.

[maximumjinx]

Ladybug’s Finale Chapter 4

1, 2 3

“What are you doing for lunch?”

Marinette only stared at her blonde desk mate. She must have heard him wrong.

“Eating?” Was the only response she could think of. Fantastic.

Adrien giggled, which was off-putting since Marinette was pretty sure she’s never seen either Adrien or Chat giggle. Adrien usually politely smiles. Chat chuckles. This was new.

“I meant-” He smiled so easily, “can we eat together?”

Marinette wanted to say yes, but she had already promised Fu she would go in for another training session.

However, she was pretty far ahead if her suit and weapons had anything to say about it.

“If you’re free, don’t you want to eat with Nino?”

“Oh, I’m absolutely not free.” Adrien grinned even wider. Marinette was afraid Fu may have broke him. “And he’s not my biggest fan right now.”

“Wait-” she raised an eyebrow, “you’re not free?”

“I have a piano lesson. But I’m tired and feel like breaking my diet with sugar.”

Marinette stifled a laugh.

“Sure, I can help with that.”

“Perfect.”

When lunch rolled around, Marinette was sure they weren’t going to slip past the rest of the class unnoticed.

“Sunshine, I love you boy but you definitely owe me an apology.” Alya stood tall with Lila and Nino behind her, blocking the door. Adrien only groaned. Marinette stood on edge.

“Alya I will, but not until my friend gets an apology first.” Adrien narrowed his eyes and slung an arm around Marinette’s shoulders. She was stiff as a board.

Nino only looked confused, “Are we not all friends?”

Adrien gave him a sad smile and turned to Marinette. Oh, she was supposed to answer this one.

“We are,” she said gently, “but if I’m honest you guys haven’t been very good ones lately.”

Marinette could feel venomous words begins to pile in her mouth. Everything she wanted to say and scream to her classmates and Alya. She clenched her fist and felt her chest grow cold.

“What are you talking about?” Alya defended. “You’re my b-best friend.” She said ‘best’ weakly, glancing at Lila who remained silent. Marinette knew she wasn’t Alya’s best friend, they haven’t been that for a while.

“Marinette, why are trying to tell Adrien that we’re bad friends?” Lila’s lower lip trembled, a perfected move that sent the class into a jumble of overlapping whispers.

“Dude, you turned my bro against me?” Nino looked like he was a puppy that had just been kicked.

“That’s not cool!”

“Aren’t you always preaching unity?”

“Marinette, you’re supposed to accept everyone!”

Marinette barked out a sharp laugh. The class fell into silence. She glanced around the room at people she hadn’t spoken to in months. Turned against an everyday Ladybug in moments with just one line from Rossi.

“I do accept everyone. Except those that have hurt me and my friends.” She looked directly at Lila, who still wore glistening tears. “And right now the only person to have stood up for me, defended me, hell- even spoken to me- is Adrien.”

Alya looked like she wanted to refute that, but months of radio silence between the two girls reminded her that Marinette had a point.

Adrien took his arm off Marinette’s shoulder and instead offered her his elbow.

“Not to end this incredibly uncomfortable conversation short,” he glanced at the class, “but I’m starving.”

She tentatively put her arm around his and the two walked out. Alya moved aside, lips tightly pressed together. Lila sent Marinette a seething glare.

Marinette however, felt a bit better. She felt a small amount of weight relieved from the pit of her stomach. She still has more to say, but Marinette was beginning to feel less numb.

It was still a lot. It felt as if her heart were buzzing awake with pins and needles, after keeping her emotions in check all this time. She glanced at Adrien as they walked to her house.

She wasn’t beginning to get feelings again, right?

—

No, Marinette decided she was not.

Well, at least a little less after watching the boy hungarily and messily scarf down 12 (yes, 12) filled croissants.

“You’re gonna regret that later.”

Adrien only shrugged.

“I’ll die with dignity.” He said, chocolate and jam covering half his face.

Marinette passed him a few napkins, chuckling as he flushed pink and quickly scrubbed his face.

“In my defense, salad isn’t quite as messy.”

“What about dressing?”

Adrien sat straight, placing his ring and middle finger on the bridge of his nose. Marinette could almost see the outline of glasses.

“Too much sugar and oil,” he spoke in a perfect impression of Nathalie, “you’re father expects clear skin for shoots.”

Marinette snorted, “So you had rabbit food? That explains a lot.”

“Like what?”

“Like why you looked miserable 99% of the time.”

“Touché.”

The two sat in her living room, not quite going into her bedroom not for fear of finding embarrassing, but it would be hard to explain why she had a detailed chart of akumas and Gabriel Agreste in her room.

“So-“ she knew why, but she wanted to ask, “Why grow a spine today?”

“Ouch,” Adrien smirked, “that was harsh.”

“Yeah, well.”

Adrien nodded. It was fair. Why today? After his talk with Ladybug, giving up Plagg, and training with Master Fu he decided why stop there. If he was going to change into someone worthy of a miraculous he had to start with the person that got Fu’s attention.

He could hardly tell Marinette though.

“I can’t think of an answer that would satisfy you.” He warned.

“Then how about the truth?” She turned her body on the couch and waited.

Adrien sighed, leaning back to let the food inside him settle. He turned his head to face her, his hair beginning to curl around his cheeks and a top his head.

Marinette blinked. He looked exactly like Chat like this.

“Guilt, for being a bad friend when I knew what Lila was doing bothered you.” He dropped his eyes from Marinette’s gaze. “Not bothering- it hurt you. I’m also trying to change myself. I learned something recently that really put my world on its head. It changed my perspective on who I was and who I want to be. I want to be better than ‘Adrien Agreste’.”

“But that’s you, that’s who you are.”

He shook his head.

“I dislike half the things I do. I don’t eat, don’t dress comfortably or how I like, and I don’t speak out. I didn’t against my father and I guess against what was happening to you. I can never say sorry enough.”

“Well, I didn’t reach out either.” Marinette gave a weak laugh. Adrien watched Marinette fiddle with her food, and sat up.

“You can talk to me. Tell me about these last few months. If you want to, that is.”

Marinette shrugged.

“I got a lot done, like how I used to before Alya and you came to our school.”

“I already knew you can be productive.” He nudged her gently.

“I guess it was a little lonely.” She didn’t want pity. So she didn’t look at him. “I missed class events. They didn’t invite me because my invite got lost or was sent to the wrong number. Then they didn’t invite me because they forgot. Then, they just...didn’t.”

She steeled herself, and kept going.

“They didn’t talk to me. They didn’t come to things they promised beforehand, or help me on projects, or include me in anything! Every single thing I’ve done for them, because I wanted to, because they were my friends it all disappeared like none of it mattered.” She had to calm down. She felt her body begin to warm up, and dissolve the numb she had put around herself. “I...didn’t matter.”

She didn’t know if Adrien responded, she was too focused on stopping the negative thoughts. She had to be numb, Hawkmoth can’t akumatize numb.

Adrien opened his mouth, but before anything came out the two heard a large crash followed by screams on the street.

They whipped around to face one another, eyes wide.

“Akuma.” They both breathed out.

“I have to go!” Adrien jumped up, immediately wincing. He was beginning to regret his sugar spree.

He felt a lacking on his finger. He had to get to Fu as soon as possible.

“Yup, go ahead, be safe!” Marinette rushed, all while almost pushing him out the door. Once the lock clicked she let out a breath and a small smile. “See you soon Kitty.”

--

“I know I totally made this decision, but I’m so damn tired and running without a suit on through impending doom after busting my ass this morning is a terrible consequence.” Adrien wheezed, finally arriving at Master Fu. Plagg phased through the door with the ring immediately, before Adrien could raise an arm to knock. 

“Took you long enough kid.” 

Adrien couldn’t take a breath to glare at his kwami, only muttered a Claws Out. 

Chat Noir raced to where the screams sounded the loudest, spotting his partner’s dark red hood in the midst of the chaos. 

“You look winded.” She smirked when he landed.

“No way,” he gasped, “I just like taking deep breaths of air. All at once.”

She snorted, then pointed to where a dark purple figure was in the center. The Akuma was levitating in the air, black streaks coming from their eyes and down their face and neck. The Akuma’s power wasn’t completely known yet, it seemed to be hitting people with a beam, but there was no physical reaction from the victims. 

“You think it’s Rossi again?” Chat asked, unable to make out who the Akuma was, however it did look like it had a feminine shape.

“Then the city would be on fire.” Ladybug looked at those running away. It seemed that everyone hit was collapsing, some hunched over and others openly sobbing. “What is she doing to them?”

“Let’s dodge her beams and kick her butt?” 

“Sounds like any other fight.” Ladybug pursed her lips. This akuma didn’t feel right. 

“Ladybug and Chat Noir!” The akuma screamed, desperately into the air. “To make this pain stop, I need your miraculous!” 

Chat wanted to run in, claws blazing, but Ladybug looked hesitant. She wrapped her arm around his waist and swung them to a rooftop on the side, out of reach but within ear shot. 

“What are you doing to these people?” Ladybug shouted, the victims beginning to wail.

The akuma only cried, without the petty malice of other Akumas. “They’re experiencing their worst guilt ten times over. All their regrets, their mistakes are flooding them once again.” 

Chat’s eyes widened. “Oh geez.” 

“Okay we really have to avoid that.” Ladybug muttered. She lunged, searching for something to break. The Akumas form was skintight. She scoffed, Hawkmoth needed to upgrade his designs. 

“Oh god, he’s a freaking designer. What the hell, Agreste.”

“Meowch Bug, what did I do?” Chat called, whipping his baton towards the akuma. Fu taught him earlier, the cat miraculous is supposed to handle the brunt of the work. Distractions were fine, but his job was to hold them down. The baton hit the akuma in the gut, wrenching her out of the sky and slamming her into the pavement. 

Ladybug could now see her closely. Her suit looked like melted plastic, blues and purples bleeding into one another and held together with what looked like black string tied around her waist over and over. 

“Where’s the akuma?”Chat placed a glove on the string, and suddenly screamed in agony. 

“Chat?” Ladybug suddenly panicked, seeing her partner put a bloody hand away. The material of the Akuma’s suit immediately spiked into sharp, glass-like shards upon contact. It has been the first thing to have pierced through the magic fabric of their suits.

“What the fuck?” Chat immediately jumped back, the akuma breaking out into a broken laugh. 

“You can’t stop me. I’m Remorse incarnate.” She hiccuped, flying into the air once again. “My emotions are my weapon. My guilt is your downfall.”

Ladybug pulled Chat out, ducking behind a building as he tended to his hand. 

“How’s your hand?” She could see it begin to heal, the leather of his suit building over the torn skin. 

“It’s fine, I’m worried about Plagg though.” He furrowed his brows.

“What is it?”

“I got a good look at her.” He turned to Ladybug, clearly upset. “It’s Alya Cesaire.” 

--TAGLIST--

@shannaro-sakura @uninspired-writer @magic-miraculous @mividaexo @juhavs @salsyy301 @liamnl @reblog-trasher@autumnhunter1 @grimmhallow31 @f0xylegs @amelyhot @marichat00@peachedpocky @sturchling @elmokingkong @corabeth11 @akana-sama@ephemeral-firefly @dani-ari @whatsupwithjinx @bobothyross @introverted-book-enthusiast @saltystickofbutter @kristycocopop @s-tabcra-b @yes-friends-it-is-i @razzledazzle247 @rosesareskyblue @themamaravenclaw @sili-a @mysweetchaton @silvergold-swirl @internet-or-sleep @zoeytheweeb @friedchickening @crayon-lord-kyksei @subtlyundead @gwennex

[mistymark]

the one where you’re someone else. [donghyuck] [part 1]

lee donghyuck x reader // words // high school!au // body switch!au

summary; in which you wake up in someone else’s body. more than once.

warnings: swearing, confusion, terrible enemies to lovers trope

requested; nope

“So, is your face just... like that, or do you consciously have a permanent frown?” Donghyuck looks you up and down, his eyes narrowed. The left side of his mouth lifts up slightly at the way you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Have you ever toyed with the thought that it’s just you that I dislike?” You look at him briefly, standing on the other side of your open locker door, unluckily located right beside his. Since he began the conversation, he’d closed his locker so now he was leaning against the door in a stance that was all too casual and all too annoying. You could swear you could smell his bad breath from where you were standing. Your nose wrinkles at the thought.

“Ooh, ‘dislike’, ” a wide smile makes its way onto his face. “Didnt you ‘hate’ me yesterday? You’re not going soft on me, are you?”

Rolling your eyes, you decide not to grace him with a response. Instead, you look up to the top corner of your locker where you’d tacked your class schedule. Donghyuck’s gaze flicks from your face to the top of corner of your locker door, as if he could see through the metal.

Easily reaching over the door’s edge, his hand finds the piece of paper before you can work out what your first class of the day is. He easily pulls it from its position, looking at it, “Whats this?” Looking up at you, he feigns hurt, placing a hand over his heart, “Aw, y/n. Did you forget we have history together? I’m disappointed.”

“Very funny,” you deadpan. You hold out a hand, “Give it back.”

“History, literature, calculus,” he reads your schedule for the day out loud, but you’re unsure which day he’s reading since he’d taken it before you could see.

“Donghyuck.” His eyes snap up to look at you through his lashes; he can sense your growing frustration.

“Y/n,” he mocks. He holds it over his head, “Take it.”

You’re so sick of him.

You simply raise your hand, not making any effort to jump or stand taller. At some point he’s going to have to get bored of this game.

But you haven’t noticed his other hand reopening his locker. As quickly as he’d taken it from your locker, he places it in his own, quickly shutting the door. You stand in stunned silence as he bends down to pick his backpack up from where it has been previously sitting by his feet.

“See you in history, y/n,” he smirks. Asshole.

You watch him go, and as soon as he’s rounded the corner, you reach over as subtly as you can and play with his locker handle. No use. But a few odd looks from people walking past who can see you rattling the handle.

With a huff, you grab your books for history and start walking in the direction of your homeroom. On second thought, you walk back to your locker and stuff a few of your other textbooks in it, ignoring the weight and deciding its better to be prepared for any class you have next than be late to go get books.

——————

“Well if it isn’t the hunchback of notre dam,” Jongho greets, watching as you wearily place your backpack at your feet beside your usual cafeteria table.

“Yeah, well, Mr Lim made me stay back and i didn’t want to get stuck in the long lines so I came straight here. Call me when the bell needs to be rung,” you stretch your arms over your head, feeling your back crack as you move.

“Why are you carrying all your books?” San looks wearily into your backpack.

“Forget your locker combo?” Wooyoung asks, then sits back in his seat, stretching out in a cocky manner. “Been there before. Busted my lock a month in, and now it doesn’t even work!”

Seonghwa rolls his eyes and leans forward on his elbows, “Seriously, y/n, I could hear your back cracking from over here.”

“Donghyuck took my schedule and I didn’t know what classes I had, so I packed for all,” you shrug, not really seeing an issue with your idea. It’s not like you were walking long distances, anyway.

“Seriously? He’s still messing with you?” San’s brows furrow.

“Yeah, because she’s still messing with him,” Yunho laughs, and then laughs harder when you shrug in agreement.

“Why didn’t you just use your phone?” Hongjoong asks, spooning a mouthful of soggy salad onto San’s tray, who looks at the food in disgust. He pushes the tray away and settles his attention back onto you. You suddenly feel like an idiot for not checking your phone. At least you won’t have to carry your books around for the rest of the day.

“What did you do to him?!” Wooyoung excitedly turns around in his seat, eager to hear what brought on such a bitter revenge.

“Okay, so maybe, someone took something from him and he didn’t like it so much,” you look at them all in turn. “But no one knows who did it, and there’s no evidence to say i did-“

“But there’s definitely motive,” Jongho smirks.

“I don’t think pure undying hatred counts as a motive.” You raise an eyebrow at Seonghwa’s dry tone, but he just shrugs in response.

“No, he ‘accidentally’ squirted her with a hose at the car wash fundraiser,” Yunho laughs, recalling the memory of you shrieking from the cold water.

“Because she ‘forgot’ to turn off the tap and he got a hose to the face, right?” Yeosang pipes up, his chin resting in his hand on the table.

“Jesus, y/n, it’s impossible to keep up with you two,” Seonghwa throws his hands up in defeat.

“Well, he started it, so every time I retaliate it’s just me trying to settle the score,” you try and explain in the most innocent tone you can muster. He rolls his eyes but you can see the small smile that settles on his face as he looks away from you.

“What are you going to do?” San’s eyes widen at the look in your eye.

“I’m not sure,” you think, glancing quickly over your shoulder at the lunch line, which you still haven’t joined. It’s shorter now that most people in this lunch block have already sat down, and you feel your stomach rumble. Almost immediately, you spot the person in question, joking with a few of his friends in line. “I’m gonna get some food. I’ll be right back.”

Grabbing a tray from the stand, you join the line, only a few people behind them. While playfully shoving Jeno, Donghyuck’s eyes find you over Jeno’s shoulder.

“Hey, y/n!” He calls out.

You pretend not to hear.

He smiles wider; he knows exactly what you’re doing. Raising his voice slightly, he calls out again.

Once again, you ignore him.

Renjun shakes his head as he hits Donghyuck on the arm, but Donghyuck’s eyes don’t leave your face, which are intently searching the room. He pushes Renjun’s hand away and then raises his voice an impossible amount, “Y/n! Over here!” It feels like all eyes have turned your way.

You startle at the sudden outburst, and you look to him in exasperation. At the sight of his smirk, you bristle, roll your shoulders back and quietly respond, “What?” You pretend not to notice the people who are still watching you.

“Wanna join us in line?” Donghyuck gestures down to the floor at his feet in a way that makes you think he’s up to something.

“I’m not cutting line,” you say.

Without missing a beat, he shoves the shoulder of the person nearest to him, which just so happens to be Renjun, who is still standing right beside him. With a quick shove, Renjun stumbles out of line and between two nearby cafeteria tables. With a bright smile, Donghyuck gestures to the space Renjun had previously been standing, “Its not cutting if no people are added to the line.”

“It’s still cutting,” you say, your expression showing how bored you were of this conversation.

He doesn’t have time to respond as Renjun comes flying into Donghyuck, swearing (you presume) at him in Chinese. You didn’t know much about Renjun, with the exception of the fact that he’s Chinese and hangs out with Donghyuck. It was due to the latter that you hadnt really been excited to speak to him. Right now, you take a quick liking to the guy.

The argument continues as the line moves, and you take your tray around them to get your lunch, making your way to your table before theyve even begun paying for their food.

“What was that about?” Yunho asks as soon as you’ve sat down, his eyebrows furrowing as he looks over your head to where Donghyuck and his friends are walking to their own table. Renjun appears to be the only one not laughing.

“I don’t know, but Donghyuck tried to give up Renjuns spot in line for me,” you look down at your food, eyeing the cold french fried on your tray, cringing.

“How... nice of him?” Wooyoung says, and one look around the group makes you all simultaneously burst out into laughter.

[the-daily-multi-fandom-post]

Part two to this request (—here—)

“Can you write a story where the reader had a one night stand with Merle and got pregnant at the Atlanta camp, she didn't tell anyone because even though Merle wasn't a dick when it came to her, she was scared of the others' reactions. When you're at the farm with the group Shane notices your stomach showing and he calls you out on your secret. Daryl takes you under his wing and treats you like a sister. And Merle's reaction at prison b4 he dies. Maybe Y/n falls in love with Tara later on? Love u”

This is part two for this request. Link here

👉______👈 For the first part.

Request: anom.

Tags: @thanossexual

Y/an heart broke seeing the love of her life as one of those monsters. The little baby she had with Merle was in her arms when she and Dayrl found Merle eating someone it broke both of their hearts. Y/n was sobbing catching the attention of walker Merle. Dayrl was sobbing too, watching as his undead brother started limping towards them.

Dayrl pushed Merle backwards away from Y/n and her baby. Merle kept coming back until Dayrl stabbed Merle making him fall onto the grass. Dayrl continuously stabbed Merle over and over and over again. Sobbing he fell backwards. Y/n ran over to Dayrl pulling him into his arms. Her baby still on her side, sleeping soundly as she hugged the man she thought as a brother.

“He’s gone.” Dayrl sobbed into her shoulder. Y/n nodded, kissing his forehead.

“I know,” she whispered. Looking over Dayrls shaking body to where the love of her life laid dead.

“I know.” She shakily spoke as tears silently slid down her Y/s/t face.

—Months later—

The morning after the storm , all is peaceful. Maggie wakes up to see Daryl still awake. She sits by his side and talks with him, telling him he should get some sleep, and that it's okay to rest now.

Y/n sat with her back against a bail of hay, she rocking her Y/e/c eyed son, trying to keep him asleep. She softly hummed rocking Mason in one arm. Her other arm was draped over Carl protectively like a mother. Judith was asleep soundly in a blanket filled box. Just beside Y/n so she could take care of the small child, while Carl could get some sleep.

Maggie and Dayrl looked over at Sasha across the room asleep. "He was tough," Daryl remarks, referring to Tyreese. Maggie nodded in agreement, looking over at the sleeping woman. "So was she," Daryl adds, talking about Beth. "She didn't know it... but she was." Daryl hands Maggie the music box Carl gave to her. “I fixed it.” He spoke gruffly. Maggie smile as she took it. “Thank you.”

She then wakes Sasha and the two leave the barn. Looking around the barn they see the storm had killed most of the walkers or decapitated them, impaled or crushed by the trees

“I’m surprise the barn hadn’t fell down. It looks like a tornado has been through here.” Sasha says as she and Maggie made their way through the fallen trees to an open field.

Maggie and Sasha then sit down on a downed tree and watch the sunrise together. As they sit, Sasha tells Maggie what Noah said about himself, that he doesn't know if he can make it. Sasha admits that she feels the same way too. Maggie reassures her that she will survive. Maggie tries to play the music box, but finds that the box is still broken.

The two laugh, but their conversation was cut short by a young man, cautiously walking up to the two.

“My names Aaron, I came to speak to your leader Rick.” The man

The women are confused as they draw their guns and ask how he knows about Rick.

“I have good news!” He starts holding his hands up, showing the two women they could trust him.

Maggie and Sasha brought Aaron to the barn where the rest of the group was resting. Rick and the others appear to be wary over Aaron's arrival.

Maggie gives Rick Aaron's gun, which Rick keeps as he asks Aaron what his intentions are.

“How did you know we were here?” Rick looks at the young man. “I’ve been watching you all for a while. I needed to make sure you guys weren’t gonna kill me as soon as you saw me. But I was the one to give you guys the supplies yesterday.” Aaron informs the group.

Rick chooses not to believe him, and convinces the group that Aaron has another agenda. Aaron, knowing that he would believe so, asks Sasha to give Rick his backpack, directing him to a small set of photographs of his community which he had taken as evidence of its existence. As Aaron explains what his community is about and emphasizes on its security, Rick punches him in the face, knocking him out. Y/n shook her head looking at the unconscious man.

“He could be dangerous.” Rick said looking at Y/n with kind eyes. Y/n nodded as she hugged her young son close to her chest. “I trust you.” She whispered giving him an nod. He nodded pulling her into a brotherly hug, careful not to hurt the baby in her arms.

Tara look over at Y/n giving her a soft smile. Y/n smiled back as she pulled away from Rick. “You should get to know Tara, I see it in y’alls eyes. You have some type of connection.” Rick whispered into her ear. Y/n shook her head as she looked at Rick.

Before she could say anything Rick stopped her. “I know it’s been only a few months since Merle passed, but you should be happy. And before you say anything. I know your happy with little mason here, but still you should have someone there for you.” Y/n huffed knowing Rick was correct.

“I hate it when your right.” She said looking down at her Y/e/c baby. “I know, that’s why you don’t like me. ‘Cause I’m always right.” Y/n snorted a laugh looking up at Rick. “That’s funny.”

“Alright, you three,” Rick starts pointing at a few of people of the group. “Go out keep watch. Make sure nobody’s watching us.” A few of them nodded but Michonne shook her head.

“I don’t think Aaron’s a threat. I mean look at him.” Michonne tries to convince Rick.

“I don’t care, we still aren’t trusting him. Rick insisted.

“There aren’t many places for anyone to hide.” Glenn informs Rick, causing more panic within the group. As Aaron regains consciousness, he maintains a positive attitude, jokingly complimenting Rick's strength. Rick shoots back saying that they cannot trust someone who is still laughing after being beaten.

“How many people are in you group?” Rock asked bearing his flare gun as evidence of company.

“It don’t matter how many, it won’t affect whether or not you’ll trust me.”

Rick insists he confesses anyway, and Aaron informs him that there is only one. Aaron also reveals that he and his accomplice have vehicles that they had attempted to bring closer to the barn, but had been blocked by the surrounding trees.

Michonne tells Rick that she wants to know the truth by checking it out. Rick turns down the task saying that it is a bad idea, but after Maggie and Glenn speak up in favor, Rick decides to let everyone except him, baby Judith Y/n and her baby to go scout ahead, ordering Abraham and Rosita to go with Glenn, Maggie, and Michonne and the rest of the group to search the surrounding area.

As the groups leave, Aaron tells Rick that he used to be pointed at with guns before the apocalypse, due to his job as an NGO worker, and that he believes he and his people are good. Rick instead warns Aaron that if his people do not return in one hour, he would put a knife in the base of his skull.

Michonne, Maggie, Glenn, Rosita and Abraham are still walking towards their destination. Glenn warns the others to shoot whoever comes out from the woods, should the time come.

Michonne, horrified by Glenn's orders, voices her opinion. Glenn replies saying that people should not come to the people who have guns like them. Disagreeing, Michonne says that Aaron's community are not bad people, reminding him of how they rescued Gabriel, of how they saved Tara after her involvement with The Governor, and of how they saved a crazy woman with a sword, implying herself.

Glenn reluctantly agrees. They reach the specified location, finding a car and an RV, and realize that Aaron was telling the truth. A pair of walkers come out from the woods, one almost biting Abraham before Rosita intervenes. Abraham thanks her but is ignored.

In the barn, baby Judith starts crying, while Rick crushes acorns for her to eat.

“Why don’t you just let me feed her?” Y/n asks, talking about breast feeding Judith as she helps crush the acorns.

“You need that for Mason, it’s okay.” Rick says quietly.

“Her crying’s going to attract walkers.” Aaron reminds the two from his spot. tied to the barn's support.

“Look, just take the applesauce from my bag. I promise it’s safe to eat.” . Aaron insists.

Still cautious of Aaron's intentions, Rick extracts a spoonful of the apple sauce from the supplied jar and offers it to Aaron, telling him to eat it first as a precaution.

Aaron, realizing what he is doing and taking offense from it, refuses, saying that poisoning his baby would be the last thing he would have ever done.

Rick, however, insists, even after Aaron informs him that he dislikes apple sauce. Against his wishes, he consumes it. After realizing it is safe, Rick rushes back and shares the sauce with Judith. Rick reminds Aaron that he has 43 minutes left.

“Thank you.” Y/n mouthed to the man tied to the barn support. He nodded softly with a smile while Y/n walked over to the corner of the room. A soft little whine caught his attention. Looking over he seen Y/n picking up a baby, who seemed to be around 5 maybe six months old. He noticed Y/n was about to feed her baby and redirected his eyes elsewhere.

“How did you know he needed to be fed before he cried?” Aaron asked Y/n as she covered herself so she wasn’t exposed.

“A mother’s instinct I guess.” She answered honestly. “Are you the mom to them both?” Aaron asked, looking at the Y/h/c haired woman.

“No, just him.” She answered nodding down to her son she was breast feeding.

Aaron nodded noticing Rick wasn’t looking very happy at the mention of his daughter not having a mom.

“But I like to think I’m a momma to the both of them.” Y/n says softly. “I may not be biologically, but I take care of these kids like they are mine.” She says talking about Carl and Judith not just her and merles son, Mason.

Months after being in Alexandria:

Y/n stood in front of the gray crib. Watching as her son slept soundly. It had became such a habit of watching her son sleep. She could barely leave him in the crib for five minutes. She always had to be near him, no matter what.

Y/n heard a knock on the door and hummed softly as she left her sleeping sons room and went to answer the door.

Opening the door she seen Tara who seemed to be a little nervous.

“Tara, why are you knocking? You leave here too.” Tara nodded nervously as she looked into Y/ns beautiful y/e/c eyes.

“I know, but I was just trying to see if you were home, and I didn’t want to rush in their and wake the baby.” She answered, almost too quickly.

“Oh, well, did you need anything?” Y/n asked opening the door wider for Tara to come in. Tara smile walking into the door and to the kitchen where she had smelt the warm black coffee.

“I never would’ve thought I would have coffee ever again.” Tara rambled, not getting to the point of her being in the house instead of being on a run like Y/n had thought.

“Well, Thank God for the people here. If it wasn’t for them we wouldn’t have the hot running water, clean clothes, shelter and food.”

Tara nodded as she took a sip of the coffee.

“I didn’t come in here for coffee though. I Umm... I came in here to tell you something.” She started, grabbing Y/ns hands into her own.

“I like you Y/n. Like, like you, like you. I think I’m in love with you. Seeing you with Mason, makes me feel like I want that, but with you. I see you and I see the person I want a future with. The woman I have grown to love. The woman who is strong and powerful. The woman who protects her children.” Tara confessed her love for Y/n.

Y/n smiled looking at Tara. “I love you too. I have for a whole now, but I just thought it was too soon from Merles death. But I talk to Dayrl and Rick about it. I think I’m ready. I want to be with you.” Y/n said looking into Taras soft brown eyes and then to her soft plump pink lips.

Tara leaned in slowly placing a soft kiss on Y/ns lips. And that was the beginning of their story.

[lamiasluck]

Freebird

(This was a fun story from start to finish! Thanks for sticking around til the end!)

Summary: Illinois is finally out of jail! Immediately, he's eager to start adventuring again, and this time he's accompanied by a new adventuring partner. Yancy isn't sure what to expect out of this endeavour, but he's along for the ride.

Characters: Yancy & Illinois

Words: 4349 

Read on AO3!

Chapter One  Chapter Two

-

The day was beautiful. Birds sang their songs with reckless abandon, the sun shone brightly…

And Illinois was housing an established criminal.

Yet, he has never slept better. Waking up in his bed was a dream come true. Putting on basic comfy clothes felt like heaven. There was a pep to his step as he got ready for the day. He was always a morning person, but he never had more energy than today.

In the guest room, Yancy slowly got up and stretched. Clad in a baggy shirt and sweatpants Illinois let him borrow. Prison made him a morning person too, because of routine. However, he had a rough night in the new environment. Even if the bed was something he’d call “one of ‘em fancy, soft beds,'' he had a rocky night. He blamed it on homesickness. The door cracked open and he saw Illinois.

“Oh, you’re up early,” Illinois said. “Sleep well?”

“Yeah, s’alright I guess,” he replied through a yawn.

“Must be weird, huh?” Illinois read his mind like a book. “I’m gonna make us breakfast. You can stay here if you want.”

Yacny swung his legs out of the bed. “Nah, nah, I’m already up. What youse gonna make?”

“Whatever didn’t spoil.” He shrugged. Being away for more than a month must’ve been hell for for his food supply.

When he got to the kitchen he tried to see what he could cook. There weren’t many options, but he could figure something out. “You alright with bacon and eggs?” He asked as Yancy trailed after him.

“I’ll eat anything. Just make it edible.” Yancy sat down by the kitchen aisles and watched Illinois cook. The kitchen was big, everything was. Illinois lived in a fancy house in the middle of nowhere. A house that could only be brought with the riches he collected during his adventures. Awfully big for one person, some might say, but he was out so often he barely noticed.

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that. I’m a natural cook,” he flaunted. “It’ll be better than what they gave us in prison. Anything’s better than that slob…”

“Watch ya mouth,” Yancy warned. “Youse were there for a month, barely got the experience.”

“I think I’ll pass…”

“I didn’t even see ya in solitary.” Yancy shivered at the thought of the punishment. “Would’ve been funny to see a freebird all caged up,” he snickered.

Illinois flicked water at the other. “I already regret bringing you.”

“That’s rude! And ‘ere I thought we’s bonded… let bygones be bygones!”

“Well, I guess that’s true,” Illinois hummed. “I’d much rather hit on you than hit you~” He looked at Yancy briefly to shoot him a wink.

“I - wha…?” Yancy stuttered, staring wide eyed at Illinois as he cooked. Suddenly his throat felt dry and he couldn’t find anything to respond with. After a few moments, Illinois laughed and broke the silence.

“Oh, the jailbird can stop singing? Glad to know.”

“You asshole!” Yancy snapped. Masking his bashfulness with an exaggerated pout, he cast his eyes downward. “Just… what the hell are we’s gonna do anyways? Youse wanted to adventure, yeah?”

“We’ll get to that don’t you worry.” The pan sizzled as Illinois put in the bacon. A knowing smile made its way to his face as he heard the panic in Yancy’s voice. “We’ll enjoy breakfast, then get ready to set off.” He glanced over at him again. “You should wear something different. You can borrow something else from my closet.”

“What’s wrong with my regular clothes?”

“They’re prison clothes. If police come by, we’ll get arrested again,” Illinois sighed. “Just go to my closet, you look about my size anyways. Play dress up and I’ll finish this.” Just for fun, and because he was a little shit, he looked at Yancy again and gave him another wink. “Pick out something pretty~”

“Sh-Shut up!” Yancy stuttered, pushing himself away from the counter and storming off.

Like the rest of the house, Illinois’ closet was fairly big. Lots of the clothes looked practical for adventuring, some were for fancy occasions. As Yancy browsed through the selections, he found an outfit that made him audibly gasp. He didn’t care if it wasn’t the most practical, he needed to wear this one. He looked at himself in the mirror, smoothing out the jacket before making his way back to the kitchen.

“Ay, freebird!” he called out. “Why do youse have this?”

Illinois turned to look at him, blatantly checking him out with an up and down look. He picked out a leather jacket, white shirt, and black pants. “You know, I was expecting you to pick that.”

“Youse didn’t answer my question.”

“I had to ride with a biker gang for one of my missions. The jacket costs a lot so I kept it,” Illinois explained. “You don’t look half bad in it.”

“Damn right,” Yancy boasted. “Haven’t wore something like this in forever. Youse got good taste, I bet I look better than youse in this, though.”

“Well, it’s not really my style.” He plated the food while Yancy sat down again. “I do look good in everything, of course.” His usual outfit worked well for him, in a practical sense and a social sense. Yancy eagerly took the plate of food as he sat down himself. “Bon appetit.”

“So,” Yancy started, talking through mouthfuls of food, “can youse tell me where we goin’ now?”

“With pleasure.”

-

The day was still young when they reached their destination. Not like they could tell, because they had travelled to a cave. Ancient carvings decorated the walls, depicting rituals and unknown cultures.

Yancy let out a low whistle as he looked around. “Ain’t this something?”

“Better than any museum,” Illinois hummed. He lead the charge deeper into the cave, analyzing his surroundings with a careful eye. “Just like how I remember it. Glad to see those brutes that took me away didn’t mess with anything.”

“Yeah, theys only messed wit’ youse,” Yancy laughed. The idea of Illinois being taken away by police amused him greatly. He wished he was there to see it. Now that would have been an adventure.

At first, their path seemed like a straightforward cakewalk. Yancy was about to say how bored he was before Illinois stuck out his arm to stop him.

“Now, for this next part,” Illinois reached in his bag and pulled out a blindfold, “I’m gonna need you to wear this.”

Yancy stared deadpan. “You’re fucking wit’ me, yeah? Youse seriously want pay back for that?”

The blindfold was already being wrapped around his head, he didn’t protest. “Yes and no,” Illinois answered, a smug smile no doubtedly plastered on his face. “You’ve never done this before since you’re always all cooped up, jailbird. So it’s up to me to make sure you stay safe.”

“Youse not gonna kill me?”

“I’d never.” He placed his hands on Yancy’s shoulders and lead him further into the cave. “Just follow my lead.”

The next part of the cave was dangerous. Traps galore. Any wrong move and it’d be game over. Any bit of panic and Illinois would have to bring Yancy back to the jail in a body bag. As much as he disliked the guy ---could he even say that anymore?--- he didn’t deserve a gruesome end. Ignorance was bliss, in this case. Yancy would be better off not knowing what death traps he was walking through.

“I’m going to need you to calm down, okay? Don’t hesitate from this pace. Free your mind from any panic.”

“Youse sound like a motivational speaker,” Yancy snickered. As they continued walking, a spike trap lunged forward just a few inches shy from his chest. “What was that?”

“Nothing, nothing, don’t worry about it.” It wasn’t quiet anymore. The sounds of metal grinding against rock echoed throughout the walls. Arrows sliced through the air inches behind them. Illinois felt Yancy falter at the sounds.

“Illinois… what’s going on?” He didn’t outright stop their pace, but he resisted slightly against Illinois’ push.

A harder push forward made Yancy narrowly miss another spike trap. Illinois’ eyes widen. “I need you to trust me, Yancy. Follow my pace.” His voice was stern, yet calm. An axe appeared from the walls, barely grazing his arm in a single swing. “Think of something else. Distract your mind and let me handle everything.”

Yancy gave a short nod. A soft hum then began to juxtapose the harsh weaponry. He began to hum a familiar tune that everyone in the prison heard at least once.

“I don’t wanna be free~” Yancy started, singing much softer than usual, but who could blame him.

Illinois smiled. Already he felt Yancy loosen up as they continued their walk. “Leave me in luxury~” he continued, voice stronger but unpracticed. The song went against all his values, but damn was it catchy.

By the time they reached the end of the song, they were homefree. Illinois untied the blindfold and gave Yancy a pat on the shoulder.

“Good job, jailbird! You’re a natural,” he praised. Not a single scratch on Yancy and only a little cut on his arm. Could’ve been a perfect run, but not bad.

Yancy blinked once he could see again. He looked back at where they were and paled. “What the fuck?!” He looked back at Illinois with frantic eyes. “We walked through that?!”

“See? This is why you needed the blindfold!”

“How the fuck am I alive?!”

Yancy was only met with a chuckle from the other. Illinois grabbed his arm and began to walk again. “Enough about that! We’re only getting started,” he mused, clearly enjoying his reaction.

“Oh, I’m gonna die, aren’t I?” Yancy asked, breathless. In his disbelieved daze he followed obediently.

“I promised you that I’ll return you safe and sound, didn’t I? I’m not one to break a promise.” While his tone was playful, there was sincerity in his words. Yancy gave another silent nod and they continued further into the cave.

Eventually they stood before a huge chasm blocking their path. Illinois went over to a pile of nearby rocks and rummaged through them, pulling out an odd statue from the rumble.

“This is where I got caught,” he said. “My mission was to return this artifact,” he pointed to the statue, brushing away the dirt, “It’s a wonder how those brutes managed to find me, but I bet someone ratted me out.”

Yancy listened while staring down at the dark abyss. He threw a rock into it. He didn’t hear it hit the bottom.  

“How did they make it through… that?” He gestured towards the death hallway they strolled through.

“Oh, they barely made it. They sent a whole team after me, only two made it out. Gave me enough time to hide the artifact, but not enough time to figure this out,” he explained, gesturing to the chasm.

Yancy shivered when he looked back at the dark abyss. There was no way in hell they could jump over it, so they would have to scale the rocky walls. Surprisingly, Yancy found a path fairly quickly. He recalled scaling a wall like this when escaping the prison.

“1, 2, 3… 1, 2, 3… 1, 2, 3, 4…”

Illinois watched in awe as Yancy got to work. He repeated the mantra quietly as he fearlessly scaled the wall, never faltering once. In no time, he was on the other side.

There was a shine to his eyes as Yancy bounced on the balls of his feet. Probably adrenaline in technical terms, but Illinois always referred to it as “the spark of adventure”. Illinois hooked his thumbs on the loops of his belt, trying to remember the exact steps Yancy took.

“That was easy!” Yancy exclaimed. “Should be alright for youse, yeah? If you can survive all that then you can do this.”

“Yeah…” Illinois swallowed harshly. “Yeah, I’ll be fine,” he reassured himself, putting the artifact in his bag. The elegance Yancy had scaling the wall was nowhere near present in Illinois’ recreation. Nearly every thought in his head was a version of how the hell did he do that? but he tried his best to repeat the mantra Yancy created.

For a minute, everything seemed fine and he was nearly done. Yancy stood close near the edge, carefully watching his footing. Then a rock broke loose under his feet.

“Shit-!” Illinois yelped as he slipped. He didn’t react fast enough to regain his composure, but Yancy reacted fast enough to grab his arm and pull him to stable ground. Yancy pulled him close to his chest with a death grip on his wrist. Much better than death at the bottom of the chasm.

“Youse alright?” Yancy asked, voice laced with concern and fear.

Illinois gave a short nod in return. “I’m alright now.” The two backed away from the edge and regained their breath. “Thanks for saving me. Told you a partner would come in handy for this.”

“To make sure your dumbass doesn’t die, sure.” The both of them laughed, airy with disbelief. At least the rest of their path was peaceful. Great for calming down after nearly dying and watching someone nearly die.

From his bag, Illinois pulled out the artifact again to examine. Yancy grabbed it from his hands before he could realize.

“What’s this thing anyways?” The statue looked to be pure crystal, depicting a long forgotten idol.

“Easy there,” Illinois snickered. “It’s the heart of this place, stole it from a pirate ship that were gonna sell it to make a quick buck, but… well,” he looked around at the walls. Only a careful eye like his could tell how unstable this place was because of its absence, “taking it is dangerous. I’m surprised whatever spirits cursing this place didn’t wreak havoc while I was gone.”

“Oh.” Yancy quickly handed off the statue to Illinois, wiping his hands on his pants. “Didn’t realize.”

A loud laugh echoed as Illinois giggled at Yancy’s reaction. He tossed the statue between his hands and continued to talk casually. “Just another day in the life! I could tell you so many stories, if only we had the time,” he trailed off.

Ahead of them were two pedestals illuminated by a crystal light.

“Looks like the place to return this,” Illinois hummed.

“Which one is it?”

Illinois hooked his thumb in his belt. “That’s a good question.” He pondered to himself, looking at Yancy and the statue. “Why don’t you chose?”

“Me?!” Yancy gasped. “Why do I gotta do it? What if I choose wrong?”

“Come on, what’s an adventure without a little risk? What are you afraid of?”

Yancy stared at him deadpanned. “Dying.”

“Fair point,” Illinois nodded, “But I’m just as blind as you are, jailbird. So let’s take the gamble.”

“Alright…” Yancy scratched the back of his neck as his examined the pedestals. He pointed at the one on the left. “Do that one.”

None of them breathed as Illinois placed that statue slowly. “You know, I would’ve picked that one too.”

“So did I pick right?”

“I think so-” His thoughts were interrupted by a loud thud. Then, by the sound of a boulder rolling towards them. They looked at the dark hallway in front of them with wide eyes. He looked back at Yancy. “Run.”

They didn’t dare to look back, running a full sprint. A boulder big enough to barely fit within the cave’s walls was fast approaching. Fully intent on crushing them for their mistake. Yancy was swearing like a sailor as he ran. Illinois’ mind was racing just as quickly as he was running.

“Wait, Illinois!” He realized something grave. “The hole! We can’t fuckin’ pass that!” In the distance, they saw the chasm, just as intimidating as before.

If it was possible, Illinois’ eyes widened more. He looked desperately for any solutions. Then he saw it.

He grabbed Yancy’s arm and shoved him in a small crevice broken in the wall. While a tight fit, he managed to squeeze himself in too. Now chest to chest, they watched the boulder pass the mouth of the hole in suffocating silence. There was a loud thud following as it fell into the chasm. As if the boulder was going to magically get out of the chasm, they kept their gazes at the crevice’s opening for a bit longer. With how close their were, they could feel the heavy rise and fall of their chests.

“Are you alright?” Illinois asked.

At first, Yancy only replied with an under the breath “Holy fuck…” Afterwards, he did his best to clear his throat and nodded. “Yeah, I’m alright now.”

He turned to look at Yancy, only to realize how claustrophobic of a space they were in. They were nearly nose to nose, and both were too aware of that fact. “Oh. Hey there,” he said awkwardly. A small smile made its way to the adventurer’s lips, a smile he usually shined after barely dodging certain death. “Let’s get out of here.” He squeezed his way out of the hole and offered a hand to Yancy.

Yancy brushed off the dirt on him. He was a bit scuffed, being slammed into a tight corner and all, but overall he was alive and well. Though being up close and personal with his friend ---could he call him that?--- was… an experience. “Damn, youse gonna kiss me or something? Way too close, freebird.”

“What? You’d rather kiss the boulder? I saved your life.”

“Guess we’re even then.” Yancy fidgeted. “So... what now?”

“We should head back and put that statue in the right place this time.” Illinois nodded, shaking off the dirt on his hat. “Doubt the spirits are satisfied, after all.”

The trek back to the pedestals was quiet. What could they say after nearly being crushed to death? When they got back, the statue stood untouched where Illinois left it.

“I swear if I gotta run like that again…” Yancy mumbled under his breath while Illinois picked it up.

“Don’t worry,” Illinois reassured, placing it on the other pedestal. “There usually isn’t a second boulder.”

For a moment, nothing happened. The hairs on the back of their necks stood up in anticipation.

From behind them, the walls cracked open with an ugly sound on rock against rock. Their attention snapped towards the sound. Yancy jumped, ready to run again, but Illinois held him back. The new passage revealed a staircase leading to the surface.

Illinois’ shoulders slumped. “What, no reward? Lame.”

“Lame?!” Yancy gasped, staring at Illinois like he was crazy. “Christ, I think I’ve had enough adventure for today. I wanna get the hell outta here.”

“Alright, alright…” Illinois gave a lopsided smile, clearly tired. He took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair with a heavy sigh. “But you have to admit, that was pretty fun, wasn’t it?”

Yancy was already walking towards the staircase. He thought to himself for a moment. Yeah, he almost died multiple times, but goddamn was that a thrill. He legs wanted to give out at any moment, his heart pumped and made his ears ring, and he was scuffed and dirty as all hell. Yet, he has never felt more alive.

“Y’know what? Yeah, youse right! Must be fun to do that all the time, yeah?”

Illinois gave him a pat on the shoulder. The two of them began to walk out of the cave. “You have no idea.”

-

Maybe he was getting used to the bed, maybe he was so tired that he could sleep on anything, but Yancy slept like a baby when they got back to Illinois’ house. During the next day, they both slept well into the afternoon.

Illinois was the first to wake up. He made oatmeal for the two of them and waited for Yancy. Despite the sun shining, the day felt somber for him. For once he found an adventure partner that didn’t die on the first trap, and he was going to leave him. Just like all the rest. All he could do was accept it at this point. Yancy had his own responsibilities and his own life, it’d be cruel for Illinois to keep him from that.

“Mornin’, freebird,” Yancy greeted as he walked in the kitchen. He put on the leather jacket again after he woke up.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Illinois snickered at Yancy’s tired state. Rather than his usual slicked back hair, he had a messy bedhead. “You really like that jacket, hm? What, did you sleep in it?”

Yancy shrugged. “Might as well wear it now. Not like I can again.”

“That’s true.” Illinois picked at his bowl then looked Yancy in the eyes. “So you’re still going back?” he asked, tone disappointed.

Somehow, Yancy didn’t falter under his gaze. He nodded. “Didn’t even say goodbye to the others, y’know? It was fun while it lasted, though. This was nice.”

“I’m glad you thought so. You were a natural yesterday so, lemme give you something.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a flip phone. “I’m not going to stop you from leaving, but if you ever want some fresh air just give me a call. I’ll be more than happy to let you out of your cage for a bit, jailbird.”

The phone was slid over to Yancy, who grabbed it in surprise. “Woah… Thank youse!” He let out an airy laugh. “I’ll be sure to call youse! Hopefully I can hide this when I get back.”

“Just do your best, I’d love another adventure with you,” he said, sincere. Then, he flashed a smile as he thought of something. “And if it helps when you get back, maybe say I kidnapped you or something. So you won’t get punished.”

“Oh yeah? Like I’m your lil’ damsel in distress? Hold on.” Yancy cleared his throat and faked an exaggerated hurt expression. “Oh, w-warden-!” he gasped and did his best to quiver his lip, “It was so scary, youse have no idea! He was such a brute a-and I couldn’t stop him! Heavens know I tried…”

Illinois threw his head back in laughter. “Dear god…”

Yancy broke his facade slightly to snicker, only to return to his dramatic state. “He’s was out for blood I tells ya! He’s held me hostage for fun and was all like,” Yancy then proceeded to do the worst impression of Illinois’ voice, “That’ll teach them to lock me up! You’ll never escape me~”

It sounded like an oversexualized villian that was played by someone who clearly couldn’t get rid of their accent. Illinois laughed even harder, voice going up a pitch in volume.

“Is that what I sound like to you?! I’m insulted!” He snorted.

Yancy gripped the table for support, joining in on the laughter. “Well, yeah! I sound just like youse!”

“You better pray that that performance gets you out of trouble, you asshole!” Illinois wheezed, trying to catch his breath. He covered his mouth to hide a sudden mischievous smile. “Youse better watch ya mouth.” He tried his best to do that raspy accent that Yancy had, but failed horribly.

Yancy visibly cringed as he giggled. “Never do that again.”

“Right back at ya,” he continued to talk like a West Side Story reject, snickering.

A couple more hours passed with the two of them talking their heads off. Lots of stories of adventures from Illinois, and lots of stories of prison from Yancy. Though eventually, Yancy began to get ready to leave. He changed back to his prison clothes and gave back the jacket to Illinois.

“If you ever come back here,” Illinois started, hanging up the jacket, “This jacket and I will be waiting with a warm welcome.”

“Aw~” Yancy gave a bashful smile, scratching the back of his neck while looking down. He let out a heavy sigh and looked back at Illinois. “C’mere, freebird!”

Next thing Illinois knew, he was being pulled into a tight hug. He returned the gesture and hugged back just as tight. They lingered for a moment, the realization that they’d actually miss each other set in. Who would have thought?

“I’ll be sure to take youse up on that offer.” Yancy pulled back and gave him a heart pat on the shoulder. “Youse not gettin’ rid of me that easily, ya hear?”

“I would hope not.”

Yancy sighed and stepped back. He made his way out the front door. The car keys he stole still in his possession, so at least he had a way back. Illinois stood by the door frame, ignoring the ache in his chest as he watched him walk away.

His mind still raced with things to talk about, but they could wait. He furrowed his brows as he saw the car, turning back to Illinois one more time. “And uh, Illinois?”

“Yes?”

He swallowed his pride and muttered his next sentence, abnormally quiet, but Illinois could hear it loud and clear. “Youse pretty alright.”

Illinois huffed and rolled his eyes. “When I’m not annoying as hell?”

“Nah, I think it builds character.” He shrugged. “Youse a good man.”

Illinois felt his heart ache more at that comment, actually taken aback. “Yancy…” he gave an airy chuckle, shaking his head with a small smile. “You’re a good man, too. I’m glad I met you.”

It looked like Yancy had more to say, but decided against it. His throat tightened more as he stepped closer to the car. He cast one more look back at Illinois. “Stay safe, okay freebird?”

“Likewise, jailbird. Take care of yourself,”

Yancy nodded and finally got in the car. Illinois watched him drive away, offering one last wave goodbye.

He shut the door behind him, now alone in his quiet house. He was a free man at least, but what now? He had lost many, many partners in his time, but this one struck a chord. Well, Yancy did have his number, so he could call at any time. He hoped that he was serious about keeping in touch.

[princessamericachavez]

Little Fjorester moments in episode 73

So, we didn’t get as many moments in this episode as I would’ve hoped, but it also makes total sense. Liveshows are always complicated for these things, especially since both tables aren’t sitting front to front to each other, so we get a lot less exchanged looks. Also, we were so well fed last week, that it makes sense that the pace would slow down a little this time around. 

Nevertheless, we did get some nice stuff!

Fjord: I’m... in the back.

Jester: Actually, Fjord, maybe in the middle? Because if something comes up behind us...

And Jester proceeds to stand in the back to keep guard. 

She’s so worried about him being hurt and ready to protect him. 

We stand one protective couple.

Clay: Let’s make a circle.

Jester: Circle up, around Fjord. 

Nott: And Caleb!

SHE’S SO WORRIED THAT HE’LL GET HURT

PUSHING THE PARTY TO PROTECT HIM

Clay: Fjord, you don’t have to stay in the circle, if you don’t want you. If you wanna test out how you feel.

Jester: Don’t do it. Don’t. 

FJORD PLEASE LET ME TRY TO PROTECT YOU DAMMIT DON’T TRY TO BE BRAVE

Jester: *gets bitten by a giant bug nearly killing her*

Fjord: Jester is still in its mouth...

Matt: Yes, grappled and held up in its jaw.

Fjord: Fuck!

Fjord: *runs out of the circle his friends specifically created to keep him safe and takes a swipe against the monster*

HE ROLLED SO WELL AND CONSIDERABLY HIGH IN DAMAGE GIVEN HIS CURRENT LIMITATIONS AND THAT’S TRUE LOVE OKAY??

Fjord: Coming, Jester!!!!! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

AS I SAID. 

WE STAN

A PROTECTIVE COUPLE.

THEY ARE ALWAYS DOING THE MOST TO PROTECT EACH OTHER. 

Jester pulling him and Caduceus out of the monster with all her buff strength because she’s so badass.

Jester: *suggests using Pass Without A Trace*

Fjord: Great idea, yeah!

(later)

Fjord: I mean, Pass Without A Trace sounds great. 

HE’S HER NUMBER ONE FAN.

Jester: *offers everyone cupcakes*

Fjord: They are so dark, are they burned?

Jester: no, it’s called black moss

Everyone: *grabs a cupcake*

Jester: Fjord...

Fjord: What?

Jester: Have a cupcake.

Fjord: Ah- uh- no.

Jester: Yes, Fjord.

Fjord: I’m not a fan of dark looking sweets.

Jester: *shoves a cupcake into his mouth*

Fjord (muffled): lovely

Jester: Aren’t they good?

Fjord: *chokes and spits out the muffin*

Jester: :(

LISTEN OKAY OKAY OKAY

THIS MOMENT IS TECHNICALLY SO FUNN

BUT IT’S ALSO SO SAD

Because Jester’s main directive is always making her friends happy. So she buys sweets and is so excited to share them. And Fjord hasn’t been a big fan of sweets from the start, but she insists because sweet makes you happy and she wants to be Fjord to be happy and she just wants to help her best friend in the world okay??

And it backfires and she’s so sad that it doesn’t work. 

Jester doesn’t realize that just by being in herself she brightens his world.

And, even so, Fjord tries. He tries to lie and say “it’s lovely” even if he dislikes it because he’s always trying to make her happy too. 

THESE TWO I SWEAR THEY WILL KILL ME

Fjord: Jester, was there anything you’d like to create as an offering to the All-Hammer as we-

Jester: >:)

Fjord: oh no.

Beau: You knew. You knew.

Fjord: I... forgot. It’s my- my fault. My fault. 

Jester: I’m going to- 

Fjord:

Jester: What would you like me to do?

Fjord: Whatever you want to!

I love several parts of this???

Firstly, that Fjord forgot?? It’s just so funny to me!! Because in Fjord’s eyes, Jester is just dependable and trust-worthy. Like, he knows she’s chaotic, but he fully relies on her being capable and creative and charming- so he literally forgets that she’s a source of chaos and all the caution he should have around her because he lets his guard down around her. 

And then Jester is about to create chaos and she stops??? and asks him??? like, I’m sure if he’d asked for something specific seriously she would’ve complied??

BUT THEN Fjord is like “whatever you want” because he’s not about to stop her? You don’t block the things you love about someone. And he loves her so much, just as she is, that he’d rather step back and let her wreak havoc rather than make her censor herself around him??

Also, his whole facial journey is gold.

Jester: Or- or- or instead of having a person being the distractor, Fjord,  you can just cast your major illusion-

Fjord:

Jester: Or you could just say hi??

Fjord:

Jester: Do you want a cupcake?

Fjord: I’m fine, thank you.

Jester:

DAMMIT LAURA

This moment absolutely broke my heart. 

First of all, just as Fjord has learned to rely on Jester... Jester, too, is used to relying on Fjord. They are team, after all, and she’s only ever known him with his powers.

Just as Laura said on Talks, Jester lets her guard down once she sees Fjord can take care of himself... but that also leads to this foot-in-mouth moment. 

And you can just TELL how distressed she is when she realizes what she just did because the last thing she wants to do is hurt him. 

And Fjord, oh god, every other time someone teased him he would roll his eyes and brush it off as “yeah I’m weak now haha” but when Jester starts talking, before she even realizes what she’s doing, he just smiles sadly... and he looks so sad... and that finally bit, when he assures her that he’s okay, is just so soft but also sad. Like, you can tell he’s not mad at her, but he’s also feeling bad about his usefulness again. 

OH GOD I’M DYING THERE’S TOO MUCH GOING ON

AND SO MUCH MORE TO COME

Also, if they actually fight a freaking white dragon while Fjord is powerless I might lose my shit. So much could go wrong!!! (but, hey, I’ll take every opportunity for angst that I can get!) 

This week’s episode is gonna be so good I CAN’T WAIT

All around Fjord

[ijaws]

My Captain Marvel Review

Before I do this, I want to clarify a few things. There are going to be both personal opinions on the character and simple objective observations from a different perspective that what most people are doing in defense of this character.  I am not sexist. I am not racist. I am not misogynistic. I do not identify with the Alt-Right and consider myself a centrist. I believe that modern Feminism (Contrary to Classical Egalitarian-Feminism) is a toxin in society and now it has translated into the MCU through her movie. 

I just wanted to put this out there first because any time I make any sort of evaluation of her movie or her as a character I get bombarded with hate, personal attacks, and people telling me why I hated the movie or something when they don't personally know me and aren't me. (You just hate strong female characters! Bitch, go look at my profile. I fucking LOVED Rescue, SCARLET FUCKING WITCH, and Nebula is literally one of my most favorite characters in the MCU... They were ALL badass in End Game)

So if you like her as a character and if you like her movie, please do not think that my observations of her or her movie are a personal attack against you. I've had so many people take my viewpoint personally for some reason and it no longer is a debate as they close their minds off to anything I say and start becoming immediately dismissive. I mean no disrespect in any of my viewpoints. I just feel like I needed to put this out there because... again... more often then not I'm dealing with some radical feminist that will foam at the mouth and protect her beloved character from any opposing viewpoint irrationally.

Lastly...

PLEASE. DO. NOT. REBLOG. WITH. A. REBUTTAL. AND. BLOCK. ME. LIKE. A. COWARD. 

FUCKING. @. ME. 

I’M JUST LOOKING FOR SOMEONE WITH A BRAIN TO GIVE ME A GOOD COUNTER ARGUMENT TO THIS.

Okay, so, I personally believe that Captain Marvel and her movie were a toxic addition to the franchise. This is going to be a little long, obviously, but I would appreciate it of you read through. Clearly you don't have to because it is a huge ass wall of text but taking in viewpoints that aren’t constantly validating your own is HEALTHY... So please read?

Firstly, they retconned the Skrull, that are one of the most recognizable villainous races in all of fiction like Klingons and Orcs, to be refugees of a war that they'd lost. In the comics they have 100% control of the Andromeda Galaxy as one massive Empire and the Kree were definitely not in the position to eradicate the Skrulls. They could put up a good fight, but I feel that the Skrulls were too well fortified in Andromeda to really be defeated by the Kree. That's the first, shortest, issue I disliked about the movie. They nerfed the hell out of the Skrulls to being simple refugees... and innocent. I'm sorry, but no... This is like going into the Star Trek Universe and retconning the Klingons to be some peace loving hippies. They were also some of the most human characters in the entire movie besides Nick and the Black Best friend. (I can't remember her name... she didn't stand out to me.) They were DEFINITELY more human than Carol Danvers herself. The moment when Talos goes to his family on Mar-Vells ship and hugs them was definitely the most human part of the entire film and it cemented my thoughts on the character. My favorite character in the entire movie was Talos. A lot more likable, interesting, and funny than Carol Danvers was... I wish the movie had entirely about him at this point because it would have been a better film by FAR.

Secondly, the themes. There was a clear message that this movie was trying to sell long before it even hit theaters, and that was Modern Feminism. The Air Force advertisements featuring female pilots, the girl-power advertisements, and so on. The movie was clearly trying have a target audience of young women or young girls and there's nothing wrong with that. However, I started to feel a bit off put by the movie when it showed literally ever male human character that wasn't Nick, Coulson, or the Skrull Leader, Talos, was a sexist prick. LITERALLY every single one of them were sexist. Even her Father. I understand in the comics her and her father never got along or something of that nature, but I personally feel that if they wanted to push the whole sexism narrative that they should have lead it with her father and kept it with her father. Instead they extended the narrative to every male in the entire movie and in her flashbacks.

I feel there needs to be a specific section on the flashbacks alone. Okay, so, in her flashbacks quite literally every single bad thing that happened to her was because of a man.

Carol was riding in that Go Kart and the boy told her she was going too fast. Of course in a feminist movie we can't have a girl listen to what a boy has to say, even if he may know more about what she was doing than she did, and so she goes and crashes horrifically. I thought it was a brutal crash.

A second later and her Dad appears looking down at his busted up and bleeding daughter, that I'd be taking to a hospital in a heartbeat, saying that she didn't belong there.

Okay, that alone is unrealistic to me to begin with. There are a VERY few fathers out there that would have the first words coming out of their mouth being that she didn't belong to be out there. It would be about her health, asking if she was okay, and they would be looking her over as best as possible. However, I will agree with the Father's initial comment that she didn't belong out there on the track. Why? Well I wouldn't want my daughter, who was too stubborn to listen to a boy that was giving good advice when she was doing something dangerous, to do anything dangerous again. Damn right she doesn't belong in dangerous, male, situations and jobs if she's going to act that way. The girl is going to get herself killed.

Then there's the whole, 'You know what it's called a cockpit, right?' scene and that alone, while not improbable, was unneeded at this point. We already had two male characters expressing their inherent, evil, sexism. Oh, but they went even further than that and got the motorcycle guy in there as well telling her to smile and everything. (Woulda been the first smile in that movie so far at that point for Brie.) While that does happen they’re continuing to beat a dead horse… Then later on it shows her being bullied on a beach when she’s REALLY little by BOYS he knock her down.

Then in Basic Training they’re all yelling out to her that she’s gonna die or and things of that nature are more or less unrealistic as well. My father was in the military and was going through basic around the same time that she was and he went into the same branch. The Air Force. When you go into the military they tell you that you are to be colorblind. That you are to be ONE force. ONE unit. You are a team and NOTHING should stand in the way of that. The means that racism, sexism, or any sort of predisposed idealism that puts on person down while raising another up is to be crushed and blown away like dust in the wind. It has no place in the Military as it reduces its effectiveness. So in that training scene where they’re yelling at Carol that she’s going to die and that she’s going to fail is NOT a proper representation of what happens in basic training. Maybe the Drill Instructors to stress you out or drill it into you that what your doing is dangerous and the military itself is dangerous, but not by your fellow team members. If anything your fellow team members are supportive because there are group punishments for your weakest link in your unit… If they fail, you all fail. If one person is stupid, you ALL get punished for their stupidity. So for her fellow trainees to be putting her down like that makes next to no sense and it is CLEARLY intimating the issue of women in the workplace not being able to do what a man can do or women simply being put down in the workplace for simply being women.

So, I don't necessarily agree with the route in which they went about the topic of sexism. The execution and presentation were not done well in my opinion. While you may have felt it resonated with you, what about the boys and the men?

Marvel Movies have always been oriented towards everyone. They've been family movies. Not one Marvel Movie has been solely and strictly for men. Why? Because movies with male leads don't focus on the fact that they are MALE leads... There's nothing special about a male lead or male actor in a film. They don't feel the need to point it out or make the male actor into a champion for men and masculinity.

So, again, what does this film tell you about men? It tells you what I've described. That men are sexist oppressors that want nothing more than to see women fail, smile, and do what they say. That men think women can't do the same job that a man can and that women aren't as strong as men. That's a message that is being conveyed here... and that's the ONLY message you get on the subject. That's the bottom line. There's no, 'but not all men-' in this film. There's no redemption act, representation (I know a lot of you love that word so here you go... You won’t like it cause I’m using it in a way you disagree with it.), or presentation of the fact that men will stand for women in face of true sexism. There isn't any sort of male role model to learn from in the film. Nick is there for comedic relief, Coulson is barely in the film, and the Skrull isn't even human. There's no outreach to TEACH boys and young men that sexism is bad. It simply states that men are sexist. That's literally it. This movie was for girls and girls alone, which is a failure in and of itself on the side of Marvel, and it is simply teaching them that men will do this. That boys will do this. There's nothing there to teach boys to not do that or any sort of redeeming quality for men in the film at all. Is this wrong?

So, yes, if you think it presented the female experience realistically, which I felt it did not in certain scenes, than I am not one to try and change your mind. I've never been in a woman's shoes and I've never experienced sexism from men like that. I'll let my opinions stand for themselves.

While I agree that sexism is truly a problem in society and still lingers, I simply feel that it wasn't presented well enough. That's my main issue with sexism in this film.

On a personal level I felt that if you’re a guy going to see this movie that you should prepare to feel like an asshole. The entire film is intimating that men are oppressing women, that men see women as objects that need to smile more, that women aren’t as strong as a guy or can’t do what a guy can do. It puts men in a bad light and sort of validates the Modern Feminist talking points and agendas that all men are evil, shallow, vile creatures that want to oppress women because they think that they are objects and aren’t as tough, strong, or brave as men.

(If Marvel had made a Movie about a Man that acted arrogant, cold, emotionless, and super super super strong and made all the female characters in his past trying to put him down, were annoying, were emotionally manipulative and controlling, were emotionally abusive, were using men for their wealth or income, and were lying cheaters with no sort of redemption character for women to prove things differently I think that this movie would have tanked.)

Thirdly, a shallow Carol Danvers. With all that being said up above, I feel like that all that made her character VERY shallow. The ONLY reason she’s a pilot, the ONLY reason she’s ‘strong independent woman’, the ONLY reason why she’s a hero is because she’s a woman that’s been put down by men her entire life. To prove that she can be a strong independent woman, and that men can’t keep her down anymore. It’s a consistent attitude of hers to challenge men regardless of who they are or to act arrogant towards them as when first seen by Nick Fury. Immediately upon seeing him she acts a bit sassy, or arrogant, because Nick isn’t knowledgeable about the alien conflicts that exists or doesn’t believe her about the shapeshifting Skrulls. This entire issue sort of cheapens the character as well because if you created the character with the sole purpose to be a conduit or avatar for feminism and feminist talking points… where do you go from there? All of her personality traits, all of her history, and everything that made Carol Danvers who she is about the oppressive nature of men. Once that is solved, which it is in her movie after she gains the full scale of her powers, where do you go from there?

For example in the Amazing Spider Man movies with Andrew Garfield his story was that his parents had died a long time ago and he knew nothing about them. After discovering some papers belonging to his father it becomes a story about self-discovery. To learn about his parents and what happened to them. To understand and connect with them in the only way he could which was through Dr. Conners. Later, since he is on this journey of discovery about his father and mother’s demise, he forgets to walk Aunt May home and Uncle Ben is mad at him for not remembering to do this and that he needs to start being responsible. Peter gets frustrated because this relates to his own past and current journey of understanding. To his father. Why did his father die? Why was he sent to his Aunt and Uncle's house when he had a responsibility to Peter and to be a father? Peter leaves out of this anger and selfishness and Ben attempts to follow. Peter had made his way to a convenience store and was trying to buy some milk but is a few cents short and lets a thief rob the place due to the cashier being somewhat of an asshole about it. While on his search for Peter, Uncle Ben encounters the thief and tries to stop him and that gets him shot. Uncle Ben dies and Peter realizes that it's his fault. That he had the power and strength to do the right thing but simply stood there and did nothing. That is what begins his quest as a Superhero. If a good person has the power to do something to save someone’s life, but doesn’t, are they really a good person? Are they just as bad as the man that pulled the trigger by letting someone die? So that becomes who Peter is. Peter isn’t a hero because he’s a strong white kid who got bit by a weird spider. Peter isn’t a strong hero because he’s a man or because women or men were keeping him down. Peter is a strong hero because he learned the HARD way that if you have the power to stop someone from doing something that could cost an innocent person their life, and do nothing, you’re just as bad as the guy that pulled that trigger…

Hell, Shazam’s is, ‘If you can’t save your family, what kind of Hero are you?’ I’m not sure if I got the wording perfect, but even the REAL Captain Marvel here stands for something that has deeper meaning and truth. Shazam is ALL about family and fighting for them...

That is a much deeper, much BETTER, character traits than the simple feminist argument that Brie Larson’s Captain Marvel stands for. That she’s a strong because she’s a woman. That she’s strong because she won’t let men keep her down anymore. That she can do whatever a man can do and do it even better. I simply feel like that cheapens the character and is a very boring, shallow, and limited origin story because throughout a Hero’s career they will be challenged on their morals and the reasoning behind what they do.  (And GIRL POWER is already something that has been established in Cinema for well over 50 years...) Batman’s is vengeance versus justice. That is a HUGE topic for the hero and he has been struggling with that issue for decades. An argument could be made towards Shazam that his reason for being a hero and doing good, to protect his family, isn’t FOR his family or BECAUSE his family… it’s because he’s scared to be alone again. That could be a good inner struggle for Shazam. So what sort of personal beliefs are going to be challenged when it comes to Captain Marvel? What sort of personal dilemma or inner struggle can she possibly go through? Why is she a hero? Cause even if you extend her origin story away from her childhood and to the Kree Empire where she was being trained to be used as a weapon against the Skrull that goes back to the issue of oppression and ties in with the rest of her history. Carol has been oppressed by men, told what to do by men, and has been controlled and used by men (Yon-Rogg is the face of this issue, and once again he’s a man.) for their personal gain and desires.

I’m sorry, but it’s just weak and shallow. There are no further storylines that you can have that sort of validate her reasoning of being a hero without making it some gigantic feminist issue. If the issue isn’t about feminism then she’s simply trying to do the right thing to do the right thing… and ANYONE can do that. It doesn’t make her special. In fact, there’s nothing really special or ultimately heroic about her. All she is a woman that achieved powers and saved a couple of refugees and declared war on a corrupt Empire. It’s… weak. Steve Rogers fights for Freedom and fights against Tyranny and was forced to reevaluate America and Shield during Winter Soldier and Civil War. These CHALLENGED his very meaning of being a Hero and what he stood for... The Hulk and Bruce Banner fight because they’re constantly being hunted to be exploited for their power, and not just by people who want to use him for evil, but also by people that want to his power for good… the bottom line is Bruce and Hulk fight to escape being used as a chess piece. They just want to be left alone. In this sense they aren’t even a hero, and that makes it even better for them as a character because it makes their choices and issues interesting to say the least… Black Widow fights because she’s trying to make up for the evils of her past. Tony fights because he wants to protect who he loves most and that he feels he has an obligation to Earth and to protect innocent people from being killed like the ones that were being killed by the weapons he designed to protect them in Iron Man 1.

I’ll leave that there though. I think the last thing I want to talk about is the Mary Sue aspect of captain Marvel. Just so people don’t immediately hate me for calling her a Mary Sue I’m going to copy and paste the definition.

Mar·y Sue

noun

noun: Mary Sue; plural noun: Mary Sues

(originally in fan fiction) a type of female character who is depicted as unrealistically lacking in flaws or weaknesses.

"she was not a ‘strong woman’ so much as an insufferable Mary Sue"

So Captain Marvel is a Superhero and Superheros, in order to make them appealing and relatable, are ALWAYS shown to have flaws, weaknesses, and things about them that make them more human to the target audience. That’s what makes them lovable and likable. That you can relate to them and understand where they are coming from and sympathize with them. That you can watch them grow as a character and enjoy their Hero’s Journey. In this movie Captain Marvel has no character growth. Carol Danvers is literally the same as she was in the beginning as she was in the end except she has all her powers and now she hates the Kree. Carol Danvers has no personality flaws whatsoever except, maybe, arrogance and trust issues, and those aren’t exactly traits you want to share with her. They aren’t healthy character flaws. Besides that she barely has a personality to begin with for there to be any sort of flaws. ‘She’s spent six years learning to control her emotions,’ I’m sorry, but no. That argument is weak. Just because you learn how to CONTROL your emotions doesn’t mean that you sacrifice your personality in the process.

So with that being said she has no sort of personality flaw about herself and it is shown in the movie that she has no physical or emotional weaknesses either. In the entire movie the only time she was beaten was because of a surprise attack by Talon. From then on out she has consistently kicked ass, NEVER lost a fight, and NEVER physically struggled against any enemy. Carol was super strong and could NOT be stopped. It sucked any sort of drama or any sort of tension out of the movie. You knew she was going to win and be the hero because at that point nothing could stop her. Carol is a badass woman that could not be stopped. Yay Girl Power!

The best opportunity for her to have been given a weakness and a struggle was when she unlocked her full potential and had access to ALL of her power. To make her struggle to control it for the entirety of the battle except towards the end when she takes out those nukes sent down from Ronan. Even Peter Quill had issues controlling his powers and was CONSTANTLY being beaten by Ego until Yandu finally told him that he doesn’t control his inner strength and power with his head… he uses his heart… and that Power Up that he gets after that, after struggling and losing the ENTIRE movie, is extraordinarily satisfying. You LOVE it when he gets that power up. It’s like how in Wonder Woman she gets that power up after losing Steve and she goes ape shit… There’s a huge emotional lead up and tipping point in those scenes, but Captain Marvel doesn’t even do that. Instead she simply closes her eyes, and opens them and has complete control of her powers. It was ridiculous too because she hadn’t trained with even a decent percentage of her powers at her disposal before! For six years she just trained with a small itty bitty bit of her powers and then suddenly she has full control over ALL of her power as soon as unlocking it? That’s like a Fireman being trained to put out fires with a garden hose for six years only then to be dragged out to use a full on fire-hose at full power that usually requires more than one person to control and expected to do just fine…. Like, I’m sorry, but that’s not how that should have worked. After that point she’s basically Superman and cannot be stopped. There’s no fun to it anymore… it’s just a boring overpowered character being overpowered simply because she’s a woman… and this is only going to lead her up to being the hero that fans want to see lose. A LOT of people don’t like Superman because he’s a sort of Gary Stu in a sense and they ALWAYS love seeing him get his ass beat. By Batman, Shazam, Wonder Woman. Everyone enjoys seeing the most powerful man of all get taken down… Especially if they’re on their high horse like Captain Marvel is with her arrogant ass.

Oh yeah, the last thing I wanna add… They had to sex change Mar-Vell, the ORIGINAL Captain Marvel, because, of course, we can’t have a feminist movie with a feminist character that we’re trying to make into a feminist icon look up to a man after all. They had to have her looking up to a female Amelia Earhart sort of character instead of a Red Baron or Wright Brother sort of figure… That kinda peeved me as well.

So with ALL that being said, I simply think that she’s toxic because her entire character is based off of feminism. Modern Feminism at that. (I draw a line between Classical Egalitarian Feminism that I actually agree with, and Modern Feminism.) The issue is that not everyone agrees with the agenda of Modern Feminism and since she’s now the face of it, they’re just going to see an agenda they hate rather than a character they dislike. They’re going to see the Feminist Icon that they despise and won’t pay attention to her as a character. It’s going to cause a rift in the fan base, as it already has, and if she’s going to be made the face of Marvel like they want her to I can bet you that people are going to be finished with Marvel. Real, TRUE, fans of the MCU, not blue haired normie feminists as I’ve heard them described, are going to feel ostracised for not agreeing with Captain Marvels Politics and the fact that she’s so powerful simply because of girl power. I feel that with the introduction of her as a Feminist Icon that any movie she’s in is going to allude to that and buy into her Girl Power - Ex Machina stuff… Into the Mary Sue in her and it is going to cheapen every movie forward that she’s in. I mean, people are already talking about not seeing End Game because she’s in it and that they’re afraid she’s going to be the sole reason why the Avengers win… and frankly I’m afraid that she may be the reason why the Avengers win too and that would bother me a LOT. Not because she’s a woman, not because I hate women, but because she’s a terribly written character with no personality and is beyond arrogant. Especially in the, ‘Lets get Thanos.’ End Game clip that Marvel Released… It bothers me a lot…

EDIT: https://youtu.be/6byj_uqzGh8 Here's more proof that she's a Mary Sue in the MCU films... They buffed the fuck out of her over the MCU Thor who has been nerfed to hell.... "Captain Marvel is MUCH WEAKER than Thor."

[witchqueenofthemoon]

BODY AND SOUL Part 25 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: From here on out, Duncan and Kenzie will both start to manifest more of their witch/warlock powers, amid the rest of the story. Their powers in this universe will never be as strong as their powers are as Michael and Mallory, but they will eventually learn how to control them better. The further they get from the city, the stronger their powers will become--as we’ll see in the next part. Duncan’s powers are stronger when Kenzie is near and when his motivation is something for her benefit. If it’s not obvious from the context, Duncan manifests Transmutation in this part for the first time when he moves himself to the water table; as we all know, Transmutation is one of the Seven Wonders. I loved getting to write Madeline telling Gretchen to shut the fuck up. Duncan panicked so immediately at Kenzie’s disappearance, he completely forgot about trying to use his phone to call/text her; I needed him to realize he can feel her over distances now, so fuck phones. The macarons look like this. The gold bottles of Moet are these. With Sargent’s KARER SEE, I wanted to give the readers an indication of Duncan’s idea of heaven in a piece of art he’d looked at since childhood; a lot of the next few chapters will be about the magic and divinity of nature, so it’s leading into those themes. The artworks I reference in this part: Waterhouse’s THE MAGIC CIRCLE (I have a print of that one hanging in the hallway of our apartment), Robert-Hughes’ MIDSUMMER EVE (I’ve had a print of this one since I was 14, and that print hangs in our entranceway), Millais’ THE MARTYR OF THE SOLWAY, Robert-Hughes’ DREAM IDYLL (I want a print of this one so bad now, fuck, it’s so beautiful). The service people are dressed as The Lady of Shalott, Narcissus, and Rosamund. Here’s Robert-Hughes’ DAY and NIGHT (STAR OF HEAVEN). As my Duncan is a lifelong art lover (especially romantic art), he has studied the Pre-Raphaelites extensively and knows the paintings from that time period extremely well. I made D’AULAIRES BOOK OF GREEK MYTHS Duncan’s most beloved in childhood because for a long time it was MY most beloved, starting around the time I was 11 or 12--I would check it out of the library almost every week and draw meticulous copies of the illustrations. It was the first book that really made me love mythology, and it is VERY close to my (and my Duncan’s) heart. The older edition (the one I’d get at the library) had a yellow cover and looked like this, and that’s what Duncan’s copy looks like too. Here’s the illustration of Persephone running to Demeter. Annette’s Bosendorfer Imperial looks like this. I made C-sharp the key that opens the passage in the library to the garage because it’s the first note of MOONLIGHT SONATA. The oak paneling in the library looks like this, the chandeliers like this. G-class Mercedes SUVs really do come with a smart key feature, I didn’t make that up, I think that shit is fucking bananas. BPM is one of the electronic/house stations on Sirius XM. Here is the beautiful Jubel cover of DANCING IN THE MOONLIGHT Kenzie starts dancing to. That song is such a Duckenzie vibe. I listened to Kiiara’s Gloe a lot while editing this part, that is a HARD Duckenzie vibe song (”chain me up trap me in gold” like asdskgjshdghsg). SOMEONE PLEASE MAKE ME A GALA MOODBOARD, THANK YOU, I LOVE YOU ALL.

Duncan had felt drunk inside the strange aura Kenzie had created around them; his head was pounding now that it had evaporated, and it was all he could do to hold her against him, steady himself in her embrace. She felt suddenly hot and too-smooth under his fingers, like warm liquid was falling down her skin, like whatever she’d created around them was melting off her like rain water.

“Kenzie, baby, what was that?” He stared at her, his mind pricking with the residue of whatever it had been, like the final shocks of a fading orgasm. It was your power, angel. It was the energy that resides deep inside you. I know it was yours--but how did you do that? He’d balked harshly at Marissa’s sudden appearance, fighting off his intense dislike of her as best he could while she had been standing before him, but his relief at her departure was so heady he felt his body tingling with it now, with the relief of it. She had been from some other life; known some other Duncan. She should never have approached them, but Kenzie, he should have known, could take care of herself quite well, and now, it seemed, more than ever.

“I don’t really know, honestly, Dunny.” Kenzie’s face was pale under her makeup, her little breaths against him ragged with strain. “I just--I made her go away. I told her to leave.”

“That energy that was around us--it was like a force-field. I could feel it, Kenz. Like it was physical. Like putting your hand in water.”

“I made it. But I don’t really...I don’t know how. I just did it. I pulled it out of myself and put it around us.”

She was pressing against him, and Duncan knew she needed his energy, his comfort. Maybe I can give her some of myself the way she gives herself to me so often--the way she pushes gold into me. He brought his cheek against the side of her face, his hands drifting at the rose buds at the back of her hair, and tried to imagine the blue of him floating down into her; he watched Kenzie’s face relax, then her eyes closed. It’s working. He noticed some of the other guests watching them, glancing to him embracing her, over her gold train and her rose-scattered hair amid their conversations and as they drifted past into the dining area. Duckenzie, Duckenzie, Duckenzie. Duncan Shepherd and Mackenzie Stone, there they are, look how beautiful they are, a Shepherd and a Stone, can you believe it, look at how he holds her--Duncan almost felt as though he could hear their thoughts. The night seemed to stretch into forever for him, and despite his concern for her he still couldn’t will away the agonizing sensitivity of the ring around his cock; will this ever end? God, I want to be alone with you so much, Kenzie. I can’t wait for this night to be over. I long to be safe and hidden in your embrace; I long for our solitude. Kenzie nodded against him, and he realized he had gathered her up in his arms, realized she was weak to the point of collapse, her knees buckling. She let out a little gasp, as if in surprise.

“I think it--I think it was too much, baby,” she whispered, and he stepped around her, lifting under her arms to help her sit down on the staircase near them. “I think I just--I need some water.”

“Okay, baby, okay,” Duncan was crouching down near her, his mind racing with fear. Fuck, baby, what WAS that? It was so intense, so powerful--it knocked the breath out of me to even be touching you while you did it. How can you possibly do something like that? What are you, Kenzie? What are we? He pressed his hands along her arms, soothingly, thinking his blue-flame thoughts down into her, imagining them licking around her carefully, like a low fire of soothing warmth. This is all so strange, but it feels so familiar too.. Like we’re unlocking parts of ourselves we didn’t realize were there. But they have been, all this time.

“I’m gonna go get you some water, okay, baby? I’ll be right back.” Duncan was whispering against her cheek. Kenzie nodded, her arms limp in her lap, her face still pale.

“Yes, please,” she murmured, her voice small, sighing. “I just need to sit for a minute.”

Duncan kissed her cheek with aching softness, then stood, pushing the worry he felt down with an insistent hand, turning towards the dining area that had been set up through the hall--he immediately noticed a huge banner that covered the wall through the carpeted way here, a towering print of Waterhouse’s The Magic Circle, falling from the top of the mansion’s high ceiling to the black carpet that ran along the floor here, continuing from outside. Tonight I see Kenzie in it, he thought. Kenzie pulling the circle out of herself and willing Marissa away with it. Fuck, I was so angry, but Kenzie was so calm. Kenzie was so fearless. And she is. How can I be afraid when she’s near? Okay, Duncan, focus. Kenzie needs water. Find some, quickly.

He glanced behind him to see Kenzie still resting on the step, her hand pressed to the side of her face, her gaze staring off into space. God, how did you do that, though, baby? That was fucking magic. I don’t know what else to call it. Like us being able to hear each other’s thoughts. Just straight fucking magic. What ARE you, my love? Who are you? He turned back, peering into the huge inner parlor he knew comprised this part of his mother’s mansion. 

There were six low tables, embellished with black and gold cloth, spread against one wall, each with a stunning array of hors d’oeuvres and intricate sweets--round black-chocolate macarons with intricate golden icing, mounds of chocolate-dipped strawberries (white, dark, milk, caramel, toffee, even some with pink white chocolate) in every nook, tray after tray of glistening caviar and charcuterie, a hundred gold bottles of Moet stacked in a card-tower display, an impressive roasted pig with a russet-gold roasted apple in its mouth that seemed to be culled straight from a Medieval banquet hall, and an array of huge sheet cakes, each with a major Pre-Raphaelite work printed on it with sharp clarity--he could make out one with Robert-Hughes’ Midsummer Eve stretched across it, another with Millais’ serenely melancholy Martyr of the Solway. Everywhere I see her now, in everything, Duncan thought. There is no aspect that hasn’t adopted her shape. There is nothing that doesn’t reflect her in my eyes. He noticed crystal pitchers full of shivering ice water near the entrance to the next parlor with relief--but as Duncan went to step up to them to pour one for Kenzie, his path was blocked by a garish visage of gold and white tinsel--Gretchen Friedrichs.

“Duncan! There you are. But without your little princess, I see, I wonder where she went?”

Duncan breathed heavily through his nose, turning his eyes up to the ceiling, away from her blindingly white smile. Fates, surely you are testing me tonight. He felt his cock soften in the ring at the monstrosity of her dress--that at least is a boon, I guess.

“Afraid I don’t have the time for you tonight, Gretchen. You have a very selective memory regarding my willingness to actually engage with you.”

“You can’t possibly avoid me forever, Dunc-y,” she hissed, her smile clenching into a grimace. “I saw you and little Miss Stone talking to Marissa Montague over there, what a menage a trois that was, BPF would pay good money for the photo I snapped, I bet.”

“Gretchen, do whatever you want, but get out of my fucking way.” Duncan could feel hot anger boiling up behind his eyes and he snapped his mouth shut after the statement, his hands beginning to shake. Kenzie needs water and you are blocking it. Gretchen continued to ramble on with a smug look, but Duncan could no longer hear her words; a rushing like the hum of an ocean wave was filling his ears, and he closed his eyes, his body feeling hot, too hot, burning suddenly, like a fire growing under dry wood. I need to get to that water.

Suddenly Duncan was in front of the water pitcher table, so close to it he was falling against the edge, his eyes snapping open, almost losing his balance, bewildered as to how he got there. He glanced behind him in shock, noting that Gretchen was still where they’d both been standing a moment ago--he could only see the back of her horrible tinsel dress now, her head moving from side to side in confusion to find him. “What,” Duncan murmured to himself. “How--the fuck?” I thought about what I needed--water for Kenzie. And then what, I moved myself to the water table with my fucking mind? He felt wildly dizzy for a moment, watched the room pitch under his gaze, felt his eyes rolling--then he steadied himself with a forceful hand and grasped one of the pitchers, dipping it into one of the glass tumblers lined there. Who fucking cares, he thought. Water to Kenzie first, then I can figure out what the hell that was all about.

Duncan felt a hand dip against his elbow, dragging him out of his inner monologue--he heard Madeline’s familiar laugh near his shoulder, and looked down at her with a wave of intense relief. He noticed Erik had come up beside him with her, and Madeline’s laugh was directed at Annette’s flamboyant stylist.

“Duncan, there you are,” Madeline said, mirroring Gretchen’s facetious words with a reassuring sincerity. “Where’s Kenzie?” Suddenly Madeline looked worried, her mouth dipping down from the laugh.

“She felt dizzy and asked me to get her some water, so I left her on the stairs in the foyer--”

“Did something happen, sweetie? You look terribly pale.” Erik was holding a dry martini with three green olives swirling in the bottom, a plastic stirring straw languidly poised in his hand. He’d clearly been in the middle of one of his many wild stories (usually regarding being an openly gay socialite in 70’s New York City), but had stopped abruptly upon seeing Duncan’s confused face.

“We ran into Marissa Montague. She was harassing us--I don’t know how to explain it. Kenzie told her to go away, and she did. But then Kenzie felt dizzy. I think it’s all...it’s just a lot for her,” he finished, lamely. Finding out she has the actual mind power to make people go away if she wants them to, yeah, that’s a lot for her. And a lot for me too. And apparently I can move myself from one place to another just by thinking about it hard enough. So...that’s new.

“Honey, you look awful--I mean, you look wonderful, but you look awful, like you did last night. I saw Annette in the next room over, you might want to stay out of there if you’re trying to avoid her tonight,” Madeline had a plate with several of the chocolate-and-gold macarons on it in her hand. She offered one to Duncan and he took it. “Thanks, Madeline. I’ll bring this to Kenzie too. I think we’re just--it’s been a really long few days.”

“Duncan Shepherd, you’re going to talk to me or I’m going to give that photo to BPF--” Gretchen’s voice was coming up on them now from where she’d finally turned around.

“Gretchen, shut the fuck up,” Madeline snapped at her, pursing her lips and glaring at the platinum-haired woman over her glasses. “I told you not to cart your bootlicking bony ass near Duncan and Mackenzie tonight, didn’t I? Are you fucking deaf?” Gretchen’s mouth closed with a snap, and Erik snorted at her in abrupt amusement. Duncan sent a silent thank you out to Kenzie’s (wonderful, bold, brilliant, badass) mother, and brushed past Gretchen’s horrible tinsel sleeve, the glass of water in one hand and the little chocolate macaron in the other, back towards where he had left Kenzie on the stairs. He heard Gretchen’s snappy heels try to come after him, then the rushing swirl of Erik’s earrings and poncho as he blocked her path. I love you both so much, Duncan thought. I could kiss your feet right now. I could sing your high praises into heaven.

He walked quickly back through the hall, heart racing, eyes glancing back up to The Magic Circle, hovering over him, spread gargantuan on the wall like an overwhelming spell, and he felt a drop in his stomach, suddenly, a foreboding drift of precognition--Duncan looked up to where he’d left Kenzie on the stairs. The spot was empty, and Kenzie was nowhere to be seen.

Oh no. Baby. Where are you.

Duncan’s eyes skirted back and forth rapidly, over the politicians and celebrities decked in opulent gowns and meticulously tailored suits, his heart floating up again into his throat, stifling his breath. He tried to steady his racing thoughts--okay, Duncan, okay. Where would she have gone. Maybe she went outside to get some air. The front balcony is up the stairs. She would have seen it from outside.

Duncan turned up the staircase, dipping his head down, anxious to avoid anyone coming down the stairs opposite him, but skirting his eyes up to search for Kenzie. He saw a flash of gold on the opposite side of the staircase, started toward it--but it was someone else, a random woman with a gold bow tied around her waist, her arm looped around the man descending the stairs beside her. And the problem with making gold part of the theme is...everyone is wearing something gold. A cold sweat was breaking out on Duncan’s brow, and his skin felt clammy, his nerves jangling wildly. Fuck, baby, where did you go.

Duncan reached the top of the staircase, turning with a clipped insistence from the banister to the upstairs railing, around to where he knew the balcony extended over the front doorway; he thought of the night he’d come here to tell his mother about Kenzie for the first time, the dark look in her eyes as she’d gazed down on the BMW from her lofty position. You always want to be a little bit above everyone else, Mom, he thought, but Claire Underwood outwitted you this time. She told me the one thing she knew would make me resent you. And now I do. I can’t help it. I’m fucking heartbroken, and I resent you. I resent that it had to come to this for you to accept Kenzie, too. For you to finally see how beautiful she is. It shouldn’t have taken you so long. It’s so obvious. She’s like the sun in a clear summer sky, the moon tonight, golden and immediate. You knew right away that she was infinitely lovely. But you refused to let me see that you knew. You were selfish, and you hid what you knew in your heart to be true. Duncan was still clutching the glass and the macaron in a careful hand. These are for Kenzie, so I need to keep them safe.

Duncan pitched one of the French doors open with the opposite hand, half-running out onto the ledge of the balcony--there were two men smoking and chatting animatedly to one another, one of them gesticulating in the air and the other laughing, and they both turned to him, surprised at the loud bang of the door swinging open. He glanced at them, them his eye skirted over the rest of the ledge, frantic, to no avail. There was no one else. Kenzie isn’t here. Kenzie, where are you, fuck, baby, where the fuck are you.

“Mr. Shepherd, are you alright?” One of the men spoke loudly to him, cupping his hand beside his mouth from where they were leaning. He didn’t recognize them, but it made sense that they’d recognize him; this was his mother’s house, after all.

“Have either of you seen Mackenzie Stone? She’s wearing a gold dress with a long train and a gold necklace with a ruby. Roses in her hair.”

The men looked at each other, shaking their heads, then back at him. “Nobody’s been out here but us since we came out to smoke. Before you, that is.”

“Okay. Um. Thanks.” 

Duncan turned, sickness pitting in his stomach, feeling dizzy again. He yanked the French door open again, reentering the mansion--he could hear the loud sounds of the crowd growing downstairs, and alarm was beating wildly into him, beginning to constrict his throat and needle at his lungs. She was dizzy, what if she fainted somewhere? What if someone bothered her? Harris isn’t here, what if someone took her somewhere? Oh, fuck. The needling fear compounded in him, pressing painfully into his senses. Duncan breathed in, slowly, closing his mouth. Remember how you told her to breathe. Just breathe. Her face was so frightened. But you calmed her. You know you did. You pressed your comfort into her, the way she can to you. You can do that, too, and you know it. You just did something else, too. You moved without moving through physical space. You fucking teleported from one end of the room to the other. How the fuck would you do that? But you fucking did it. You didn’t walk around Gretchen--she wouldn’t have let you. You fucking MOVED through invisible space around her. You mutated time and space and made yourself appear where you wanted to be. You twisted it to your will. You know you did. You FELT it.

Duncan held the breath, then blew carefully through his mouth, closing his eyes.

If I can do that--if I can move through time and space if I want something badly enough, if I need it badly enough--I wonder if I can will myself to feel her, too, if I need it badly enough, if I need to know. Feel her across time and space, wherever she is in this house, feel her there, and know that she’s there, and fucking find her. I wonder if that first night on the balcony I was drawn there by the knowledge that she was there. That even though I didn’t know it consciously, I knew it innately. I knew she was there in my secret heart. I think so. I think I did.

So, now. Kenzie. Where are you. Show me where you are.

Duncan breathed in once more, through his nose--then, he held the breath, and as he did, he pressed himself outward (through time and space), sent himself, his secret self, out. He felt it, felt the piece of him like a tendril, a string (a golden thread, tinged with blue) that extended from him and drifted out, searching, intent. Kenzie. Where are you. Tell me. It’s me, Kenzie.

He continued to drift himself out this way, to let his mind wander in cool darkness. He couldn’t see the interior of the mansion in his mind--it was inky black with his eyes closed, and there were no images in his mind, but nevertheless he could feel the searching, sense it rather than see it, and knew, suddenly, that he was close to her, that she was nearby--in his senses he could suddenly smell roses and vetiver, the muskiness of her body, could sense that she was in tears, could almost taste their salt. Kenzie, Kenzie. Oh baby, where are you? It’s me. Tell me where you are. Can you hear me?

He opened his eyes. She hadn’t replied--he hadn’t heard her voice, not out loud and not in his mind, either--but Duncan could feel her anyway, feel the gold of her, pulsing like a ball of immaculate light. He couldn’t really see where she was, not with his eyes. But he could feel her. He began to walk, releasing all resistance from his mind as he let the breath out--his feet led him back down the stairs, and then he was running down them, the water from the glass in his hand splashing down his fingers. He veered to the side, around the stairs and under them, narrowly avoiding a Congresswoman in a voluminous glittering black gown, gasping out an apology and continuing back, through the space there with a good portion of his mother’s private art collection, down a back hall. 

No one was back here--the hall opened to another large parlor, this one dark and quiet, the shadows long on the red velvet loveseats. Duncan knew this room well; it had once been his downstairs playroom when he was a child, later converted to another sitting room when he went away to private boarding school, the one where he’d been bullied relentlessly, as he revealed to Kenzie at Madeline’s house last night. He saw more of his mother’s storied art collection on these walls as he rushed through the room, still following the feeling that was Kenzie--particularly, one of the pieces he’d long admired since he was a child. It was called Karer See, and it depicted a landscape of pink, navy and lavender precipices, rising above a dappled green-and-coppery forest and the white rocky shore of a blue lake in watercolors. It was a protected monument in Italy, and the painting was by a turn-of-the-century American named John Singer Sargent, who was far better known for his portraits, particularly one of Teddy Roosevelt. As a child Duncan remembered staring at it for hours, particularly drawn to its purply hills--I bet heaven looks like that, he remembered thinking. Like those hills. Now they drew him back into the memory of the dreams he’d been having as of late; the dream of Kenzie with wings, soothing his darkness away, the dreams in the ethereal other place that felt imperceptible to him outside those dreams, where Kenzie’s eyes whirled with golden galaxies and her clothing was made of strange geometries. Duncan walked quickly past the painting, his eyes skirting to it in the shadows, affectionately, like it was an old friend.

His feet continued to carry him beyond, through to the end of the room, and Duncan’s heart slammed into his ribs: he could really feel her now, knew she was very close, could feel the golden-blue thread running down to her, shortening with every step he took, his black Wyatt boots clicking in the silence and shadows of this part of the mansion, ringing in his ears. The golden, pulsing heart of her was close, so close--he marveled at it, seeing it and not seeing it, wondering how he could have ever missed it that first night, missed it in the days that led up to now, but then recalled how her headband with pointed stars had looked in the city lights that night--how Kenzie looked in the morning, in the sunlight, in his bedroom, in his bed, soon to become theirs. A halo. And this light--this is her halo. It’s not a halo like how I’ve always thought of one, though. This halo is the iridescence of her soul, and it calls out to me, through time. I would see it in the deepest darkness. I would see it even if every star in the universe burnt out into nothing. I’d see it. I would. I can quiet my mind, and in that quiet place, and I can always find her. I will always be able to see her there.

At the end of the room was a squared half-space cut away from the wall, and in the space were three doors--one led outside, through an unremarkable blank white door with a peephole, a door which Duncan knew well. It faced the backlot of the mansion and when he was a child a car would pick him up from that curb to take him to his private elementary school. The door to his right was a supply closet for the housekeeper--and the left door was an old-fashioned powder room, a golden plaque on it with laser-cut letters that told as much, with a elegant round sink, a vanity with an oval mirror, a blush-colored chaise lounge and a discreet toilet with a wood door, if he remembered correctly. It was rarely used, as this back parlor room was now rarely used--and therefore no one would suspect it to be occupied by any guests tonight.

But Kenzie’s in there, Duncan knew. And she’s been crying.

Duncan went to the door, and for a moment he didn’t speak, only achingly pressed his fingers against it--he could feel her emanating out from it with golden warmth, tinged with painful spears of distress. Duncan realized he’d felt these spears before, but not as consciously--that night she texted me and asked me to come to her apartment, that same night I told Mom about her, he realized. I could feel her tears all the way to her door. My heart had ached with them. It was as if his memory had been shrouded in a fine fog, and feeling her as he now could, many hidden aspects of it were now becoming clear. And now that he was here, now that his ear was pressed to the door, Duncan could hear her, so quiet as to be almost imperceptible to his ears, but with his mind he could hear her, finally hear her voice, and then he could hear the minute rustle of her tears, the quiet movements she made in the room behind the door.

Why is there so much darkness in people’s hearts? Her thoughts drifted into him, and he felt that she didn’t know he was there yet, lost in her sadness. Why can I feel it press on me so sharply now, feel it as though it were my own burden? Why is it so cutting, like a knife? Is it because we love each other so much? Has it opened my heart so much that I can feel pain as well, as much as beauty and joy, this way? Goddess, it fucking aches. The hate in his eyes. As if he resented my very existence, my reality. Resented his Fate, and wished he could begrudge me my own.

Oh, baby, what happened. Duncan knocked, softly, breath hitching. “Kenzie. Baby. It’s me.”

There was silence on the other side of the door for a moment and he could hear Kenzie sniffing now, her little voice sighing, and it made his body shudder with longing for her. He tried the knob; it was locked.

“Kenzie. Please let me in.”

There was another beat, and then he could hear her moving--moving to the door and turning the lock. She pulled it open and he moaned to see her tearstained face in the low golden light she’d switched on in the powder room; the glistening moisture on her cheeks. Her eyes (the damp cool of evening as the light fades to russet gold) fell into his and he reached for her, gripped her little wrist in aching fingers over the gold and diamond of the Cartier bracelet locked there, and gently pushed on the door so it fell open. Kenzie stood there weakly, her golden aura still intensely lovely, her sadness shrouded in angelic sweetness; her sadness is divine, as everything that is her is divine, her sorrow holy, and I would kiss it from her lips, drink it into me, take it from her and soothe her. Duncan shut the door behind them, turning the lock again. No eyes but mine, baby. He set down the water glass, half empty from spilling it as he ran, and macaron, now half-crushed, onto the vanity, gathering her into his arms, gathering the golden folds of her dress into his body, pressing his face down into the crook of her little collarbone against the gold braid of the necklace, the scent of the roses in her hair drifting into him, and he loved it so, loved the way she melted into him, the relief he felt wash over her to be inside his arms, the relief he pushed into her to have found her safe, to have found her, to have seen her and found her this way. She sighed, her head falling back, her eyes fluttering closed, and her mouth dipped open, pressing against the dripping gold of his jacket.

“Fuck, Kenzie, I was so scared--”

“I’m sorry, baby, I’m sorry,” she was whispering and his mouth was rushing against hers, I can’t fucking not kiss you anymore, baby, I can’t be away from you anymore, please let me kiss you, please kiss me oh god I thought you were gone I thought you were hurt I thought you were lost and he was saying “Kenzie, I love you, I fucking love you, baby, I love you--” and she was moaning with an aching insistence into him, lifting her breasts into his fingers in the delicate boning of her bodice, her little arms drifting around his neck, her hair and the dip of her back so soft it brought tears into his eyes, her little tongue pressing against his suddenly, her head turning and reaching up to his fingers, her little hands flitting down over the crotch of his tightly tailored pants, kindling the blood back into his cock, reminding him of the ring again finally as it pressed needily into his hardness after his panicked forgetting, reminding him that he belonged to her and she belonged to him, and that this day has been such a long one to bear, jagged with emotion, that he longed for her as the sun longed for the moon during the longest day. Duncan was gasping against her, determined to find the source of her pain before he became utterly lost in her--he broke their kiss, looking down into her eyes, pressing her against the edge of the vanity’s mahogany table. They were half-lidded now, their dark green-gold shimmering with an insistent approval, an urging that was tinged with pain and kindled with need.

“Kenzie, what happened? Why are you crying? Why did you leave the stairs?”

He kept his voice soothing and low, watched the little trembling movements of her face, the shivering of her eyelashes, the tears hovering there, the dip of wetness on her lips from him, the dampness around her nose from crying. Her makeup hadn’t been mussed, though--Georgio had done his job immensely well. She looked down, and he saw her chin trembling now, too, fighting off more tears. He pulled a tissue from a box on the vanity, gently dabbing it under her eyes, soothing it on her cheeks, his other hand coming up to cup under her chin.

“It was your uncle.”

“What?” God, I’d completely forgotten he’d be here. He shouldn’t be, he’s too sick, but he’s so stubborn. He must be in a lot of pain tonight. Fuck, he must be in a terrible mood tonight.

“He’s here. He showed up a minute after you went to get me some water--” Kenzie glanced at the half-empty glass, reached for the macaron absently, staring down at it, avoiding his eyes now, trying to hide her hurt.

“From Momby,” he murmured, and she nodded, lip trembling again, bringing it up to her lips and biting into it, a tear falling from her eye as she nibbled at it, as if to absorb her mother’s strength through it.

“He--he saw me first. I still felt so weak, I felt like I could hardly stand. He recognized me right away. I sort of recognized him, I mean, I’d seen a picture of him before, and I felt that it was him, you know? How I can...do that.” She breathed in, shudderingly, and Duncan lowered his hand carefully to her thigh, the silence heavy, pressing into them. His cock was pressing into the front of his pants now, flushed with arousal again at her nearness, the terrible ache in him returned after the anxiety had pushed it back. Kenzie had turned her eyes up to him once more, her hair falling back, the very soft golden light in the solitude of the powder room glinting through her dress. It was so quiet now; his fear had stilled, his anxiety had gone entirely, and all he knew was that Kenzie was sad, that he wanted her with an ache that was utterly beyond words, and that the strange, chaotic energy of this evening was reaching a peak, the press of it having settled into his body. He realized vaguely that he hadn’t had a drink for hours and yet felt deeply drunk--drunk on you, my love, drunk with need for you.

“He came up to me and I could feel how much pain he was in right away--his face was pinched with pain, and he was trying to hide it in his body but I could feel it,” Kenzie had swallowed the rest of the cookie and was moving her hands out towards him, towards his chest, her fingers drifting against him. Fuck, yes, Kenzie, touch me, please, please, there’s nothing else but your touch. Duncan let his other hand drift up to her breast and Kenzie leaned into his fingers, her head dipping to the side as she spoke.

“He said “you’re a cunning little slut, aren’t you, well, you’re not getting into this family no matter how many times you fuck him,” and the pain he was in was so strong, Duncan, it was like I couldn’t even speak, couldn’t move, I could feel it like dark storm clouds--I felt frozen around him, he felt dark, I wanted to run away from him but he grabbed onto me here--” she held up her wrist and Duncan reached for it with achingly delicate fingers, soothing along her skin where he could almost feel the hot memory of his uncle’s anger. How dare you, Bill. How fucking dare you touch her. I could fucking kill you. “--and he said I bet you had something to do with Claire Underwood telling him about all that, didn’t you, I bet you’re the one who told him to go to Claire--” “Oh, fuck, baby, no, fuck--” Duncan was pressing against her now, pressing her into the vanity’s edge, and he felt the anger and need in him crash against him again, felt the ring pressing with insistence into his groin, could feel the trembling in her limbs expanding now, could feel the sadness in her dissipating into her own desire, her thoughts beginning to pulse with a deeper frustration, one for him. I want you, he heard it drift through him, into the core of him. Fuck, Duncan, I want you now.

“Who fucking cares what he thinks about anything, Kenzie--” his mouth was hovering just above hers, his arms tight around her, tightening more, desperate to have her as close as she could possibly be, the halo of gold hovering around her in his eyesight now. “He’s dying and he resents our happiness and you know that, he resents you because you’re so fucking lovely and so good, and so much more than he ever was, could ever be--” and Kenzie was breathing harshly against him now, fighting to hold onto her composure, he could feel it, feel her need to hold out for just a moment longer, her skin damp and warm and so soft under his fingers, her smell exquisitely sweet with an edge of wildness now, the Bacchanalian energy of the Gala beyond having finally reached them here in this secret corner, and it seemed to be flooding the powder room, stoking his cock. His hands fell down to cup around her ass and Kenzie’s words hitched, she moaned into the edge of his jaw, “he hated me, baby--ha-hated me, hated, and it filled me with such sorrow for him, ohhh, Duncan, he hated my light, he wanted to crush it, so I ran away from him, I found this room, and Dunny, I felt you here, I felt that this space used to be yours, is that right, was it? Dunny--”

“Mhmmm, yes, Kenzie, it was--it was my playroom when I was little, it was mine for a long time, Kenzie, oh my Kenzie,” and his hands were falling further down to dip her ass apart, to spread her achingly from the plug he knew was still nestled inside her, and he opened his mouth against hers, hovering a breath away from kissing her, and he felt, with a deep, overwhelming drift of satisfaction, her own mouth open under him, the supplication in her in this moment, the aching breadth of the pause where their lips anticipated and contemplated each other, could suddenly sense the musk of her climb higher, sense her sharp need for him. The openness that had come upon her felt like it would stop his heart; Duncan knew, suddenly, that she would let him do anything he wished to her, let him worship her by any means in this room, in this moment charged with the intensity of this night, and that the anger she had felt from Bill Shepherd had only kindled in her, ultimately, the desire to love him even more, if she possibly could, had solidified and crystallized her devotion, and therefore Bill had failed, failed utterly in his goal to hurt her acutely. The hurt in her was already melting away, already obsolete in the face of their desire for each other now, and her trust burst over Duncan like the soothing, stinging slap of a cascade of clear water. I would die for you, Duncan Shepherd. I would die a thousand deaths. There are no words for my devotion. As I know you are devoted to me with all of your soul, know that my devotion too is undying. There is nothing that can tear us asunder, not truly. Now, beloved: worship me with your body.

Duncan’s fingers drifted down, down through the dip between her ass, finding the jeweled end of the plug under the silky gold; Kenzie gasped into his mouth and her breath was sweet with chocolate, her eyes glowing with the depth of her need, the tears still trapped there now tears of her devotion for him, and his hand pressed, hard, insistent, against it, pressing the plug harshly into her, her body rocking up from the edge of the vanity flush against him. His other hand came up, drifting over her collarbones, up to the slender, delicate beauty of her throat, fingers trailing over the gold braid (but I’m imagining your rose choker there, so achingly beautiful, my beloved) and he gripped her there, gentle at first, then with gathering strength, pulling her flush against him, her legs now spreading on either side of his thigh, one of them dipping, white and achingly beautiful, from the slit in the cascade of the golden gown she wore, the space between her thighs hot through the leg of his pants, his crotch heavy with hardness against her abdomen, one hand driving the plug roughly into her, the other squeezing into her throat, her mouth open under his.

“Fuck me, Prince,” Kenzie whispered, her breath gasping under his hand. Duncan tightened it again. She cried out, her voice needling into him; he closed his eyes, gasped against her, his lips dipping up to her nose, down to the crook of her chin. Her slender, beautiful hands found the button of his pants, finally, Kenzie, fuuuuck, fuck me, fucking finally, and she was working the opening there apart, fingers finding the silicone edge of the ring, the absolute torment that had become his erection, stoked back and forth for hours now between the throes of hardness and arousal. She pulled it out, her touch a wild distress to him, making him groan beyond his ability to control, and he looked down as she did at his cock--it was pink with hardness, straining, jumping with a shivering vibration against her palm cupped along its underside. It needed her, and nothing else would suffice. Please, help me, his thought leaked through him, and he saw that she heard him with acute clarity from the blush on her cheeks. Only you can ease my suffering, Mackenzie Stone.

Kenzie kept her palm flush against his cock, her eyes finding his, locking in his gaze, and she dipped her fingers up between her legs, up under the slit of the dress, finding the waistband of her panties and leaning away from the edge of the vanity--she pulled them down and as they fell around her ankles she lifted her feet out of them, pushing them away with the edge of one heel. She spread her thighs apart now, the dress hitching a little up her hips from the slit, shimmering, exposing her to the dip of her leg turning into her abdomen, but still shrouding her cunt, and Duncan demandingly urged his hand against the plug inside her ass again through the supple fabric--the moan that fell from her lips drifted in a long, loud cadence, extending through the moment, spreading with a golden insistence. Kenzie didn’t speak again, only slid up onto the vanity’s mahogany surface now, his hand lifting at her ass to steady her there, and then using her palm to guide his thick, constricted cock to the dip between her legs, and her eyes said I’m going to beg you now, beloved, I want to beg you.

“Please fuck me,” she whined into him, her eyes liquid with color, and Duncan heard the moan that escaped him, an involuntary one he’d never have been able to stave off, a cry that erupted from the center of his soul. He drove himself into her, and they gasped into the crevice of each other’s lips, her little tongue pressing flush into his, her need exquisite, wanton, and abject. Duncan felt lost in it--her trust was absolute here, and it shattered at his soul. He kept his fingers pressed tightly at her throat, the golden necklace indenting into his palm as he carefully hitched at her dress, riding it up higher towards her hips, pressing her thighs apart, and dipping his thumb down to her clit, down to her cunt to feel at her wetness to be sure she was ready, before he drove his cock further into her, utterly, until he was buried inside her, and he went to her ear and whispered “Kenzie, I have been waiting to fucking fuck you, and now I’m going to do it for as long as I want to, and you’re mine, aren’t you, baby, aren’t you, you’re my angel baby who needs my cock, aren’t you?”

“Yes, yes, Dunny, yes, fuck me, fuck, ahh, you’re so fucking hard, unng, please, please, I need you, I need your cock, neeeeed you--”

He was tapping his fingers against the plug now, harsh little snaps that made her body keen, made her eyes flutter rapidly, made her breath shudder out as he drove in and out of her, his eyes dipping down to look at the spread lips of her labia, the glistening moisture of her arousal, the wetness and painful hardness of his thick cock as he fucked her, the ring causing blood to course through his length again and again, sending his mind into a shivering spiral of lust that urged him on, harder, harder, and he was dragging her against him, their bodies so flush that he lost his understanding of where they ended, as he had before, a loss so exquisite to him he already felt sorrow for the moment he knew they’d be separated again, her little face pressed into the crook of his neck, her fingers gripping at his jacket with tight fingers, her mouth a round, supple fruit on his skin, and her keening, tiny sounds sending undulations of relief into him, shudderingly cool, achingly hot.

“Finally, finally, fuck, Kenzie, I thought I would fucking die from not being able to fuck you--” their mouths were distressing into each other, his hand still possessive at her throat, and he wanted to speak to her aloud, wanted her to hear him with her ears rather than her thoughts, wanted to speak, needed to tell her as well as he could with words, “I thought I’d go insane from it, god, like your hand was around me all day, like your lips were on me there, I’ve been lost in thoughts of you, lost in my need for you--”

“I wanna suck your cock, baby,” she was whispering into him now, and Duncan moaned, the tiny softness of her in his arms, under his hand, around his length, making him shake. “Please, baby, please let me suck on your beautiful cock, it’s what I want. Make me suck it.” Blood surged into his length again, buried inside her, and he gasped, sucking air through his teeth, her eyes (golden starlight in a galaxy of green) hovering at his cheeks, her little face imploring him, beyond irresistible. I’m high on you, drunk on you, you are the headiest wine, the strongest weed, a drug beyond the sweetest of any drug on earth, my lovely beloved, my exquisite Princess, the constant kindling of my heart to the highest of all pleasure. He was pulling out of her, lost for a moment in the disappointment of his emptiness, then Kenzie was sliding off the vanity to the floor, sliding to her knees before him in the gold dress, the roses in her hair cascading with sweet scent, her little fingers gripping at him, wet with the arousal from inside her, dipping her mouth suddenly, quickly against the head of his cock and sucking lightly, her tongue fluttering on the underside against the delicate veins there, and the roses in her hair were shuddering at her attentions to him, they were shivering with her ache, and Duncan was moaning again, his hands gripping the sides of her head and driving her down onto him, her mind urging him on, yes, baby, yes, like that, make me suck you this way, I know you keep a wild god inside you and he pulses with lust, he wants to prostrate me, I long to be prostrated in this moment, I long for his wild needs, so make me, make me--and he was gripping her under her chin, gripping his long fingers under her jaw so his thumb pressed under her ear on one side of her face, and his index finger pressed to the other, and he was fucking her mouth with long, steady motion, and Kenzie’s eyes fluttered closed and she choked on him, her little throat constricting, but in her mind she was saying do not stop, don’t stop Duncan, don’t stop, fuck me, fucking fuck me, fuck your Princess, my mouth is for you--and so he did, continued to fuck her little mouth, his hardness filling her, drool sliding from her chin as she hooked her fingers around his thighs, clutching onto him.

“I’m not gonna come in your mouth, baby,” he murmured down to her, hearing the commanding edge there, knowing it was what she wanted him to say, knowing she wanted demands from him, because Duncan could feel the rushing in his ears, falling down his body, the threat of his release, and he was desperate to fuck her ass, fuck her ass that had been made caged for him for hours, fuck her ass that had had the plug hidden there, a secret for his pleasure, waiting for him. “It’s time to take your plug out now, and I’m gonna fuck your ass as hard as I want to, angel. Okay?” He was pulling out of her, his fingers still gripping along her jaw, and Kenzie was gasping, her eyes drifting open and closed, spittle leaking around her lower lip, her head crooked to the side as if she were about to drift into sleep, her little breasts heaving for air.

“Okay, baby,” she was moaning, and he was dipping down, his tongue lapping up the spit on her chin, lips bruising into hers, and her arms drifted up around his neck and he was pulling her up to her feet, steadying her, kissing her again and again, tasting at her need which hovered around her like a patina, knowing his own was as strong, loving the feeling of their mingling desires, loving that he knew how much she wanted him to command her this time, loving that he could give her what she was asking for, loving her radiant trust, lost in its effulgence. He pressed her back against the vanity again, his hands pressing harshly along her arms, along the golden waist of her gown, tasting her still, following the thrill of her tongue and her sighs, then he drifted himself away from her mouth with all the resolve he could muster, turned her hips so she faced the mirror, and looked into her eyes there. Kenzie’s breath was shallow, her eyes glowing with that unearthly gold, and she was nodding to him, her mouth dipped open. Fuck my ass, baby.

Duncan crouched, grasped the long hem of her gown, and straightened, pulling the dress in endless gathers of gold lame, dipping them up over her ass, holding them steady at her waist in his fist, tightly. His cock was pressing, utterly stiff and straining with painful hardness, against the dip between her ass cheeks now, and he moved back a little to see the jeweled end of the plug glittering up at him--around it, her ass was red with its attention, raw with its pressure from hours of its pressing on her, and Duncan groaned, feeling his cock jump up at the sight of it. Fuck. Angel. Spread for me. Spread your legs for me. Kenzie moved her thighs apart as he gripped the folds of her dress carefully at her back, and Duncan watched the plug bob inside her, shiver as her ass clenched on it. Time for me to fuck you in your tight little ass, Princess Kenzie.

He drifted his long fingers down to the jewel, then Duncan whispered “Push out, baby,” and Kenzie nodded, her golden gaze shivering on him in the vanity’s oval mirror--he pulled at the jeweled end, insistent, as he felt her ass push outwards, and Kenzie moaned, moaned so that Duncan fought the urge to come in that very moment, sucked his resolve in with a cold hand, because her moan was piteous and lit with low pain, deep pleasure, and overwhelming rapture for him.

“Fuck, I’m so empty now, fuck, I need you, Dunny,” her words were rushing out into her moan, her hands clutching at the edges of the vanity, and Duncan dropped the plug to the floor, unceremoniously, its use now at an end for their devotions in this moment, and he brushed her hair to the side, over her shoulder, loathe to muss it, grasping her neck (warm, shivering) in hot, insistent fingers, and he said “you’re mine, Kenzie, and I am infinitely blessed,” and he drove himself, adamant and inexorable, inside the tight hollow of her, and Kenzie cried out in a voice that sent a patterned madness into his mind, like the holy geometries of their divine dreams.

She was crying out again now, in a stream of sound, almost sobbing, as he drove in and out of her achingly sensitive ass, teased for him as it had been, and his cock was so hard with the pressure of the ring that he felt his eyes rolling back, his mouth open and his tongue pressing out against his lips, the entirety of the sensation of her simply too much to bear. “Fuck my little ass, baby, fuck it hard, fuck me good, baby, fuck me, harder, fucking harder, make me fucking scr-eee-am---” Kenzie voice bled out as he lowered himself into a studied concentration, pushing her into the vanity’s edge roughly, his thighs smacking into the bottom of her ass as he plunged himself into her, her tone lifting into an ecstatic abandon as he stretched her. Her asshole was swollen, pinched with redness, and his cock was rosy with strain and the veins of him stood out starkly as he watched himself slide into her, then out, then back, concentrating all his effort on fucking her, his hand dipping down between the lips of her cunt and his index finger sliding with conviction into the top of her clit, steadying there with a careful pressure, dipping down then holding, dipping back up, beginning a lazy motion that he knew was sending sharp shocks of arousal through her groin there, because now he could see it in her mind, see the shape of her orgasm like the golden sphere of her soul that he had seen before, the one he had run towards.

“Fucking you, Kenzie, is the greatest pleasure I’ve ever felt--or will ever feel,” he dipped down to her ear, murmuring clearly into it, leaning over her, staring into her eyes as he worked with slow, steady movements into her ass, against her clit. “There are no words for your beauty, no description for your loveliness, and nothing I can say will ever truly give justice to the depth of my love for you, only you, only you, Kenzie, forever--” and she was crying out again, unable to speak, her mouth dipped up in an ecstatic expression, her eyes in his, then rolling up, overwhelmed, and she was leaning back to receive his cock, leaning back from the edge of the vanity so he was buried in her, their bodies in tandem, rocking back and forth. Her dress had begun to slip from his hand and he gripped it tightly again, rebounding into her, reconcentrating his fingers on her clit and lifting her body up into his with steady hands, watching her little fingers clenching against his arm where she clutched at him as he held her, and he could see the way her thighs had begun to shudder, a sure sign of her orgasm rushing close by--your beautiful curvy thighs begin to shake, then the rest of your body, your beautiful body, I love it so, your beauty calms every fear in my heart, my Kenzie, I adore you, I worship you, I love you, I always will--

“Dunny--fucking FUCK--your cock is fucking heaven, you’re heaven--Dunnyyyyy--” she was crying out his name in a long wail, his mouth open achingly on her jaw, sucking, his tongue pressing into her wildly sweet skin there, his hands holding her little body flush to him as he continued to fuck her taut, diminutive asshole, not allowing himself to falter in his ministrations despite the intoxicating sound of her voice, stretching out into a keening lament that made his skin break out immediately into sweat, the sound of her almost otherworldly, like the voice of ecstasy from another world, and it was beautiful to him beyond all description, the sound of her this way. Eventually, Kenzie quieted to low, keening whimpers, and her arm lifted to the side of his hair and his ear as he continued to work at her ass and her clit with his fingers, down the angular stubble of his jaw, her middle and index fingers dipping into his mouth (suck baby, suck on me, suck on my neck and my fingers and fuck my little ass and come for me, come now, okay, it’s time for you to fucking come for me--), his teeth pressing gently into the pads of them as he sucked insistently at her, his own moans compounding now that she had gone still--he could feel her clit twinging under his touch from her comedown, and it stirred his release lower, lower, the voracious orgasm he’d been holding since yesterday now prickling again in earnest behind his hips, her little sounds coaxing him, the tightness of her unbearable around his painful hardness, her mouth still open and her head still thrown back, eyes closed at the memory of the starbursts under her eyelids, oh fuck, oh fucking god, god this is going to--this is--

Duncan’s hand came up to Kenzie’s throat as he felt the burning hot spurt of his come release into her ass, and he was groaning a wordless entreaty for her into her ear and her cheek, felt it continue on and on for what felt like an eternity, and for awhile he lost himself in her, lost himself entirely to their surroundings, and could only feel her, could only feel the flushed heat of her skin, the silky fall of her dress, could only smell the rose of her, could only hear her little moaning, aching sounds, could only imagine her, could only remember her, as if all other realities had ceased and they were drifting in darkness. He was gasping into her, clutching her, feeling as though he were on the verge of sobbing, on the edge of bursting into tears so earnest and true that perhaps, if he did, they would never cease, only continue on until he was utterly empty of tears.

“Shhh, it’s okay, baby, you’re okay, fuck, baby, oh my fucking god,” Kenzie was murmuring as he brought her back down to earth, still holding her against him, his cock sliding out of her--he saw there was a little blood along the topside of his length, and he moaned into her, still holding her dress gathered in his hand, examining her backside, wincing in concern--Kenzie’s ass was deeply pink, her asshole red with worry. “Fuck, baby, are you okay? Fuck, did I hurt you?”

“I’m fine, it’s okay, baby,” Kenzie was leaning over the vanity, gripping a tissue, bending her arm back to press it against her ass--she brought the tissue around to gaze at it, frowning a little at the blood. “It’s okay, it’s just a little, I think it’s just chafing, god, you were so fucking hard--” with this Kenzie groaned a little, a laugh intercepting it, and she wiggled her ass at him, grinning in post-orgasmic glee. “Fuck, Duncan, I loved that. You felt so fucking good, baby, I love your thick cock fucking my ass so hard, god, being so bossy with me, I feel so fucking good now--”

Duncan gripped at her hips, his mouth coming down her cheek, lips open, and closed his eyes against her, letting his eyelashes brush on her skin--Kenzie sighed, her knees dipping her down.

“God, Kenzie, I’d been holding that orgasm for what felt like a year, fuck, you made me come so hard, angel.” He stepped back from her, gently letting go of her dress, letting it fall down her backside, covering the rawness he’d left there, thinking of his come now deep inside her--he glanced to the floor where he’d discarded the plug, then leaned and picked it up, gripping the jeweled end in his hand. Kenzie turned to him, raising her eyebrows, all residue of her tears now gone. Her face was glowing, radiant--it seemed to be cast in a golden sheen, though he could see hints of tiredness around her eyes.

“Come here, baby,” she whispered, and grasped his empty hand, leading him to the sink, turning on the faucet and running it until it was hot, lathering soap on her hands from a dispenser there, then gently pulling him closer to the edge, dipping her hands along his length. Duncan shivered, moaned with the terrible sensitivity prickling there now as she washed him gently, the ring still pushed at the base of him, his cock still partially stiff with its pressure. Duncan brought his hands down to brush against hers in the stream, rinsing her plug under the hot water, and she was lathering soap along its bulbous head too, cleaning it carefully--he turned his head to gaze at her as he touched her, as her fingers fell against his, and the loveliness of her smile as she glanced at him made him want to weep again. Duncan pulled his hands away, reluctantly, grasped a mauve-colored hand towel hanging nearby, drying his hands--Kenzie shut the water off and he passed the towel to her gently, dipping it around her plug and her hands, then she pressed the plug into his palm and took the towel, dipping her head down, bringing her fingers against the base of his cock.

“I’m going to take the ring off now, baby, okay?”

“Okay, baby.” He stood very still, lost in the golden shift of her gaze. My Persephone. Queen of roses. Too beautiful for words. Kenzie’s little fingers gripped the silicone carefully, firmly--then she pulled gently at it, and Duncan bit his lip, staving off his cry at the intensity of her touch as she slid the ring off him, finally releasing his cock from the immense pressure of it. He breathed out carefully through his mouth, then waited, hopefully, for Kenzie to do what he was thinking towards her--she smiled at him, straightening, then grasped his softening cock, dipping it back into his tight briefs, then zipping and buttoning his pants, tucking his collared shirt carefully back in place.

“There, my Prince,” she whispered. “Like nothing ever happened. None of them will ever know. Our secret to keep. Just for us.”

The golden light was all around her, the shimmer of her dress seeming to draw it in; her tawny-gold hair fell around her cheeks, barely a residue of sweat there to show the ecstasy he knew she had felt; for he’d been inside her, inside her thoughts, had felt the immensity of her release, as he knew he could now. Duncan’s fingers ran over the protruding head of the plug, carefully, hesitating, still longing for her in ways he couldn’t name.

“Kenzie, can I--can I put this back inside you, baby? I want to--I want to keep my come inside you for awhile. I want to keep our secret for awhile…” He could feel his cheeks flushing, feel the neediness in his voice, but she was smiling again, her cheeks flushing too, an obvious delight in her eyes now.

“That’s fucking sexy, baby. Yes, Prince Duncan,” and she was stepping flush against him, her mouth opening towards his face, his body bursting into deep, coursing flames from the look in her eyes. “Put it back inside me.”

Kenzie turned to look into the little mirror over the sink, gripping the edge of it, gazing at him expectantly. Do it, and let’s go back to this party. I’ll have your come held there inside me the whole time. You fucked me hard and we both came so hard and our ecstasy will bleed into the night, love--I’m yours, Duncan, my body is yours as my soul is. Just a little longer, then we can sleep in each other’s arms all night, and when the day comes, we’ll go off to the woods together to be alone and learn more of each other’s secrets. We’ll fuck under the stars, under the trees, in the long grass, among the flowers.

Duncan lowered his arm, gripping at the train and the flowing skirt of her gown, gathering them once more in his fingers, pressing them together in his fist, exposing her backside again--he whimpered at the redness still there, but there was no more blood. It must have just been chafing, like you said, baby, let me know if this hurts you and I’ll stop. Kenzie shook her head, urging him on. I’m fine, baby, put it inside me where it belongs. Duncan could see a vague residue around the pucker of her asshole, the cloudy white of his come dripping out of her--with a twinge of need he thought no, that stays inside her, I want it inside her, and he brought the plug up to the dampness gathering there, holding the gathers of her dress steady in his grip, and then he pushed it back inside her--Kenzie gasped a little, gripping the sink, but was nodding--”yes, Dunny, yes,” and then it was back inside her, the jewel winking up at him, and he let go of her skirts, leaned down to where he panties had been discarded and kneeled to her.

Kenzie turned to him, bringing her hands down to his shoulders, and he pushed the skirts aside, exposing her golden platform heels--Kenzie held onto him as she stepped into her panties and Duncan pulled them up her slender calves and curvy, feminine thighs under the dress, pressing his chin into her stomach as he fixed the waistband on her hips. There. All done. He lingered there for a moment, staring up at her--her hands came to his cheek, fingers drifting at his stubble, and into his hair, her touch infinitely gentle, and her smile was serene, utterly contented. In its cocoon he knew he was loved--loved with such intensely earnest, complete love that he felt tears seeping back into the corners of his eyes.

“I’m ready to go back, baby,” Kenzie said, and he stood, nodding, dipping his fingers at his eyes, wiping the threat of tears away. She leaned up to kiss him; he brought his face down to her, his hand twining around her fingers, imagining the golden-blue thread he’d seen as he ran to where he saw the golden sphere that was her, his lips shivering against her. “Kenzie, I love you,” he whispered. Kenzie didn’t speak, and she didn’t need to--he knew what she was saying in her mind, in the golden bursts around her heart, the radiance in her eyes, the roses in her hair. And I love you. Now, long ago, and forever.

Kenzie went to the sink where they’d left his silicone ring, grasping it and placing it inside her golden clutch, snapping the opening closed. As they walked out of the bathroom, Duncan glanced back at it, at its glow of light now diminished by her absence--just a regular bathroom now, he thought. The golden glow was all her. Everything is her. He flipped the light switch, bathing the powder room in darkness, and Kenzie was the one who pulled him back to the Gala, through the room that was once his playroom, the gold and diamond of the bracelets at their wrists glinting, their hands tightly clasped in the shadows.

------

A few minutes later Kenzie was ordering a glass of chardonnay from the bartender near the tables Duncan had glimpsed earlier, drinking it in one fell swoop that made Duncan laugh, and immediately asking for another. The bartender, a tall, handsome man with henna-colored skin in a saffron-yellow Oxford shirt and a silk gold tie, had raised his eyebrows at her and poured her another, this one full to the brim.

“Duckenzie forever,” he said, and pushed it toward her, his smile shy. Duncan and Kenzie had looked at each other in disbelief, both laughing a little. “Seriously, though, you two are like--you are glowing,” the bartender continued. “Thanks for coming over here. I can’t drink tonight, but now I feel drunk. Love your Instagrams.” Duncan had ordered an old-fashioned (like that first night, Kenzie had thought, and Kenzie had smiled at him), and Kenzie had thanked the man sweetly, her cheeks flushed with the wine now. Duncan slipped a $100 bill into his tip jar. God, I feel so good now, he thought. Time to spread that around. They’d run into Erik and Momby, sitting together on a low couch in a side-parlor, laughing with each other in uproarious delight, Momby telling him a story about a time she’d fallen into a pool with a full tray of tropical cocktails during a brief waitressing stint in the Bahamas in her early 20’s. Madeline had gripped Kenzie’s hand, looking into her face as Kenzie settled down onto the armrest beside her mother--when she saw the serene happiness there, she nodded and let go. Whatever had happened before, all was right now. Madeline had looked into Duncan’s eyes, and he’d nodded to her, smiling.

“That smile,” Momby had tsked, and Erik dipped his chin into a perfectly-manicured hand, looking on at all of them, grinning, his eyes now hazy with drunkenness. “With that smile you could stab me in the heart and I’d thank you.”

Kenzie’s gaze had dipped above them, her eyes intent on yet another mural printed for the Gala along the white wall behind them. ”I’ve never seen this one before,” Kenzie murmured, reaching for Duncan’s hand, pulling him close. My pretty baby. My Kenzie. “What’s it called?” The painting depicted on the laser-printed mural was a golden-haired maiden, completely naked, her back turned down, the angle from heaven above, riding on a midnight-blue stallion with huge wings--below them were scattered clouds of night and a landscape spread with some ancient monument. “It’s so lovely.”

“It’s called Dream Idyll,” Duncan murmured to her, his eyes on her face. He could feel Madeline and Erik watching them. “It’s by Edward Robert Hughes. It looks like you.” Kenzie snorted at him. “Yep, there’s me, in my birthday suit. I do wish I had a flying horse, though.”

“You’ll have horses soon enough, Princess Kenzie.”

“Oh, she will, will she?” Madeline smiled at him, intrigued.

Duncan and Kenzie looked at each other. Momby knows about you taking over the company, but I don’t think Erik knows, does he? Kenzie thought to him. Duncan shook his head.

“It’s a secret, is it?” Erik cooed, taking a sip of the vodka tonic in his hand.

“For now, yeah, I think so,” Duncan replied. “We’re still figuring it out.”

“I’m sure you two have lots of secrets you haven’t told anyone,” Erik went on, batting his long rhinestoned eyelashes. “I’m sure you have delicious, delightful secrets. Just look at you. A darkly handsome prince and a radiant golden princess. Duncan, you’ve opened like a flower now that you have this angel in your life. I just adore you two. You’re like two stars that fell out of the sky. I’d claw someone’s eyes out to hear what it’s like in the bedroom.”

Duncan rolled his eyes at the last bit, but saw Kenzie smile into her hand. Madeline was laughing into her glass of red wine, her snort causing a film of bubbles on its surface. Like mother, like daughter.

“Baby, let’s get some air,” he murmured down into Kenzie’s ear, and she let him help her up, left her train to fan out behind her. He waved a little to Madeline and Erik. “We’ll see you later on, maybe?”

“I think I’m getting all partied out,” Madeline replied. “I’m a crusty old witch and I’ve successfully managed to avoid Annette tonight. I’d like to keep it that way. Duncan, can I enlist your help to get that wonderful man to drive me home?”

“Of course, Madeline,” Duncan pulled his phone out of his pocket as Kenzie’s hand clutched around the crook of his arm, her head resting against the velvet arm of his blazer. He sent a text out to Samuel; Samuel, as usual, replied almost immediately. The best. “He says he’ll be waiting on the curb in two minutes, Ms. Stone.”

Madeline crowed, delighted, drinking off the rest of her wine. “Erik, darling, wanna come kick it at my house like two broken down old hags?”

“Speak for yourself, honey,” Erik replied, but he was smiling. “However--I’d love to. Annette’s usual gang of social frou-frous, alas, leaves me dry as a bone these days. Let’s break out the tequila and talk about old flings all night. My darling angelic moon babies in love--adieu.” Erik extended a hand towards Duncan and Kenzie, and Kenzie’s radiant smile to him lit a fire under Duncan’s heart. Your crown of flowers on our wedding day, a crown for the goddess of spring, he thought, his mind drifting. I wonder what your dress will look like. It doesn’t matter what you wear, though. You always look like a fucking angel. Kenzie was turning back to kiss her mother’s cheek--Duncan went to Madeline too, and kissed the opposite one. Madeline laughed, pursing her lips and looking heavenward.

“I do believe, my dear Madeline, that it doesn’t get much better than that,” Erik raised his drink to them with finality.

“Did you know Duncan wants to commission a painting of us, Momby,” Kenzie was murmuring down her to her mother, her face bathed in the low mood lights of the room, the blue cast of the mural above her reflecting on her gold-rose hair as Duncan watched her. “How romantic is that?”

“My dearest Mackenzie,” her mother clasped her hand, stared at her over the rim of her squarish black-rimmed glasses. “You suddenly find yourself immersed in a fairy tale, and my advice to you is, enjoy every moment of it. Bask in it. Drink it down like it’s wine.”

“Kenzie and I going away for a few days, Madeline,” Duncan said, eyeing Madeline, watching for disapproval warily. “We have a cabin by a lake in rural Maryland--we’re trying to keep the trip discreet. We’ll have our phones, but...we’d like to go off the grid for a few days, so we won’t be checking them regularly. I need to get away from Annette for a few days--”

“We both do,” Kenzie murmured. “Momby, we need to get away from...everything.”

“I understand, Kenzie Lou.” Madeline’s face was serious, but calm, sobering up for them. “You don’t need to explain. Just call me when you get back, okay? We can invite Claire and make tacos and margaritas. You too, baby,” Madeline said, turning to Erik, who fluttered his eyelashes at her.

“Thank you, Madeline.” Duncan’s heart felt tight again, words insufficient for his gratitude.

“Duncan. Don’t forget what I said to you last night, sweetpea. I love you very much, and your worth is not in your name, nor with your wealth, but what you do with it. I’ll see you soon.” Madeline’s hand came up against his cheek, and Duncan’s heart clenched. Kenzie, you were blessed with the most wonderful of mothers. It’s no wonder you are so divine. Demeter, who went to Zeus himself to have her daughter Persephone back--who made the earth barren with her loss. A mother who would do anything for her daughter--like Madeline Stone. What a fucking woman.

Kenzie kissed her mother’s cheek again, whispered “I love you to the moon and back, Momby,” and rose with Duncan, blowing kisses behind her to both Madeline and Erik. Divine, Duncan thought, her hand in the crook of his arm. Divine kisses, floating across the room like shooting stars.

------

Ten minutes later they were on the south side of the house, on the back-facing patio balcony of Annette Shepherd’s Colonial mansion. There were serving people dressed as various Pre-Raphaelite muses passing around hors d'oeuvres here (the Lady of Shalott walked up to them in long white robes and an auburn wig, holding a tray of mushroom tartlets which she held out to them--she blushed, clearly recognizing them, and Duncan thanked her, taking two and handing one to Kenzie, who ate it in one bite as she smiled at the woman--who then drifted away from them with some reluctance), and there were scores of guests in the balmy night air, milling around with drinks, winding down from the speeches for the Foundation--we were fucking in the bathroom during that, Duncan thought, relieved. I’m sure Annette tried to find me, and thankfully, she failed.

Neither Annette nor Bill were anywhere to be seen here, either. Or Marissa Montague. Or Gretchen Friedrichs. It’s like the night calmed for us, like the moon (still hovering above them, a white peach of delectable enchantment) ushered them all away--like it’s looking after us, my Kenzie and me. Down a set of marble steps was a decorative walking garden with stone pathways surrounded by creeping thyme and irish moss, with a four-tier fountain in the center, in tandem with Annette’s modern sensibilities. Some of the guests (most of which Duncan recognized--a veritable who’s-who of politicians and notables from every artistic field he could think of) seemed to notice them, but somehow no one approached them--Duncan doubted it was shyness. It seemed to be something else, almost like a force-field around them, protecting them from too much attention. Whatever. I’ll take it. As long as people leave us alone.

Along the sides of the French doors that had led them outside were two more huge murals, covering the windows on this side of the mansion, each one with the Shepherd Unlimited logo along the top and the same Gala text as the banners at the entrance--on one side was Robert-Hughes’ wistful Day, a circle of flowers in her red hair, and on the other, his more serene Night, sometimes called Star of Heaven--her hair full of starbursts, like flares of blue and white flame. Kenzie had turned, taking little sips of chardonnay, to gaze up at them, and he saw the adoring admiration in her eyes. He stared at her, drifting a hand against the wall, leaning there, caught up in her--golden princess from the stars. Protecting me, healing me, healing others. Who knows what else she can do. I feel acutely that we’re just beginning to find out what she’s capable of...and what I’m capable of, for that matter. He thought of the plug still inside her, holding his release there, and shivered. Mine. My golden angel.

Eventually, Kenzie noticed him staring.

“Don’t tell me, they look like me,” she rolled her eyes at him, making a face, and he laughed a little, sipping his bourbon. Bourbon will always remind me of the first night--though I’ll never forget it anyway. He leaned back on the Day mural, his head beginning to feel hazy--he’d barely had any of the bourbon, but he felt weak with his post-orgasm, with the stresses of this damn Gala--Marissa, Gretchen, Kenzie’s disappearance, the strangeness of what had happened to him near the water table. And with the stresses of yesterday--the shaking certainty in me that I was nothing and no one anymore. I don’t feel that way now; but the fear was enough to exhaust my soul. It was enough to make me long to escape with her.

He hesitated--he could tell Kenzie knew he was thinking, and she regarded him, patiently. “It looks like she’s whispering in your ear,” she said, twining a golden hair around her finger, the Cartier bracelet’s diamonds glittering on her wrist, the smooth incline of her leg dipping beautifully from the slit in the dress, and then Kenzie was opening her clutch and pulling her phone out, snapping a photo of him. He smiled at her, unbothered, pressing affection out towards her. She walked casually to the other wall where Star of Heaven was spread, smiling down at her phone, typing a caption on the photo, posting it. He turned toward her as the two men he’d seen smoking earlier came through the French doors--oddly, they ignored Duncan and Kenzie, as if they didn’t see them. Kenzie didn’t seem to notice, but looked up a moment later from her phone at him. Duncan moved past the doors to her, leaving his bourbon glass on a nearby cart, hands coming down to her waist, pressing her back into the mural of the serene woman with a crown of stars.

“I wish I could give you a crown of stars like that,” Duncan whispered, his eyes drifting up the mural, then back down into hers. The moon was right above them now--it stared down on him, quietly listening to them, watching them, watching over us. Moon children in love. Kenzie held her wine glass up to her lips, her eyes staring back at him mischievously over the rim, and he stepped back, lifting his own phone to steal a picture of her, her eyes drifting to the side to look at the huge face beside her. Star of heaven @kenzielouwho. He saw the one she’d posted of him come up right after it on his feed--Night breezes seem to whisper I love you @duncanshepherd.

“Kenzie,” he said, tucking his phone away. “Something happened when I went to get you the water. Something...strange. Really strange.”

Kenzie looked at him then with contemplation, and he knew deeply that she had something of her own to tell him--something she hadn’t told him before. She set her wine glass at her feet as he continued.

“I ran into Gretchen Friedrichs, and she cornered me, was trying to blackmail me--the usual with her--and I knew I needed to get to the water, and she was blocking it. I was crazy with it for a minute, with frustration, then suddenly, I was there, I was at the water table. But I hadn’t moved. I had...I dunno. I teleported to the fucking water table. Somehow. I moved--through--I don’t know. Time. Space. I moved without moving.”

“Dunny,” Kenzie said, and her voice was very small, her hands reaching up to the lapels of his jacket, pulling him close. “Yesterday, I--I could feel your sadness and your pain. I mean, I don’t mean I suspected it--I mean I felt it. I felt the depth of it. It pressed down onto me and I felt what you were feeling. It was like I was inside you. It was when I was still at work, and the feeling continued all the way home; I think it made me fall asleep, it was so strong, so powerful, like a wave, overwhelming me. I knew it was you, and I knew you were heartbroken. I felt what you were feeling from miles away. I don’t know how. But I did. And what I did tonight--”

“Kenzie, what’s happening to us? What are we?” Duncan stared down into her eyes and saw the memory of those whirling golden galaxies from his dream of her (as an angel--with imperceptible wings) and saw her own hazel eyes too, and was dizzy with the vision of both. “What do the dreams mean? When you disappeared, I was so afraid--fuck, I forgot to even try to call you or text you, I was freaking out so much, wondering where you’d gone--then I concentrated and I felt you. You were like a ball of light inside my mind. I followed the feeling of you to where you were, I imagined there was a thread between us, made of gold--and then I found you. My feet led me to the powder room, and there you were. Like you’d been calling for me and I heard your voice.”

“I--I don’t know--it’s something about us finding each other, that’s what I think, that’s what I keep coming back to,” and Kenzie’s fingers were brushing over his intricate gold collar, down his velvet arms, finding his hands, holding them against the bare skin above her structured bodice. “I think when we met it was like...a door flew open. An invisible door, one that had been shut, and when it opened, so many other things poured into us, not just each other, not just this incredible love--” and Duncan stopped her mouth with his, his need to kiss her too great, her mouth too beautiful in the moonlight, her hair too soft and rose-laden to not have his hands in it anymore, the gold of her too ethereal, and she gasped into his kiss, and he clutched her, leaning down to her exquisite, moon-like face, the dark mulberry stain of her lips all but kissed away by his ardency tonight, leaving them bruised and pink, and he crushed himself into them again, his body rocking against hers with deep fatigue and a desire to sleep with her, sleep forever under a full, benevolent moon.

“Let’s go,” he whispered between their kisses, his hands urging her against him. “Let’s go home. I’m tired, baby. I want you alone. None of this matters. Only you.” Kenzie was nodding into him, her face flooding with visible relief, and Duncan was remembering her run in with his uncle tonight--I’ve always suspected that Bill hates me, so I’m not surprised he hates anyone I care about, too. I think deep down Bill has always been suspicious that we don’t share the same goals for Shepherd Unlimited--that one day, I’d take it from him and make it into what he is fearful of. Something GOOD. Well, Bill, you’re right. Your fears were all founded. That’s exactly what I’m going to do. And I found a goddess to help me.

Duncan was gripping Kenzie’s hand and pulling her back through the mansion--Samuel had likely already left with Madeline and Erik, but he was sober enough anyway, and he knew what to do. Annette had a garage under the mansion with twenty cars--and they were going to take one of them home tonight, then to Deep Creek Lake tomorrow. No one would be coming with them, not Samuel, not Harris, no one. The prospect sent a burst of excitement through him, pushing his fatigue away; alone with you in the beauty of nature. And I’ve been away from it for so long. You’re going to love the cabin so much, baby. Knowing you now, I feel like it was created just for you. You’ll see what I mean. It’s like its own little world.

 Duncan was clutching Kenzie’s train carefully in one hand and her fingers in the other, leading her down the hall with a pointed, swift stride, around the array of important guests who seemed to be noticing them again, judging from the long stares. Duckenzie Duckenzie Duckenzie the son of Annette Shepherd with the daughter of Madeline Stone who would ever think such a thing how absurd look how beautiful they are wow look at them look look look. Fuck, he thought, now I can hear everyone else’s thoughts, too? Or maybe just right now? Or maybe I’m imagining it? God, it’s all too much. Right now we just need to get away from all of this.

He was about to turn down a side-hall that was mostly deserted towards the center of the mansion, the one he knew led to Annette’s impressive private library, and from there a secret passage behind one of the bookcases that led to the basement garage, but he stopped, his heart slamming up against his ribs. Annette and Bill were at the end of it, conversing with Senator Howell. Fuck. No.

He glanced with alarm at Kenzie, who was balking and stepping back, her eyes slitted at Bill, who does indeed look very ill, Duncan noted, seeing his uncle’s deeply gray pallor, the thin sheen of sweat on his brow. Bill looks like he’s about to fall into his grave, in fact. Annette seemed to have noticed as well, because she was staring with deep concern at her brother, and hadn’t noticed them yet. Mom, you look so beautiful tonight, Duncan noted, his heart now in his mouth. My mother, and yet, not my mother. The soft fall of her hair in its gathers around the nape of her neck, the pearls at her throat, the glowing, pollen-patterned yellow satin dress she wore. Duncan noted the deep sadness that lingered on her face tonight--her brother is dying, and her son won’t talk to her. But mom, it’s not as simple as that, and you know it. You had to know this day would come. You had to know eventually I’d find out. How could you keep it from me for so long? It would have been easier if you’d told me long ago. But perhaps you really couldn’t bear to admit it after a certain point. Maybe it really was love that convinced you to keep it secret--or maybe it was just your own need to be loved.

And he knew when they got back from the woods, when they came home from the secluded place where they’d go to find out each other’s secrets--because he knew that would happen while they were away, I feel it, in my heart, in my soul, I know we are going to discover something about ourselves there, I know it, baby, I know it absolutely, and he knew Kenzie heard his thought--that he’d speak with Annette and Bill, and it would be wrenching for him, but that it would happen and it must happen, and only then would the future move into the present and the wheel continue to turn them to their Fate.

But not yet. Come on baby, this way. I know another way. And he and Kenzie slipped away from the line of sight of Annette and Bill Shepherd. Duncan was struck with a realization a few seconds later; he knew that Annette had looked down the hall the moment they slipped away, had thought maybe she’d seen a corner of Kenzie’s golden gown from the corner of her eye, but that when she’d turned her head, no one had been there. And Annette’s heart was full of sorrow--full of her own regret, the sting of her own faults and her mistakes. Like Kenzie feeling my sadness last night, over miles--I think I can feel how my mother feels right now. Just a little. Enough to know that her sorrow is genuine, and her remorse absolute. Oh, Mom.

They’d turned down another hall--this one seemed to be a service hall, several of the serving people in their Pre-Raphaelite costumes moving along it back and forth, some with empty trays, some with trays fresh hors d'oeuvres moving back out to the main hall. Duncan pulled Kenzie along it--several of the service people gave them puzzled looks, but said nothing; they obviously recognized him (or us: Duckenzie Duckenzie Duckenzie). Duncan Shepherd can do what he likes in his mother’s house, I guess, Duncan heard the drifting thought from a tall, handsome man with a laurel wreath in his hair and a red-russet robe over his shoulder, akin to Narcissus in Waterhouse’s painting. Duncan opened a side-door, and this led to a quiet room that seemed to be a service lounge, currently only occupied by a tired-looking woman in a white veil and a cobalt-blue period dress. She glanced up, disinterested at first, then shock fell over her face as she saw them moving through the room.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, and Duncan saw Kenzie looking at the woman with a shy smile. “Duncan Shepherd and Mackenzie Stone, oh my goooooood. Wow, wow, wow.” She sat up and her fists came up to her chin, clutching at her face as though to hold her head up. “You’re even more beautiful in person than I imagined.”

“We have to go, but thank you, sweetness,” Kenzie was whispering to her, and blew her a kiss as Duncan opened a door at the other end of the room, urging her through it gently. The girl blushed deeply, her mouth falling open, her eyes glowing at them. 

Then the door swung shut behind them and they were in Annette’s library. Blessedly, deserted. The library was tucked near the center of the mansion’s floor plan, therefore often not discovered by those who weren’t familiar with its vast layout--but Duncan had spent most of his childhood after he’d learned to read in this room, and knew it like the back of his hand. The mansion would be his someday, and Duncan knew he’d keep it for one reason and one reason alone--this room. The fixtures were all brass, the six embossed electric chandeliers with eight flower-shaped bulbs apiece flaring into low light as he flipped the panel of switches by the door, and the wood paneling was cherry-russet oak, deeply pleasant to look at, warm and comforting. There was a huge fireplace along one wall, the kind of fireplace Duncan always imagined a king would have in a great-hall, and books stretched along every wall--so many books that he knew, as he’d known as a child, gratefully, that he’d never get a chance to read them all. Too many, and so, I’ll always have a new one to discover. Kenzie was gasping quietly at his side.

“Ohhh, Dunny. This is so fucking beautiful.” There was a second floor above them, too, with gilded metal railings, and the wood floors had dark-colored Persian rugs to muffle the sound of footsteps--to preserve the ever-hallowed quiet of a library. Duncan eyed the corner where the impressive Bosendorfer Imperial sat--he knew pressing the black C sharp key would unlock the door behind the bookcase there, but he hesitated, then went to a bookcase towards the back of the shelf lining the wall to his right, pulling Kenzie gently with him.

“Come here, baby, I wanna show you something.”

He went to a familiar corner (so familiar, with its rows and rows of mythology books), eyes drifting along the shelves--then they fell on what he was looking for. Duncan pulled the book down, its hardback edges fraying from use, its familiar golden cover immediately conjuring pleasant memories of him reading alone for hours, gazing raptly at the illustrations, hiding from the world. D’aulaires’ Book of Greek Myths. On its cover was Helios, the sun, driving his white stallions in a chariot of fire. Duncan flipped the book open, Kenzie staring through the crook under his arm now where she’d slipped, sweetly and quietly, and it fell open to an illustration of Persephone in a golden field of flowers, racing into the arms of her mother.

“This one really does sort of look like me,” Kenzie whispered up to him, her eyes stirring the love up from the center of him. He pulled her closer, her little arms dipping around his waist.

“I used to look at this book for hours and hours,” he murmured, turning the pages, washes of familiarity falling over him, the pleasant memories of cold winter evenings and hot summer days, hiding here in the warmth and the cool shadows. “You can practically see the stains from my fingers on it. I didn’t have any friends, so books were my friends.”

“Let’s bring it with us,” Kenzie whispered. “I want to look at it when we’re at the cabin. I wanna touch it and feel you in its pages.”

Duncan nodded to her, closing it carefully, bringing his lips down to her temple. Kenzie turned her head and pulled him down to her, fingers running down his stubble, kissing him deeply for one long, beautiful, extended moment. I felt you, feeling Annette’s pain. Needing your own time to heal doesn’t make you a cruel person, baby. Everything in its time. He clutched her, his love for her overwhelming and all-consuming--then their kiss broke apart, and Duncan was struck again by his need to be home, alone with her.

“Over here, Kenz, watch this.” Duncan led her over to the impressive Bosendorfer, its matte black surface polished to a high sheen, pressing the black key in the center of the piano. He heard the telltale click of the bookcase directly ahead of them dipping out--it was appropriately covered in tomes of gothic literature (Poe, the Brontes, The Mysteries of Udolpho, Dracula). Kenzie gasped in delight, clutching the book against her golden breast, her mouth falling open.

“Oh my god, Duncan, that is the greatest thing ever.”

“It leads to the underground garage. We’re gonna take one of the cars home tonight. That way we can take it to the lake tomorrow, and we won’t have to worry about anyone or anything. We can stay as long as we want and come back when we feel ready.”

Kenzie pressed against him, the crown of her gold hair falling against his chin, her body sighing with approval. Duncan’s arms came around her, clutching her tight, drinking in the rosy smell of her, the soft flowery scent of her shampoo and the product Hannah had put in it--like a sunlit shoreline, he thought. At any other time in my life I’d be utterly devastated by yesterday, destroyed by it. But how can I be sad when you’re in my arms, Mackenzie Stone? To love you is to be at peace, no matter what rages around us. The world could be falling down and still I’d be calm in your embrace. Duncan felt acutely that a page was turning now--the page was this evening, this Gala, this night, its glittering superficiality, its chaos, its energy intent on disturbing their peace, their love, their happiness--but it hadn’t succeeded, it had only made him more determined than ever to cherish this wondrous love he’d found, a love that was kindling at every moment the desire in him to be better, be gentler for her, be more forgiving, more intent on loving her in every moment.

They broke apart, and Kenzie was flitting ahead of him (on her fast little feet in those golden heels), pulling carefully at the bookcase and peering behind it, glancing back at him with exuberant eyes, her mouth open in an expression of glee. There was an elevator there, waiting open with silent repose, and Duncan stepped through to it, pulling Kenzie along with him, hitting a round gold button with a plaque beside it that read GARAGE. The elevator’s doors slid shut, silently, a low-toned bell sounding, and then the elevator drifted down. When it opened a moment later, Duncan saw the familiar expanse of the private garage in quiet, clean monochrome--a security guard with a shiny black bald head sat sleepily on a swivel desk chair in a nearby booth surrounded in plexiglass, and his head came up with a jerk at the elevator’s bell.

“Mr. Shepherd, I didn’t know you needed a car tonight, they didn’t tell me--” he started, going to stand.

“It’s fine, Henry, right? Not a big deal. I let Miss Stone’s mother take my private car home, and I barely had anything to drink, so we thought we’d take ourselves home tonight.”

“Sure, Mr. Shepherd, sure. Yeah, Henry. Any particular kind of car?”

“The G-Class, I think. We’re going to use it for a few days...to do some sightseeing.”

“Oh, man, I love that car, drives like a dream. Sure thing, Mr. Shepherd.” Henry was turning to a rack of keys behind him, pulling down a smart key that was mounted on a wall-set charger there--he pushed open the sliding door of the plexiglass booth and held it out to them. Duncan took it, holding down a button on the front of the smart key, speaking into it. The pad read I’M LISTENING.

“Come to me.”

Duncan watched Kenzie’s rapt face with delight as a black SUV with sharp lines backed out of a nearby spot from a low row of other black cars of different makes and models, straightened itself, and drove towards them with slow, creeping speed.

“Holy shit,” Kenzie whispered. “The car can drive itself.”

“Well, y’all can drive it too,” Henry laughed at her, and Duncan noticed the guard’s eyes falling up and down Kenzie’s golden dress and her tawny hair, admiringly. An angel, I know.

“Thanks, Henry.”

“Sure thing, boss. Y’all have a good night. I’ll log that you’re using it.”

Duncan nodded, reaching down to Kenzie’s hand, carefully still holding her train. Keep the truth of my adoption from me for 30 years, Mom, I think I can borrow a car from you. Annette would find out later that he’d taken a car, he was sure, but he couldn’t be bothered to worry about her reaction. He led Kenzie to the passenger side of the SUV and helped in her in, lifting her up gently, tucking the train around her. Kenzie was gazing into the leather interior of the dashboard, her eyes gleaming, her fingers white around her golden clutch. Duncan ran around to the other side, anxious at the thought of Annette catching them before they had a chance to escape, but then, slipping into the driver’s seat, his heart calmed as he gripped the steering wheel and he pressed the smart key again, hearing the biturbo engine roar into life. No, he felt certain. We’ll get away without a hitch. The Fates have written it, I can feel it.

He reached across the middle of the seats, and Kenzie grasped his hand on her lap over the book she still held in safekeeping, her fingers wonderfully warm, the diamonds at her wrist glittering. The Gala’s over, she thought to him, deep relief in the golden drift of her mind. I can’t wait to share these next few days with you. I feel like the greatest secrets are about to revealed to us. And I’m not afraid, baby. With you, all my fear melts away. I can see my destiny inside your eyes.

As I see mine in yours, he thought to her, and put his foot on the gas, drifting his hand out of hers and onto the steering wheel, pulling the car around to the exit tunnel that spread out from the other end of the garage--as they climbed up to ground level, Kenzie switched on the Sirius XM radio, turning the knob to a channel called BPM. Upbeat electronic floated into the car as the neon lights of the tunnel fell over Kenzie’s cheeks in gold and blue--we get it almost every night, when that moon is big and bright, it’s a supernatural delight, everybody’s dancing in the moonlight…

Kenzie began to sway back and forth in her seat, moving to the music, shifting her shoulders and tossing her rosy hair with aching loveliness that made Duncan’s heart feel as though it would leap out of his body, his head suddenly hazy with her. Her lovely voice washed over him as she sang along, her eyes glittering on him, her thoughts in the shape of golden kisses against him as he drove into the night, the moon still high above them, huge and round like some otherworldly fruit in the clear, starry sky.

“Dancin’ in the moonlight, everybody’s feelin’ warm and bright, it’s such a fine and natural sight, everybody’s dancin’ in the moonlight…”

[thephantomofthe-internet]

Homeward Bound : Chapter 10

Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader, Billy Hargrove x Henderson!Reader

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13

Chapter Summary: It’s like the Breakfast Club! But lamer...

Word Count: 3,739

Warnings: Swearing, awkwardness, THE BABIES ARE HERE!!!

Author’s Note: Gotta keep up with Amanda, don’t I? 😉

Permanent Tag: @hotstuffhargrove @denimjacketkisses @hargrovesgoldilocks @lilmissperfectlyimperfect @hipsmcgee @thatchickvic

Series Tag: @baebee35 @moonstruckhargrove @kurt-nightcrawler @supernatural-pants @thoughstofaredhead @bby-becca @fear-the-reaper115 @estheflowergirl

You looked up with a grimace. Steve Harrington was standing over you in all his fluffy haired glory, being an absolute dick, as per usual.

“I highly disagree.” You snapped, pulling his arm off you “What the hell are you doing here anyway, what you got an APB out on me now?”

Steve’s demeanour deflated instantly, stepping back, hands finding their way into his front pockets, shoulders hunching slightly. “It’s the last day of school, somebody has to do the annual ‘threaten kids into not being assholes’ speech.” He explained.

“They still do that?” you asked, letting your guard down just for a second.

“Unfortunately, and apparently it’s a rite of passage to do the speech. Which means this year I got spit balls shot at me and paper balls lobed at my head by snot nose kids.” He replied.

“Oh the irony, you used to do that all through high school, especially when it was Callahan doing the talking.” Nancy said, knocking her shoulder into his. Steve smiled, pulling her into a tight hug.

“Hey, Steve.” She said softly into his shoulder. They both looked highly emotional, a strange sight for you. You remembered when she couldn’t stand being in a room with him and he was still just trying to prove that he wasn’t still in love with her, to no avail. And while that went away with time, they never seemed exactly close.

“I didn’t know you were coming in today, I thought it was tomorrow.” He replied, pushing her back slightly by the shoulders, looking her over “How’s Sybs?”

“Good, thank you again for the gift for her, you’re two months early, but she looks adorable in the bunny suit and it’s the only thing she’ll stay asleep in now.” Nancy replied with a smile.

“Good, I’m glad.” He replied. “Your mother must love the attention and the full house again, how’s she getting along with Jonathan? Or did he end up staying back?”

“Jonathan is visiting with his mom; he’ll come down with them later in the week.” She replied easily.

“They still hate each other?” you asked, popping a stick of white chewing gum into your mouth, grinning cheekily at her.

Steve rolled his eyes “You’re just gonna ask that like it isn’t rude, huh? He asked disappointedly “’Cause you know, it doesn’t really matter anymore. They’re married and Karen’s just gonna to deal. Besides, they can’t be that petty as to-”

“They absolutely hate each other. Jonathan wouldn’t come down with me to stay with her; he’s still trying to find a way to not have to stay with her when he gets here.” Nancy replied breezily with a shrug.

“Ha! I knew it!” you cried, grinning like a fool.

“You always gotta be right, Y/N?” Steve asked. You turned to look at him, ready to retort with sass and anger. But he wasn’t cocky or annoyed, he was trying to hold back a grin; his eyes shining with mirth. Nothing about him was confrontational and the need to fight back drained from your body.

“When you’re around, Harrington, I’m always right.” You replied, a small smirk slipping onto your lips. And looking at you, relaxed and bright and joking again, Steve felt his whole body warm and glow. He didn’t release how cold and uncomfortable he was until you smiled; your body language could change his whole disposition and your smile could light up a whole room.

“So wait what are we doing here? Just wandering? ‘Cause I have no one here I need to see, except Mike but I’m not gonna pull him out of class, you know?” Nancy asked.

“Well, I’m hiding from Hargrove. I can’t get caught by him without Dustin or else I’ll get dragged into his truck.” You replied.

“He’s following you around?” Steve asked, tone hostile and worrisome, his whole body lifting to appear more physically opposing.

“No more than you are.” You replied, watching him deflate like a popped balloon. “He just saw me outside the school and decided that he had the time to try to get me in his truck. Probably not something he should be doing while on the clock.”

“He’s definitely got the time, since he’s on probation.” he replied. You cocked your brow, utterly lost, expecting clarification. “Powell caught him driving around drunk a couple months ago, Mr. Sherman put him on probation since it was in the truck. Powell never booked him on it because, according to him, the lost wages should be more than enough punishment. He’s got another week of forced time off before he’s back in.” Steve explained.

Nancy furrowed her brow “Why not just fire him then?” she asked.

“We’re short on mechanics. Usually we get a couple kids from the trade school Milton, but they opened a new shop in Carmel and so we didn’t get many kids up here. Mr. Sherman’s short a man and without Billy, he’ll be down to just him and George Burns.” Steve replied.

You hummed “Billy didn’t mention that…” you said, not really to them but more to yourself.

Billy was never the most honest guy on the block, but he owned up to his fuck ups fairly quickly, usually without being pressed or even asked. He owned up to still not getting along with Max and Susan, his dislike still very apparent. He owned up to not going home in part because he was scared. Hell, he owned up to supposedly still being in love with you! But this, this almost expected thing was hidden from you. You wondered what else he was hiding.

“I don’t know, I mean its Hargrove, he’s not much of a talker.” Nancy said reasonably, smiling sympathetically at you.

“Besides, he probably didn’t want to be doing much talker. Or have the time, I should say.” Steve said, his tone forcefully light and more than a little bitter.

Nancy gasped “You told him?!?” she cried, earning an awkward chuckle from Steve and an eye roll from you.

“He picked me up this morning. I had to tell someone or else I would explode from shame, embarrassment, and the giddiness of a secret.” You replied.

“He picked you up?” Nancy asked “And you didn’t tell me?”

“What exactly is there to tell, Nance? He picked me up, we had breakfast, and then he drove me home. Not exactly rocket science.” You replied, watching her carefully.

“Right, right of course…” she said, nodding quickly, her mind obviously running through a million scenarios. “So…how’d it go? You have fun?” she asked, a little twitchy and excited, far too excited for the subject at hand.

“It was fine. Like I said nothing major, right Steve?” you said, making Nancy jump. She’d forgotten he was there. Steve muffled a laugh, watching her curiously.

“Yeah,” he said, a tiny giggle popping out at the end of the word, forcing him to swallow his giggles, finding a stern face. “Yeah, fine. Are you alright, Nance, you’re really jumpy.”

“Fucking hormones man…I have the memory and foresight of a fucking goldfish…” she  muttered, shaking her head wearily.

You giggled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders “Ah, Mrs. Nancy Byers-Wheeler, you are too fun to bug. Truly, you should be pregnant all the time, it makes it more fun for me. I get to be the smart one.” You said.

“I am still the smarter of the two of us, even with a baby stealing my brain cells.” Nancy frowned, annoyance evident in the heavy line creasing the centre of her forehead.

“I know, my dearest darling, I know.” You replied, making her smile again and sharing it with her.

“Hey! What the hell are you doing?” Steve called at a flock of teenagers in the hall a few feet away. You almost didn’t recognize them.

Max, Lucas, Mike, Dustin, and a girl you could only label as Marcy were all ahead of you, loitering around as the girl you’d labelled Marcy scratched something into the wall.

Mike, significantly taller but somehow not the tallest of the group, turned to find the sound and, without registering the whole of your little band, turned back to his friends and yelled “Scatter!”

You stepped forward, holding Steve back as you replied “Chill, Wheeler, nobody’s gonna tell on you.” Max turned back to look at you, roll her eyes as she grabbed Mike by the back of the shirt collar.

“Chill, dipshit, it’s just Steve and…is that you, Henderson? Jesus you turned into a hippie.” She said, earning a collective sigh from the group.

I haven’t had time to cut it, been busy.” You replied, walking over to the group to muffle her red hair, chopped almost completely off into a red pixie cut, mirroring Mia Farrow from Rosemary’s Baby. “Ugh, don’t mess with it, it took morning to get it to look this good.” She moaned, pushing your hand

“And it still looks like shit.” Lucas joked. Overall, he’d changed the most. While Mike had gotten taller, he still looked a little like an elf and was still too pale, and Max was still freckled and tiny, boyish save for her well done makeup, clearly a way to remind the world that she was still in fact a girl. Lucas was the most mature looking-the tallest of the group and the strongest. Dustin had said he’d taken up the helm of being the group’s sports star, captaining the basketball team in Steve’s place. His hair was still cropped short and his smile was still kind, but awkward. Underneath it all, he still seemed to be the little, awkward, logical boy you’d left in Hawkins with bad clothes and a worse relationship with his little sister, now a eighth grader.

“That’s not what you said earlier.” Max replied, eyeing him up. You cringed at their little routine, still virgining in their attempts at adulthood.

Mike was looking at you all, gobsmacked to see everyone all at once. “Nancy?” he asked, finding his sister in the group. “Jesus Christ what’re you doing here? Mom’s gonna kill you and the baby.”

“Language, Mike! Sybil is picking up on words now!” she cried.

“She’s not here now, is she?” he shot back and the two fell into a stream of bickering.

“Yeah well…it looked better then…” Lucas tried, awkward and strained.

“Y/N! What’re you doing here?” Dustin asked, pushing his way to the front of the group, clearly embarrassed.

“We were bored, decided to loiter inside the school instead of outside.” You replied with a shrug.

“And you are?” a female voice asked, high and tight. The supposed Marcy had stepped forward, hands on her hips and chest stuck out. If you were her age, this would turn into a girl fight, forcing strained seduction and quick backhanded acts of kindness.

“Hey, I’m Y/N,” you said, sticking out a hand for her to shake, which she looked at with a scowl. “I’m Dustin’s older sister.” You added. Quickly, her demeanour changed; she deflated, looking away with a sort of embarrassed inward cringe, shaking her head.

She huffed out a sigh, taking your hand and shaking it weakly “Hi…I’m Marcy, Dustin’s friend.” She said.

“I thought as much, I’ve heard a lot about you.” You replied with an easy smile, trying to urge her on. She looked uncomfortable, feigning toughness in dark clothes and a scowl painted dark purple, emphasizing the thickness of her lips. It all looked like what your mother would call an attempt to muffle your beauty, a form of dazzle camouflage that was meant to distract and scare away, not invite in. You understood her, you were her when you were her age.

“Really?” she asked, a small smile pulling at the corners of her pursed mouth, trying in vain not to smile.

“Yeah, you pop up in more letters than anyone else, well maybe anyone except Steve over here, he takes first place.” You replied, watching both Steve and Dustin cower away, watching you horrified and nervous.

“Y/N, that’s enough.” Dustin said, eyes flicking between you and Marcy, too nervous to look at either of you fully. You tried to sympathize; you didn’t want to be like your mother and embarrass him, but if it’s that easy to embarrass him then you didn’t know how to really communicate with this poor girl.

“That’s cool.” Marcy announced, the evidence of a smile on her eyes and cheeks, her mouth still holding firm despite the lilt in her voice.

“So, what does he say about me?” Steve asked nervously, shifting his weight between feet. Dustin looked at him curiously and a silent look was exchanged; Dustin confused and Steve trying to seem calm as his mind raced with possibilities.

“I mean…nothing major, he mostly just mentions you every time he talks about friends or hanging out.” You replied with a shrug, not registering his tense body language he was displaying.

“Really? Nothing else?” he asked, eyes darting around the hall.

“Not really, I mean, I didn’t even know you were a cop, remember? He’s not great with details.” You replied, watching him curiously. Steve seemed to be calming down, though his nerves were still ragged and raw and now very obvious to you. “You know, if this questioning is going to continue, I’m going to need a lawyer.” You said with a smile, nudging his shoulder. He smiled, though the twitchy energy wasn’t fading.

“Guys,” Marcy called, having gone back to examine her work, her scratchy letters spelling out ‘fuck school’ surely to be cover by paint or simply more scratches before the beginning of the school year. “I gotta get going, Andy’s gonna be here soon, I’ll catch you around, yeah?”

“Yeah, you still looking for a job in town?” Dustin asked, picking up her bag off the floor.

“Got an interview at Darlene’s Dress Shop at the mall, if all goes to plan I won’t be looking by Monday!” She replied, running down the hall without another word. Max rolled her eyes, sending her a half hearted wave.

“Bye Marce…” She muttered, a scowl making lines around her mouth. Lucas rubbed her shoulder gently, shaking his head.

“She’s not worth it, M&M…” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Guys! She had our hall passes! We gotta go!” Mike cried, trying to run off again, only to be grabbed by Nancy, forcing him back.

“It’s the last day of school, exams start Wednesday. Relax, you won’t get detention.” Nancy said softly. Mike nodded, his breathing shaky. Mike seemed to have gotten the worst of the anxiety, or at least the most obvious. Dustin had mentioned he’d turned into a bit of a square but you didn’t see it. He just seemed stressed out, a nervous twinge to his movement, a dart in his eyes. Hawkins obviously wasn’t helping him.

“And besides, if they even tried we’d come and break you out. They can’t hold you here, you’re graduating in a week!” Dustin added, wrapping a careful arm around the lanky boy’s shoulders, squeezing him too tight.

“That’s not encouraging, dude.” Mike replied, his face scrunching from the uncomfortable squeeze, pushing away.

“Well, how about then we get out of here? Can’t get detention if you aren’t in the building.” You offered.

“Yes, you can. We tried that, they just call home.” Mike retorted, crossing his skinny arms over his chest.

“Anybody else?” You asked, turning your attention to the others, already grabbing their bags off the floor. They nodded, heading down the hall. You motioned for Steve and Nancy to follow them, leaving Mike behind.

“Aw Jesus Christ wait up you assholes!” Mike cried, running to catch up with the rest of you. As it turns out, peer pressure and a bit of motherly coaxing still worked on him. You restrained yourself from laughing at him, his shaggy hair bouncing with every bound.

“Where are we even going?” He whined, eyes darting around for some mythical hall monitor or camera waiting to catch him.

“Well, I only have one request for you all, and then you can go wherever you want.” You replied with a shrug.

“We’re going to Scoops after this, its tradition, dumbass.” Max added, brushing her bangs off her face and holding out her palm to you, silently asking for gum. You complied easily, digging around in your purse for the pack and a pen as you found your way back into the front hall and in front of that mural.

You pulled the visitor pass from your pocket and handed it to Steve, motioning for Nancy to do the same. “Go and return these for us and keep Rhonda busy for a minute, okay?” you asked.

“What, why?” he countered, taking the polyester lanyards.

“Because I’m about to get the kids to commit a minor criminal offence and you’re a cop. So go away. You heard nothing.” You replied, pushing him towards the office door. Steve complied, heading into the office like a child forced to say hello to their kissy aunt.

“Alright,” you announced with a clap of your hands “Before you leave this place forever, I think it’s important to leave behind a legacy. Yearbooks get forgotten, photos get switched out, but with a single act of defiance we can leave a message that might last a bit longer.” You pulled the small card from the mess of school spirit themed messages.

“This has been up since I graduated, they never change this board and so you’re message will last as long as the board does.” You explained, showing them the card, the back of which gave the old guidance counsellor’s information for parent use, handed to you with a worried expression that same day.

You wrote the message out of defiance and anger.

Mrs. Donaldson had declared that you should return to high school for a year, do the victory lap to make you truly ready for college life. The idea that you weren’t ready made your blood boil; you were ready as you could ever be. She didn’t understand-after what you’d seen you could handle anything.

“I just think, after the year you’ve had, you deserve a redo.” She said, folding her hands neatly in the centre of the desk, her giant square rimmed glasses slipping down her nose.

“Do I have the marks for college?” you asked boredly, eyeing the teen psychology posters lining the walls with a grimace.

“Well yes, but after Heather’s-” she began, watching anxiously as your bored expression switched into an angry one. She silently braced herself for the explosion.

“What the hell does Heather have to do with me going to college?” you snapped.

“I just think that after Heather’s death you-” Mrs. Donaldson tried, but the cause was lost and you were already on your feet, throwing your half-empty bag on your shoulder, forcing the chair back up to the desk.

“I think Heather’s death has nothing to do with my success and that you trying to use it to keep me here is bullshit. I know who you’re working for and I know that all of this is some sort of scheme to get me. I’m going to college and that’s final.” You snapped.

Mrs, Donaldson sighed, pulling off her glasses and rubbing the bridge of her nose “Just take the card, Y/N.” she said, sliding the neatly printing card across the desk. And, for some reason, you took it.

You had planned to just throw it out and move on with your life. But as you sat on one of the cool metal benches outside the office, an idea slowly revealed itself.

You only had one pen on you, the purple gel pen that always left huge ink blots on everything, but you had to try. The message was clear in your head and came out easily, the pen never splotching. In that brief moment, you believed in fate and magic. It was probably just chance, but you were in the position to believe in such things because the world around you had changed so much that believing in something like fate or luck made as much sense as everything else happening around you.

You let your eyes flick to the head secretary, who was thankfully preoccupied with a magazine and carton of chocolates. You stood from the bench, trying to move as casually as you could over to the bulletin board, pretending to examine its worn news clippings and Polaroid’s. You chose the largest spot of white, up in the right hand corner and, snatching out a snapshot of Heather herself, replaced the photo with note.

‘Don’t let them make you forget things for their benefit. Remember pain. Remember embarrassment. Remember Heather Macpherson.’

“I think it’s only fitting that the third generation of fucked up kids leave theirs behind. Now, this has to be done carefully as to not draw attention to it, you can’t just write in on the bottom of a photo, okay? Do it together, write in on something, and leave your mark.” You told them. You made it feel like another mission, but the way they smiled and looked to one another. They huddled together and whispered wildly, just like they did as children. It would’ve been sweet if the context of all those huddles weren’t tattooed to your mind.

Mike had ripped off a piece of manila envelope and handed it to Lucas, who you assumed had the best handwriting. Dustin seemed to be the only one with a pen and Max was used as a makeshift desk. The note, when finished, was pinned up with a collection of very old yellowed photos. You herded them off and nodded to Steve, who headed out of the office, leaving Rhonda with her whole face lit up.

You remained at the board, wondering how long their note would last. Steve came up behind you, though this time it didn’t startle you this time.

“What they write?” he asked, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You pointed out the tiny note.

The Russian girl lives.

“I mean, not entirely incorrect…” Steve said, a trying smile on his face, looking for something positive to say.

“It’s stupid.” You said, laughing just a little. Steve looked at you, taking in your easy smile and relaxed posture.

“Yeah…yeah it is. Come on, before they realize you’re laughing at them.” He replied, grabbing your hand and pulling you out the door, giggling like school children.

[comickergirl]

I’ve got a pretty big soft spot for Kara’s Daring New Adventures costume, with the shorts and choker. What do you think about that one? And what are your ranking of Supergirl costumes?

I am a HUGE FAN of Kara’s look in Daring New Adventures. Definitely one of my favorite costumes.

I’ve got a few posts about various Supergirl costumes, but I don’t think I’ve ever actually ranked them! So I’ll give it a shot. XD

Okay, so here it is: Supergirl Costumes, RANKED, from the Least Favorite to HECK YEAH!*

*DISCLAIMERS BEFORE WE BEGIN: Obviously this stuff is subjective, so my list is probably going to be different that other folks’ lists, and so on and so forth. Personally, I value simple, effective designs that are both functional and…oh, what’s a good word. They’re superhero costumes. Like, sure, you could probably get the same stuff done in a Kevlar vest and cargo pants, but there isn’t really a ton of flair to be had when you go the practical route

 And bonus points if the costume reflects the character’s personality/disposition, and has a story reason for existing.

Also I don’t think I’ve got EVERY DESIGN, EVER, for any and all Karas in the multiverse, because this post is ALREADY crazy long; we need not make it longer. XD

OKAY, so now that that’s done, LET’S GO:

25. Brainwashed Apokolips Supergirl 

Proof that ‘adding pants’ won’t always solve your costume problems. 

24. Dark Supergirl

So, here’s the thing: I love the black and silver Superman costume. LOVE. IT. So it should follow that I love the Supergirl variation, right? …Well. Sometimes, a design that would otherwise be ‘just fine’ is pushed into ‘oh God, please no,’ by 1.) a terrible story surrounding said design and 2.) really weird, sexualized artwork. Such is the case with our dear friend Dark Supergirl. Which is why it sits so low on the list. (And for those curious, yes, the blue equivalent also sits down here as well, because there’s just. A lot about this era that leaves a bad taste in my mouth.) 

23. Flamebird

Another design brought low by being wrapped up with a terrible story. (I think I dislike the Kandor plot more than the Dark Supergirl plot, actually.) This feels over-designed and like it’s trying way too hard to be edgy. Less ‘edgy’ than Apokolips Girl up there, but. Close. 

22. New 52

This isn’t awful in theory but that red…er…plate? kinda ruins the whole thing. Some artists did their best to make the plate look more like the equivalent of Clark’s trunks, but at it’s worst it’s just an awkward patch that looks even more awkward from a variety of angles. (And it’s BRIGHT RED so it distracts you from the other, more effective areas of the design. NOT GREAT, BOB. NOT GREAT.)

21. Bombshells

Look this one is absolutely a personal taste thing, I’ve just never been into the pin-up aesthetic. 

20. Superman: The Animated Series

I dunno, this design just never really worked for me. It’s not bad–in fact, it’s really simple and clean, but. *shrugs* Maybe it’s just too much a departure from what I generally associate with the Superman ‘family’ of costumes. Also, the gloves always make me think of like. Loony Tunes and Mickey Mouse. (But I love the boots, guys. Those are great.) (I didn’t include her later JLU costume on this list, but know that I like it a lot.)

19. Justice League 3001

Not a huge fan of the color blocking for this look. The crest is cool, but. The shapes don’t really mesh well, IMO. 

18. 70s Hot pants

I like 50% of this costume! As we will see shortly! But that remaining 50% really kills it, man. The way the shorts/hot pants are drawn, they just end up looking like really uncomfortable underwear.

17. Cyborg Supergirl

I’m just not a mech/tech armor person. Lot of plating and circuitry…kinda starts to look too busy and you lose the cooler design elements. (But there’s a story reason for it! So it does get some points in that regard!)

16. Red Lantern

Weird color blocking/shape language strikes again! Not a fan of the knees and torso. (But! It ranks way higher than the new 52 because it makes the plate into an actual full piece of clothing. Improvement!) Mask is really cool. And the sleeves.

15. Elseworld’s Finest

Honestly it’s not a bad design. Pretty simple and slick. Mostly, it’s just kinda plain. I like the way the cape attaches to the main portion, and the boots! 

14. Crucible Academy 

A bit more streamlined that the Cyborg look. Not at all a bad design. But again. Just not into the mech armor take. 

13. DC Superhero Girls

I actually really like this? I mean, she’s adorable? But I don’t quite understand the shirt. Is it a polo? Sweater vest? A sweater vest on TOP of a polo? IDK, it’s a mystery.

12. Gotham City Garage

Belly shirt feels a little dated, but otherwise, I dig it.

11. 1984 Movie Costume

HONESTLY, FRIENDS. ALL THINGS CONSIDERED…IT’S A SMALL MIRACLE THAT THIS COSTUME LOOKS AS GOOD AS IT DOES. We’re starting to move towards my personal favorite look for Supergirl–it’s got all the right elements! But the belt’s not great, and the material–I mean it works but it’s a costume from a movie that’s three decades old. So it’s a touch dated.

10. Headband

So we’re at the point where a lot of these designs are gonna start to look similar so really I can only rank them based on nitpicky things. XD Like, I don’t love when the skirt comes to a point like that, and the way the pleating is drawn makes the skirt sort of…hang weird. (Yes I realize it’s ridiculous to talk about gravity affecting fabric in a DRAWING where neither of those things actually exist but here we are.) Overall though? The crest is nice and bold, the shape is cool, it works well with the rest of the outfit, and they are just LEANING INTO THAT HEADBAND. YOU GO, KARA. (Also heeeeeey STORY REASON FOR HEADBAND so you know what that means. BONUS POINTS.)

9. Matrix

Improves on the areas that I don’t personally dig on the Headband costume–belts and boots are GREAT. Skirt still comes to a point though. :/

8. Linda Danvers

This is why I can’t really take that Flamebird design seriously. You want your Supergirl to look edgy? DOESN’T GET EDGIER THAN FIRE WINGS, BRO.

7. Injustice 2

It’s a video game, so you’ve got SEAMS and WEIRD RANDOM DETAILS and SUPERFLUOUS DESIGN NONSENSE (see: the costume options for the metal thigh bands) but GIVEN that it’s a video game, this coulda gone so bad, bro. So credit where credit is due. XD Don’t like the gloves and bare arms, though.

6. Jamal Igle Update

They took a costume that was…causing problems, and they made it work. Really, really well. 

5. Smallville Season 11

Okay, when they advertised this comic, and Kara’s costume, I was not into it. And then I read it, and LO AND BEHOLD, IT’S G8. The color blocking is KINDA CRAZY but remarkably, when you start drawing it in action? It just. It looks good.

4. Rebirth

IT’S JUST SO CLASSIC. (So why is it not in the top three? Because of that infernal skirt point, I tell ya.)

3. Silver Age

I mean they basically NAILED IT right out the GATE man. NOICE. 

2. Daring New Adventures

The 80s fix the 50% I didn’t like in 70s look–there’s just something about adding those boots…I dunno man, it just MAKES IT WORK MUCH BETTER. I love this look. I love this era in the comics. I love Carmine Infantino’s art. LOTTA LOVE, IN THIS NUMBER 2 SPOT. 

SO WHAT’S NUMBER ONE? 

Oh come on, like you guys didn’t know. XD

1. TV Show Costume

Listen. Listen. A real human being puts this suit on–a human being subject to gravity and weather and REAL WORLD** SCENARIOS–and it’s not a train wreck. The silhouette is nice! The material is convincingly durable! There are little design elements that don’t overwhelm the overall look! The CAPE HANGS WELL AND LOOKS SO GOOD, GUYS. SO GOOD. The skirt does not come to that awkward point and the minimal pleating is well hidden by that front portion. The tights and boots help with the whole ‘flying around in a skirt’ thing by covering her legs completely, and the shirt is actually a leotard, so it’s comparable to stuff that dancers wear. 

LOOKS GOOD.

WORKS WELL.

ALIGNS NICELY WITH KARA’S CHARACTER AND PERSONALITY.

SCREAMS: SUPER! AT THE TOP OF ITS PRIMARY COLORED LUNGS.

LETS FOLKS KNOW THAT YOU CAN ABSOLUTELY KICK BUTT AND TAKE NAMES IN A SKIRT.

So yes. It wins. Forever and always. 

Honorable Mentions: Every single one of Kevin Wada and Cory J. Walker’s Supergirl designs.