#like chosing to save one or the other and seeing the consequences

[prncssguya]

on hwang in-ho/front man, seong gi-hun and their dynamic.

first, idk why people are getting so upset at other people calling gi-hun dumb, we were told that in the first season. lol being bright is not his strongest trait but he has a good heart and we love that about him. however, he is still an idealistic gullible idiot with a gambling problem. except this time his gambling addiction is backed by a sense of justice and righteousness and he no longer gambles with money, he’s gambling with people’s lives. front man asked a good question at the end of the season, “did you have fun playing the hero?” can we even call gi-hun the hero of the story anymore? he gambled with people’s lives and front man showed him the consequences of his moral heroics.

front man only agreed to help gi-hun with his revolution when he mentioned about "small sacrifices for the greater good". i think he reveled in the fact that the “good guy” was willing to allow a few innocent people to die for the greater good to stop the games, which is exactly what the entire VIP theory is to rid the world of 'trash' to improve the world. notice how gi-hun's moral code and belief also changed, from being "nobody should die" into "yeah small sacrifice is okay as long it's for the greater good" at this point, he just proved that front man's belief is actually valid. AND he gets more of his own people killed in the pointless battle with the soldiers that they had no chance of winning. now he gets to feel responsible for all those deaths and the death of his friend and for whatever additional torture they cook up in the next games (as punishment for the escape attempt).

now on hwang in-ho, i believe he was once a good man and the story he told gi-hun was the truth. but in the end he lost a kidney, lost a wife, a baby, lost his money, got fucked over by the wrong people and got into serious debt and had to play this game to help his wife and probably it was too late to save her. he might have played the games like gi-hun but saw how ruthless and greedy people are and resolved that they don't deserve help

i don’t think in-ho wants/will kill gi-hun, but he wants him to understand things from his perspective and show him that his compassion for the people in the games is foolish. you can tell the frontmen (the old man and in-ho) are extremely fond of gi hun. not only did he protect their original front man when nobody else did, he then won the games and thus their respect as he is now as rich as them. he's no longer "trash", he’s an elite like them. i think they both actually kept tabs on him after he won (i wonder if they do that for all winners? inserting them with gps chips?) because they knew he had not used his reward money and in-ho wanted gi-hun to get on the plane and be happy with his daughter

there’s one interesting aspect of the games that makes front man such a complex character. the fact that they’re operating a organ transplant trafficking network. in a way, he’s creating some good to come from a really fucked up situation. but is it really for the good of others who desperately need it, people like his wife, like his brother? or is it just a money making scheme?

either way, i don’t think there is going to be a redemption arc for in-ho, he’s too far gone. we may get to see more of his human side if he manages to see jun-ho again. the only time we’ve seen genuine emotions from him was when he shot his brother like he seemed distraught

the real cliffhanger for me, is will gi-hun stay true to his belief that people can be good, or will he be forever changed into a villain and become the next front man…? after the events of this season i don’t see how his will doesn’t shatter. he’s witnessed how humanity consistently chose money over survival, he’s lost two close friends, his mother, abandoned his daughter. he has gained nothing from wanting to stop the games and this clearly feels like an origin story for the next front man. it’s clear the front man has won this round and i think squid game will either die with 001 or continue with gi-hun as game master

another thing i find funny that i don’t see many mention is how gi-hun is like the luckiest guy in the fucking world. but i don’t think him being alive this long is plot armor, it makes sense. the games exist for the entertainment of rich sadists who have so much money they don't know what to do with it (remember what old 001 said in s1 about life being no fun for both people with no money and people with too much money). and i’d imagine killing hundreds of poor debt-ridden fools year after year gets boring. especially when said fools are desperate enough to gamble with their lives because they think they can beat the system by playing better than everyone else and surviving and getting the money.

gihun is different because he got the money, got out, and still came back. not because he's unfeeling or because he wants more money, but because he's still convinced he can beat the system.

if you're a rich bored gazillionaire, would you rather watch some randos die or would you rather watch this exceptional idiot fail again and again until he learns that his ideals are meaningless and people are inherently greedy and equality is a myth and people at the bottom of the barrel don't get to question the system?

if you're an asshole gazillionaire, you don't want someone to challenge you and just get away with it. you want to hand them 45.6 billion won and make them go away quietly, traumatized, after breaking them psychologically by making them do horrible things until they understand they're just powerless "horses". if they insist on challenging you and your system and your beliefs (money = boundless power), you teach them a lesson and show them their place in the most manipulative and cruel way possible. if gihun dies right away, that's boring. so he can't die, he needs to suffer. he needs to concede defeat.

also, i find it funny how people are comparing hwang inho and gihun dynamic to hannibal and will graham. makes sense, their whole cat and mouse game, front man hiding his true nature from gi-hun the same way hannibal does, trying to corrupt the righteous protagonist, sowing chaos, testing him and observing his behavior like a lab rat, the crazy tension and staring contests, the gaslighting and manipulation. and with the fact that they think lee byung-hun looks like mads mikkelsen. i never put the two of them together but now i can’t unsee it lol

[snobwhimsicality]

hello chat i am going to be a hater in tags for a moment (jst finished natlan act IV)

[synchodai]

HBO's Continued Insistence on Dumbing Down Westerosi Politics

So there have been countless thinkpieces already on how GOT simplified the feudalist politics of Westeros (by giving a lowborn sellsword lordship over The Reach, by having no consequences for destroying the Sept of Baelor, etc.), but I haven't seen a lot of people talking about that for House of the Dragon.

The worst being that the show presupposes that Rhaenyra is the lawful heir when the books showed there are plenty of lawful arguments why she wouldn't be.

Mind you that I've been enjoying the show a lot so far. This is just to vent out my frustration with the writers' failure to fully engage with the values and protocols of the Middle Age-inspired setting. The show seems uninterested in laws of the Realm in a story ostensibly about politics, save for when they're using it as an excuse to amplify depictions of sex and violence.

Blacks vs Greens wasn't a matter of misunderstanding of who each side thought Viserys wanted on the throne. It was the Targaryens' belief of their absolute authority clashing with the Realm's established traditions. Everyone always knew who Viserys chose as heir. In Fire and Blood, Grand Maester Orwyle said as much when he was parleying with Rhaenyra on behalf of the Greens.

Rhaenyra heard his terms in stony silence, then asked Orwyle if he remembered her father, King Viserys. "Of course, Your Grace," the maester answered. "Perhaps you can tell us who he named as his heir and successor," the queen said, her crown upon her head. "You, Your Grace," Orwyle replied. And Rhaenyra nodded and said, "With your own tongue you admit I am your lawful queen. Why do you serve my half-brother, the pretender?" Munkun tells us that Orwyle gave a long and erudite reply, citing the Andal law and the Great Council of 101. Mushroom claims he stammered and voided his bladder. Whichever is true, his answer did not satisfy Princess Rhaenyra.

(For non-F&B readers: Munkun is the Grand Maester who served Aegon III, the king who came after this civil war. Munkun's book, The Dance of the Dragons, A True Telling, is one of Fire and Blood's source texts. Mushroom is the King Landing court jester from Viserys I to Aegon III's reign. One is a source written with academic rigor but is secondhand at best. The other is a firsthand eyewitness account but is from a literal fool who will take every chance to make things more scandalous and sexual to please the crowd.)

In House of the Dragon, they replaced Orwyle with Otto and Orwyle's discussion of legal precedent with Otto handing Rhaenyra a book page from Alicent. It's quite evident here that the writers, much like Mushroom, thought a discussion on the actual laws of the Realm were negligible in this story about a succession war.

Even Alicent made no pretense that Viserys chose Rhaenyra over her children and I have no idea why the HBO writers decided to make her mistakenly think otherwise. Maybe they thought a queen regent pushing her son to take the throne over another woman made her appear unsympathetic as a character, but if anything, this only makes show!Alicent less politically savvy and more delusional than her book counterpart, fully believing an addled king's vague muttering on his deathbed was sufficient grounds to change heirs last minute.

Book!Alicent following Andal laws instead of her husband's wishes makes sense given her Andal upbringing, her devotion to the Faith of the Seven which enforces said laws, and her desire to protect her children from Rhaenyra given that Rhaenyra has shown she's not above murdering family (see: Laenor).

In the books, there was a long discussion between the former king's council on who should succeed Viserys.

Here are the arguments for Rhaenyra:

Rhaenyra was older than her brothers and had more Targaryen blood

the late king had chosen her as his successor, that he had repeatedly refused to alter the succession despite the pleadings of Queen Alicent and her greens

hundreds of lords and landed knights had done obeisance to the princess in 105 AC, and sworn solemn oaths to defend her rights.

Here are the arguments for Aegon II:

many of the lords who had sworn to defend the succession of Princess Rhaenyra were long dead [...]

Ironrod, the master of laws, cited the Great Council of 101 and the Old King’s choice of Baelon rather than Rhaenys in 92

the hallowed Andal tradition wherein the rights of a trueborn son always came before the rights of a mere daughter

Ser Otto reminded them that Rhaenyra’s husband was none other than Prince Daemon, and “we all know that one’s nature. Make no mistake, should Rhaenyra ever sit the Iron Throne, it will be Lord Flea Bottom who rules us, a king consort as cruel and unforgiving as Maegor ever was [...]”

Should the princess reign [...] Jacaerys Velaryon would rule after her. “Seven save this realm if we seat a bastard on the Iron Throne.”

Once again, the show chose to cut out this long political discussion. Instead, the council had already made up their mind and decided to stage a coup (when in their perspectives from the books, it would definitely not be a coup).

For all their marketing how two sides are equally grey, HotD is actively delegitimizing Aegon II. The strongest argument for him is how his claim follows the laws of the Realm, but the show doesn't seem to care about the laws of the Realm or the political need to maintain a more predictable/tested transfer of power.

Instead, the show focuses on Viserys's relationship with his daughter and the mysticism of the Targaryen bloodline. In doing so, they emphasize Rhaenyra's strongest arguments for succession — that she's more of a Targaryen than her half-brother and that her father prefered her.

And what for? Because in our modern-day, we don't have male-prefered inheritance and people can only imagine misogyny as the only injustice here? What about the injustice of a monarch exercising absolute control, thinking that his "superior" heritage makes him above the established laws of the native people?

This is not to say Aegon II is unquestionably the heir. But this is to say that the show removed the political nuance of why people are questioning in the first place. Precedence isn't the end-all-be-all of succession, but neither is "because daddy said so".

[synthetickitsune]

svt + who would sacrifice you to save the world vs sacrifice the world to save you A/N: i'd once again like to thank @hanniedream for driving me insane ♡

S.Coups ❧ Chooses you, over and over and over. Selfishly. So fast he doesn’t get to think about the consequences. It hurts him and it breaks him, and he’ll be the most possessive and protective of you in the aftermath. The only way he might not choose you is if you beg him not to. Maybe. But his body is already molded to only feel complete with you in his arms.

Jeonghan ❧ Chooses the world and he makes sure you understand it’s an apology to you. He will think of it as setting you free, allowing you to see more precious things that do not exist in this world. He will think of it as taking it easy - you know he gets tired quickly. Wherever you are, you will prepare a life where he can join you one day.

Joshua ❧ Chooses the world, and will spend the rest of his life mourning you, praying for your forgiveness. He wants to have hope, he wants to be glad about the choice he made. He surrounds himself with joy to feel justified in his actions. Nothing works. He retracts into the depths of his soul. Abandons his life, as if he lost any right to it after what he’s done.

Jun ❧ Chooses you. If the world came to a point where a person has to be sacrificed for it to continue, the feelings and lives of the people around them disregarded, that is no world that is right. He is angry and his fury burns doubts away, leaving only determination. A world like that is one worth abandoning. Where there’s will, there’s a way. He’ll create a kinder world.

Hoshi ❧ Chooses you, despite everything, because he can’t let go. He’ll hold onto you too tightly, so he can forget the things he sacrificed. He’ll carry enough guilt for both of you. He’s haunted by nightmares that only your heartbeat can chase away. Part of him wants to regret it, but his heart knows there never was any other possible outcome.

Wonwoo ❧ Chooses the world, because it’s the rational choice that he knows he’ll deeply regret in waves, but knows you won’t and that you will understand because you trust him like that. Everything will remind him of you, he’ll search for you sometimes, driving himself crazy trying to forget what happened. He can’t be left alone when he remembers he won’t find you.

Woozi ❧ Chooses the world, because you deserve better. He’ll live with the feeling that it’s just an excuse, even though he knows if he chose you, you’d hate yourself for it. And he’d hate himself for making you live with that guilt, in the world that is not the one you shared before. His yearning is dangerous and painful, all he can do is hope you can hear his apologies where you are.

The8 ❧ Chooses the world, because he loves it. Because he loves you, and he knows you won’t just disappear. You’ll linger around him in his heart and memories, in the wind caressing his face, in the water hugging him tight while he swims in the ocean. You’ll continue on his journey with him, and one day he’ll fill you in on the bits you missed. He will meet you again.

Mingyu ❧ Chooses the world, but cries before, during, and after going through with it. He can’t look at you, he can’t look at anyone afterwards. He believes he is a monster for being able to do that, and for believing he made the right choice. Every day he needs to find another reason to excuse what he’s done. You always told him to be strong when he was struggling - would you be proud of him for holding on?

DK ❧ Chooses the world, only because he knows that’s what you’d want. He runs away from the choice for as long as he can, just so that maybe he doesn’t need to make the choice. Was it inevitable? Or could it be avoided if you never met him? The world ended for him anyway, even as it keeps turning. It’s just as cold and empty as the universe enveloping it.

Seungkwan ❧ Chooses you. He wants to be a hero but he isn’t. He’ll apologize until the end of time for bringing this on both of you, he’ll be careful with the fragile and broken pieces of the two of you that the choice left behind, and take responsibility for his decision. He’ll make you happy. It’s never gonna be enough, but he’ll fill your world with every precious thing he can.

Vernon ❧ Chooses the world, but only because he believes he’ll meet you again soon. Every night he falls asleep thinking of the multiverse - there must be endless numbers of Vernons who chose you as you deserved, and there must be an equal number of Vernons who made the same choice as him and are hurting just as much.

Dino ❧ Chooses you, because he has a duty to fulfill and promises to keep. He couldn’t live with himself knowing he betrayed you like that. He promises to himself it will be a fresh start. You’ll do what you’ve always wanted together. The world always eventually heals itself. He promises to himself he’ll make it work if it’s the last thing he does - and he always keeps his promises.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

/ book 7 spoilers

*politely grabs you by your shoulders* UEUEUEUJQKXNkxnsnnanzndnsmsmfmdmsmdm

hello... sorry... Leona rant... the guys theorizing that Kifaji stops Leona in his dream bc deeply he'd wish for someone to stop him... i think im going to cry. i wonder if him being such a bad king in his dream has to do with his own feelings- meaning he doesn't believe he'd be a good king? Idia explained that maybe Leona purposefully chose his dream to play out in a more realistic way, which would mean having consequences and such... even if it would be painful, he still went with it...

I think you had a post about this iirc, but this rlly pushes me to further believe that what Leona craves is valid recognition— people recognizing him for who he is and what he does, not idolizing him, just valuing him genuinely. I think there in reality he craves more that than the "king" title specifically— that's why the scene where Jack says that "he's not your (the shadows) king, he's our DORM LEADER" felt so special to me, bc Jack is doing exactly that. he's valuing him for being his dorm leader, a title Leona earned for himself. I think that ultimately that'd be more valuable for him than the king title itself, since one "is born" to fulfill that goal (and the whole reason he isn't king is because he was born second, again, things out of his control—) I think that's why this dream Leona isn't satisfied w having become king, bc at the end of the day he only got there bc Falena/Cheka died here. Some people theorize he pulled Scar tactics in the dream, but regardless of that, I don't think the "nature" of the position itself would satisfy his need to be seen, to be genuinely valued. BC WHAT HE CRAVES IS NOT *JUST* TO BE KING, IT'S TO BE RESPECTED FOR THE THINGS HE ACCOMPLISHED... also more proof that if he wants to help out in his country he needs to do it alongside Falena's ideals, bc apparently the only good thing his reign brought in his dream was... no more inflation 😭😭😭 which is good (guy who lives somewhere with too much inflation), but I mean... I think I'd prefer still having nature 😭😭😭

ALSO... and the way he SACRIFICES HIMSELF for Ruggie... AND THROWS HIMSELF TO THE DARKNESS... also his confrontation w his overblot feels much more... depressing? than the others'? ☹️ And and and... The line about him deciding the place he'll live in... ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️ I'm in tears. Pls help.

and at the end he DID know he was dreaming, and he also suspected it before being 100% sure. so I guess our prediction was kind of right 😭

also UHM. THE OUTFIT??? AHHH URNWKDNFKSNSKSKKDKjfjwnnzdn sorry it's. the least important thing of what I wanted to say but he lOOKS SO PERFECT AHHH

[My full thoughts on the book 7 part 11 Leona update here!]

*is grabbed out of nowhere* 🧍‍♂️

NO BECAUSE I WAS THINKING THE EXACT SAME THING... dream!Kifaji is the only NPC/darkness in the dreams that didn't aggro and attack us 😭 In fact, he actively protects us and begs Leona to "wake up", continuously acting as the voice of reason the entire time... AND THEN SMILING AT THE END AND PRAISING "HIS KING" WHEN LEONA FINALLY FULLY WAKES UP... I feel like that definitely is not a happy coincidence. Deep down... some part of Leona's subconscious might have realized something was wrong, and maybe that manifested as Kifaji, the one person in his memories that could stand up to him. Not just because Kifaji is a stubborn old guy (although he is), not because he seems to be a competent mage, but because he must have been Leona's one and only friend and guardian growing up in the palace where the servants always shit talked him and compared him to his older brother. He raised Leona. He played with Leona. He encouraged Leona when his prince didn't believe in himself. He tried so hard to keep Leona from straying. He sees the goodness in Leona. He knows how intelligent Leona can be and how this can save their country. It makes total sense that Kifaji would be the form Leona's conscience assumes.

I feel like dream!Kifaji could also represent... that last shred of hope that Leona has for himself 💀 As late as book 6 of the main story, Leona states that Jamil isn't like him, hinting that while he believes Jamil has the capacity to change and be a better person, he doesn't have that same faith for himself. AND MAN, THAT SHIT WAS HEARTBREAKING OTL Then, entering his dream in book 7, we see just how deep that despair truly runs. Malleus promised everyone happy dreams, didn't he? And Leona has theoretically been given everything he has supposedly ever wanted. The crown, his kingdom, the power to enact all of the policies and laws he believes would benefit his people, wealth for his country, etc. But that has bled the country of its resources, made the people resent him--and he's still left bitter and unfulfilled, alone in the palace. This isn't what happiness truly looks like, but it sadly might be what Leona believes Sunset Savanna is destined for if he's left in charge of it. (Idia likens the dream to a sandbox game, and Leona, being the owner of it, decided to play it "realistically".) He can only become king if the rest of his family dies or goes missing. (This is even more morbid if you believe the headcanon that Leona committed fratricide and murdered/convinced Cheka to run away.) He'll achieve his goals, but at the cost of isolating himself and making himself a pariah. He and his people will starve to death. Everything he touches will crumble into sand. That's all he and his unique magic are good for, anyway. Destroying things, never creating or building them. AND HE STILL CONTINUES TO EXIST IN THIS WASTELAND, ACTING LIKE HE'S IN THE RIGHT AND LIVING IN DENIAL THAT ANY OF THIS IS HIS FAULT... while Kifaji, his conscience, his hope, is right there trying to get him to see reason.

Leona's dream was such a shock to see right after Jack and Ruggie's. The contrast between how he views himself and his rule vs how his dorm members see him and his rule is like NIGHT AND DAY. You got Jack here thinking of Leona as an upstanding and honorable dorm leader and team captain and Ruggie who dreams of a Leona who graduates and betters the lives of the entire country and the less fortunate by building schools and establishing magift/spelldrive clubs (which enhance Sunset Savanna's soft power). Then you have... whatever hellscape Leona has conjured up 😭 It's so sad that Leona pictured RUGGIE as being one of his most devoted haters too. Yeah, Ruggie sometimes complains about Leona running him ragged and how rich people have it easy compared to him, but Ruggie has never expressed this level of vitriol towards Leona before... yet in his own darn dream, Leona believes Ruggie would HATE him and try to overthrow him when that couldn’t be further from the truth. In Ruggie’s dream, he hasn’t even MET Leona before but still looks up to him for what he has accomplished and done to help the poor and the downtrodded 😭

I have mentioned before that I don't believe Leona needs to become an actual king in order to be happy (that post here!), and I think this most recent update proved my point. Jack points it out to us (in case we didn't already put together) that Leona is still miserable in spite of being gifted the crown and kingdom. Leona is still not satisfied. Even if he becomes king, he won't be satisfied. Even if he obtains everything he wants, he won't feel fulfilled. Never, ever, ever. AND THAT MAKES SENSE, because what Leona REALLY wanted all along wasn't the crown but the acknowledgement of his skills and talents... "proof" of his worth as an individual. I feel like the word "king" is thrown around a lot in regards to Leona, both in fandom and within his own dorm (Ruggie, Jack, etc. refer to him as their "king" quite often). However, it's not "king" that holds weight to Leona... it's everything that comes associated with the title. Respect, validation, love. These are all the things Leona got so little of as a child, which is why he fixates on them now. He has even expressed that he doesn't value the title of king if you didn't earn that title to begin with, which just goes to show that he wants to be able to prove himself and be seen for it. AND THE SAVANACLAW STUDENTS DO, AAAAAAAHHHAAHAHHHHHHHHHHHHhHhhhHhhhhh OTL JUST LIKE JACK SAID, HE'S THEIR DORM LEADER...

As dark as Leona's dream was, I appreciate it a lot for its realistic depiction of... Leona's worse tendencies... along with a potential future under his command. I often see people claiming that Leona would be a far better ruler for Sunset Savanna than Falena is. And to that, well... I'd say look at Leona's dream and some of the points brought up in it. I don't think his rule would be as terrible as what we see in the dream, HOWEVER. The dream mentions many shortcomings of Leona as a ruler, such as disregarding traditions and refusing to listen to advisors and input from the people. This would naturally make him unpopular with the country he serves, and it certainly doesn't help that he is not amicable either. These are only a few points I brought up in my extensive post comparing Leona and Falena's ruling styles, which I would highly recommend reading. I want to stress that I am in no way saying Leona would be a bad ruler. I believe that he and Falena compensate for each other's weaknesses. This is why I feel that the best solution isn't a blanket "X brother would be better than Y brother!", but rather that they should work as a team and make the best use of each other's strengths.

adfaiifvifiaef efoubfia LEONA SACRIFICING HIMSELF FOR RUGGIE I PRETTY MUCH SAW COMING 😭 Bro had to do something to make up for almost sanding him in book 2...

I really glossed over Leona's big confrontation with his Phantom in my initial reaction post, so I'd like to take the time to comment more on it here. A lot of what Leona tells his Phantom I felt was also the kind of advice he gave Jamil in book 6 (which only further reinforces the idea that he had hope for Jamil but not for himself). He dislikes people who complain about their situation but do nothing to change the circumstances... ALL TRUE OF BOTH HIM AND JAMIL. I think what makes Leona’s confrontation so different from the others we’ve seen so far is that while the others are more triumphant/telling the Phantoms how they’ve grown… Leona’s is sort of resigned? Like he still sees his negative traits (his pride, his underhandedness, etc.) and talks about how he has changed as a person but he also admits that this is his fault, that this bitterness and desire to be king will always remain will him. That’s fine—because Leona tells that darkness within himself that he’ll accept it too. (Jack does the same; his senpai are pretty awful but he chooses to accept them as they are.) I really loved that Leona swore to himself he’ll find his own throne and country… “Someday, for sure…!” It feels so hopeful after all that depressing stuff 😢 Reclaiming bis autonomy… Weh…………

asdbihabidbasdsa I still wish they had done a little more with Leona “knowing” it was a dream... Maybe making that "Kifaji is that part of Leona" more obvious or clearly stated because I feel like it could sail over people's heads? It might have also been interesting to see the blot try to suppress him like he's a feral beast that has to be kept under control 😔

DB SDABILASFIADFIAF tHAT DFUCKIBG SJHFBLADAD KING!L*ONa OUTFIT OTL TRHIS SI WHAT A MAN IN A SUIT IWiTH A HLAF CAPE THING AND SLICKED BACK HAIR DOES TO MEDFSKNLABIDBFIABIPEAFFQEIPYIBEUOF8TQEVOpfSBPsnjg 26871t9mg9qepgpeqomp9qvda bipivpada iegi THE EyE LOOK TOO ASDBLABSDSFIAFDI IT'S SCO CUn T Y AKJFHLBADGLBIHAGEIHGABIADGILBHWHICH IS REALLY WEIR FOR ME TO SAY ECUASE I USUALYL THINK THESE KINDS O EYE LOOKS ARE WAY TOO MUCH... . . ..... . . ........ . . .. . AnD TGE ExPOSED fOREHEADvv???!?!!!!!? HELLO ???!!!!!’mmcnNCCCVvV,cvvv???!!!!’nxhVahahshjwhzttTyqhwiau iTm anBEHGinG TO BE k!ssrd TOYcHEDF 🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢

THIS RICH BITCH IS OVER HERE IN A FANCY SU i TS 4 GOLD NECKLACES AND 3 RINGS WHILE HIS PEOPLE STARVE??????? DAMN NO WONDER WHY THEY WANNA EAT TH E RICH.

Side note: a friend pointed out that Leona's coat is basically a reused Octavinelle dorm uniform asset and, after checking... yeah, it basically is 😭 NOT THAT THERE'S ANYHTING WRONG WIH THAT, I just find it ironic because (in my own pseudo-lore) it reads like him trying so hard to be like J word and get my attention 💀💀💀 I AM AFRAID HE ATE AND LEFT NOC RUBMSN....

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

After The End

Pairing: Bucky x Reader/former Steve x Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: idk... there's lots of arguing and resentment

Genre: mostly angst some fluff here and there

Summary: It took you ages to put yourself back together when Steve chose to stay in the 40s, what happens when he comes back two years after

***

Life after Thanos was hard. Watching some of your closest friends disappear was not something you would ever be able to forget. Especially with those of you that were left scattered around trying to patch up what could be saved. Those five years were hard, but harder still was having almost everyone you loved return only to lose others. If you had known that beating Thanos would mean losing your boyfriend you might not have tried so hard. It's selfish to think that way, you know it is but you had a whole life planned with Steve, and being heroes you knew there was a chance you wouldn't get to see it through but losing him like this was- almost too much to bare. All he had to do was return the stupid stones to where you'd gotten them from to save the universe. It was supposed to be simple and there was something soul shattering about him choosing not to return to the team, to you. He took the stones back and then he stayed. Chose a life with Peggy that was never his rather than the life with you that he already had. It was agony, for months you were heartbroken. But you got through it. You mourned that life you envisioned, you mourned him, and while you'll probably always love him, you refused to let his choice destroy you. And you considered yourself lucky because Bucky was there for you through it all. On nights that were really bad, Bucky would stay with you even if you were up all night.

You aren't entirely sure when it happened, even now, looking back on it you can't pinpoint the moment late night conversations and afternoons completing chores became... more than that. You guess in spending so much time together you started to see Bucky in a different light. You'd always cared for him but what happened with Steve seems to have created a level of closeness you didn't expect. That first night that you kissed him was unexpected even to you. You'd been talking about nothing of consequence, he was lying on the floor of your room while you were in your bed, both of you staring at your ceiling for the most part. There was a lull in the conversation so you said the thing that had only clicked for you the week before at that point.

"I can't believe I let myself feel inadequate for so long." You sighed. You'd convinced yourself, for weeks, that Steve leaving was because you weren't enough, and only now were you coming to your senses about it.

"I'm sorry." Bucky had whispered it so quietly you almost thought he wasn't talking to you.

"You're sorry? For what? You didn't make him leave." You scoffed at him.

"For letting you feel less than perfect."

"Come on Buck, that's not on you." You'd rotated onto your stomach with a chuckle at his words. He'd cracked one eye open to look at you when he realized you were staring at him. Before you let yourself think about it too hard, you had leaned over the edge of your bed and kissed Bucky. It was quick and a bit awkward because of the angle but you made sure not to shy away from his surprised stare after.

"Did you just-" Bucky didn't even finish the question.

"Yeah. I guess I did." You'd smiled slowly watching a slight pink warm Bucky's cheeks.

You wish you could simply say 'and the rest is history' but that makes it seem like things were way easier than they were. It wasn't a smooth transition by any means. That night neither of you spoke for far too long, and when you could muster up something to say it wasn't to address the rapidly growing elephant in the room- it was to dispell the tension. You and Bucky spent two weeks dancing around the subject before he finally asked you if you were even ready for another relationship after Steve. That's when it clicked, why he'd been avoiding it in the first place, he was considering the possibility you were rebounding. Understandable concern but nope. It had been months, almost a year actually, since Steven had left. You knew you were in a place to begin again and you wanted to do it with Bucky.

Now the rest is history. You've been together ever since. About a year and a half at this point and you can't remember the last time you were this happy. The two of you meshed so well you can't believe there was a time you thought your future was with another man. You smile to yourself as you think about it while working on a painting. There's a knock at the front door that you almost don't hear.

"Y/n can you get the door? I'm in the bathroom!" Bucky shouts.

"Oh shit, of course!" You put down your brush and head to the door. You can't describe the shock that gripped you when you open the door.

"Steven." You blink at him.

"Hey. Nat- told me you'd moved. Luckily she uh, had your new address so-" He trails off with a shrug.

"Look not to- sound rude or anything, like I'm glad to see you, I think but, what are you doing here?" You ask.

"I thought- I thought I knew what I wanted but I got it wrong. I got it so wrong. My life- my happiness, it's here. With you." Steve steps towards you and you instinctively step back, placing a hand up gently to indicate your boundary.

"Hang on a second Steve. Just because your plan didn't work out doesn't mean you can just waltz back into my life like nothing's changed."

"Y/n! Who's at the door?" Bucky's voice calls from inside.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." You call back.

"I- didn't realize you'd have company." Steve mutters.

"Oh I don't. That's-" Before you can explain, Bucky's asking something, now walking over to join you at the front door.

"So who's this unbelievable surprise guest of-" Bucky's hands drop from where they were just about to settle on your waist when he finally glances out your door. "Steve." He says stepping back.

"Told you, you wouldn't believe me." You toss over your shoulder.

"Hey pal. Long time no see." Steve says. You can't tell if he's totally put it together yet but the strain in his voice tells you he at least knows something's changed between you and his best friend.

"I'll say. What happened to growing old with Carter?" Bucky asks, stepping around you to half hug Steve and offer a shoulder pat.

"I realized that- wasn't the life I wanted. I mean it was once upon a time but, not anymore. Things have changed." Steve shrugs.

"I see." Bucky nods.

"Well, Steve you're welcome to stay here with us while you- get back on your feet in the 21st century! Right Buck? Or I can send you over to Sam, he's back in Louisiana with family right now but I'm sure he'd love to see you too." You say.

"Oh, yeah, we can set him up in the extra room although- your art stuff is in there, did you want me to move it into my office or should I put it in your room?" Bucky hums.

"Do you have space in your office? Cuz I definitely can set it up in my room-"

"There's tons of space in my office." Bucky shrugs before you can finish. Steve clears his throat and you turn your attention back to him.

"Sorry to interrupt your- logistical discussion about all this, I j- I didn't realize you two were living together." Steve says.

"It's been two years. Like you said, things have changed." You say.

"You haven't told him?" Bucky looks at you.

"Well in my defense I was about to when you walked over here and the conversation kinda pivoted." You say.

"Okay well, do you want to do it or should I?" Bucky asks.

"I mean I don't want to but- it should be me, yeah." You mutter.

"Okay, can we stop doing this sidebar thing you guys are doing? Tell me- what exactly?" Steve asks. Bucky's hand settles comfortingly against your back, it's out of Steve's line of sight and you appreciate it greatly.

"Bucky- Bucky's my partner." You say.

"In the- you go on missions together sense or the 'my girlfriend is dating my best friend' sense?" Steve asks.

"It's been two years Steve-"

"So you replace me with my closest friend?"

"No. I moved on and yeah it was with Bucky but that was by chance it wasn't about you at all. Don't make it personal."

"You just happen to move on with my best bud? It feels pretty personal." He scoffs.

"Okay! Let's settle down. Steve, if you're gonna take our offer to stay I will show you to your room. Nat has some of your things at her place, the rest of it is in a storage unit. I'll take you down after." Bucky interrupts the would-be argument by changing the subject. You step out of the doorway to let Steve walk in as Bucky tugs him along.

"Why are my things at Nat's?" Steve asks.

"Well some of the more valuable things y/n held onto for a while but when she didn't want to keep them around here anymore we gave them to Nat to look after until we came up with a better plan since we didn't wanna leave them in a storage unit we'd barely go to." Bucky explains as the pair walk further into the house. You can't hear Steve's reply as you walk into the kitchen to regroup. Letting him stay here is going to make shit so weird. You sigh to yourself, with any luck he'll get on his feet pretty quickly and this will only last a couple of months. You can do a couple of months.

The first few weeks are, tense. You're not sure if Bucky is as aware of it as you are but your house is awkward and quiet most hours since Steve showed up. It's like most of your routines have been disrupted and you're not sure which ones are best left for after he's gone. Right now you're on your balcony with a cup of tea. When you glance over the ledge, you see Steve trudging into view. You watch curiously to figure out what he's doing, not even realizing Bucky's snuck up behind you until his arms settle around your waist.

"Penny for your thoughts my darling?" Bucky asks.

"Things are weird. Maybe I shouldn't have offered to let him stay here." You frown.

"Don't be silly. You wouldn't be you if you hadn't offered." Bucky chuckles.

"Sure but- now I'm worried I've put us- put you in an uncomfortable situation." Bucky spins you around to face him. His hand comes up to the side of your face, fingers grazing your cheek softly.

"I'm fine. Are you uncomfortable with him being here? Because I can suggest he spend some time checking in with the others if you'd-"

"No, I don't want to kick him out. I just- I don't want you to lose him because of me." You say taking his hand in yours kiss his knuckles.

"If 70 years and Russian brainwashing couldn't destroy our friendship I think we can make it past this." Bucky winks at you. You glance over the balcony again in time to see Steve toss some wood at a growing pile.

"What is he doing? Why is he piling wood?" Your eyebrows scrunch up.

"You can just ask him you know." Bucky muses.

"It's not harming anyone. I don't need to know." You shake your head.

"You wanna ask don't you?"

"It's just strange." You say fighting a smile.

"Just ask." Bucky laughs leaving you to your tea on the balcony. A moment later you let your curiosity get the better of you and lean against the metal railing of the balcony.

"Steve hon, what on earth are you doing?" You ask him.

"A tree fell, so- I'm breaking it down into firewood."

"Stevie it's August, we're not using the fireplace." You shake your head with a laugh.

"Better safe than sorry." He shrugs.

"You must be incredibly bored." You muse.

"No, I just like to be prepared." He says. "Alright, I'm a little bored." He adds with a sigh after a moment.

"Well if you need something to do- I was catching up with Nat the other day, she said a couple of the tenants in her building moved out for whatever reason, you should talk to her about applying." You tell him.

"I'll give her a call." He squints up at you.

"Good." You nod heading back into the apartment. That's honestly the longest conversation you've had since the day he moved in. Usually, you spend all day avoiding him- or he spends all day avoiding you- you're not sure but you don't speak really, except you make a point to ask him about dinner, if he has plans, or if he'd like to join you and Bucky. You're a good host, but you don't talk to each other much. Not that you expect any different, you were together for six years and he up and left but he's back now- and things are not what he thought they'd be. What else could be said honestly?

You actually don't mind the silence between you two, because the day Steve decides to break that pattern brings forth the worst conversation. The type you've been dreading since the moment he appeared at your door. You're cleaning around the apartment and Steve offered to help, first you worked in silence, just the music from your speaker filling the air until a particular song came on. One you played for Steve once that he immediately fell in love with. It became your song. You only recently stopped associating the song with him but you forgot it was in this playlist otherwise you would've picked another one.

"You still listen to this song?" Steve asks. You keep your back turned to him as you wipe down the coffee table.

"Of course I do. I knew the song before- it was, ours." You say.

"This is the first time I've heard it in a while." He muses.

"Duh the song didn't exist until the 2010s." You scoff.

"Yeah I guess that's- that's true. It's strange though, that awareness of what's to come."

"Yeah that's why most of sci fi warns you not to go time jumping."

"You clean with different products now." Steve points out. You're not sure what he's trying to do here but you are in no mood to dance around awkwardness with him.

"Scented products are easier for Bucky. He says plain bleach  smells too sterile." You mutter. It's Bucky that buys most of the cleaning products anyway, but he always buys citrus stuff.

"It's not easy, you know, seeing my best friend with the love of my life every day." Steve says after a stretch of silence. At this, you turn to face him, trying to stifle that frustration bubbling inside you.

"You left me. Left us. Not the other way around Steve. You don't get to complain about us having picked up the pieces." You tell him.

"I still love you, that's not something I can just pretend isn't there." He says.

"And I love Bucky." You shrug.

"Not me?"

"It doesn't matter." You shake your head.

"It does."

"If it mattered to you at all you would've never left." You grit out.

"So say it." He says quietly.

"What?"

"Tell me you don't love me."

"Steve-"

"Say it. If what we had is truly all in the past for you tell me you don't love me. That there's no place in your heart for me and- I'll move on."

"This isn't fair." You shake your head.

"No?"

"No! You got the life with Peggy that you thought you wanted. You abandoned me. Now you're asking me to choose you when you didn't choose me. How can you expect me to do that?"

"I'm choosing you now!"

"And I've chosen Bucky. I wanted the world with you. All you had to do was come back to me. And you didn't. It's too late now Steve. You needed to choose me two years ago."

"You still haven't said-"

"I don't love you. That's what you want to hear? You lost me the day you chose not to come back. I shouldn't have to spell it out for you. I chose Bucky, yes. But you-" Deep breath. "If you can't handle me and Bucky together in our home then- maybe you should go stay with Sam or Natasha." You say. You're not going to argue with him.

"Are you kicking me out?"

"I'm offering you an alternative- because, I will not be choosing you. Not now, not ever again, you had your chance and if you can't come to terms with that, if it's too difficult to be around reminders that you fucked up and I kept living life without you then by all means don't destroy your mental health staying here. You have other friends."

"How can you expect me to just- pretend what we had means nothing? How can you pretend it means nothing?"

"I'm not asking you to pretend shit. I also am not pretending it means nothing I'm just aware of the reality that it's over and that's something you need to come to terms with because you left and Bucky made me feel alive again when your leaving nearly killed me. It's been two years, did you think I would simply be waiting indefinitely for you to decide I was worth something to you again?"

"Wait a second you have always been worth something to me. You've always been worth everything." Steve frowns.

"You don't get to say that! You don't abandon people that are 'worth everything' to you. You chose someone else and that's a choice you have to live with." You say, your finger practically in his face. The sound of the apartment door opening disrupts your anger enough that you step back.

"Hey guys- did I miss something?" Bucky frowns looking between you two even though you've already stopped back over to the coffee table. Bucky's quick to come to your side, scanning your face for any clues as to what's going on, although he heard the last bit of what you said as he was coming down the hall. "Baby?" He coaxes gently, his fingers stroking against your side.

"I'm gonna go to Sam's for a little while." Steve grits out.

"Feel free to stay there." You clip before you can stop yourself. Steve's footfalls pause for a moment at your words but he doesn't respond before eventually he trudges out the front door.

"Feel free to stay there?! What... happened while I was out?" Bucky asks with a disbelieving chuckle.

"He has... a lot of nerve." You force out through clenched teeth.

"You're gonna have to give me more details than that so I can understand what's wrong doll."

"He just told me how hard it is to watch his best friend with the 'love of his life' every day. The love of his life that he left to be with a woman that lived and died without him. He asked me to choose him. Because after two years I'm supposed to still love the man that left me. Because it's not enough that he almost destroyed me the last time. Because for some reason he thinks I'd rather be picked two years too late."

"He's hurting."

"Yeah well, so was I. Two years ago. He'll live. I did." You shrug. Bucky pulls you into a hug, kissing the top of your head as he gently sways you both back and forth. You lived through hell that day you realized Steve chose a life with Peggy. You'd be damned if you ever let that happen again.

***

[brucewaynehater101]

I have a vent fic wip that I may or may not finish so I just need to tell someone that I am...feeling so many things all the time about the consequences of the 16th birthday but...

primarily, right now, at this moment. without Robin/Bruce, Tim thought he would lose Dick and everyone else he knew through Robin. and then a little bit later when he quit for Jack, he got radio silence for Months until he became a potential victim, and even then it was just Cass stopping in to give the message and be like "I'll watch you to keep you safe 👁️👁️ ok bye" and he had actual Proof that without Robin, he would lose everyone.

and then. Dick "you're my equal (even tho I'm drastically changing your life without your knowledge or permission), you're my closest ally (even tho you don't even have a name to go out in the field to assist me as backup), I need you (even tho, as mentioned, I made a huge decision without your input because I didn't need it because I know best actually)" Grayson.

skipping over the fact that Dick didn't even have the time to say "you're fired" or anything resembling that, when Tim lost "Robin" to Damian, he felt like he lost everything else too. it didn't matter what Dick said about "equals" or "allies" or "needing". he already had Concrete Proof that it was all false. cheap words that are easily disproven do nothing in this situation, Dichard!

(disclaimer: I love and respect Dick Grayson, I just also think Dick Stopped Existing as soon as he made Damian his Robin for the most pathetic stupid illogical risky-ass excuse he could ever give for making anyone Robin (or a vigilante in general). "because he'll kill someone again". who the fuck says that?? who thinks "oh no oh god oh fuck this kid is gonna go off the rails he's gonna kill someone, I need to Put Him In A Place Of Power Over Oblivious Innocent Untrained People Who Are Expecting A Kind And Empathetic Hero To Save Them" hUH???? ok sorry, I just wanted to rant about what Tim "losing Robin" meant)

I agree with ya. Dick Grayson is fantastic, but it seems weird that he nuked his entire relationship with Tim (a very strong one that other fans have referred to them as "The Brothers") for the new kid.

Yes, Damian is a ten year old traumatized kid who just lost the dad he didn't really have the chance to get to know. Yes, Damian needed guidance, boundaries, and compassion.

But DC spent so much time and effort building up Tim and Dick's rapport only to obliterate it once the "blood son" came in (I also love Damian. This is not hate on the kid. This is confused commentary on DC's choices). It's just a strange idea, but that's also why it hurts so much when Dick does that to Tim.

Then you tie in Tim losing Robin by Dick to Tim's experiences before? Fuck. You are so right for that.

As far as the RR run, Dick could've handled Tim believing Bruce a bit better. I don't necessarily blame him for that one. I get why he wasn't supportive in the way Tim wanted, even though I would've chosen differently for my siblings.

Dick taking Robin, though? That was fucked up. I, honest to the gods, do not see how that was a justified course of action. I can understand his perspective, but it's still not okay. At all.

There's your very adequate analysis:

Robin, for Tim, is his tie to his loved ones. He has proof (twice) that without it, he does not have access to the people he cares about and his support system.

Dick said a lot of pretty words about "equals," but his actions were precisely contradictory to his "intentions."

Tim has had Robin taken from him before or had to give it up. He chose to go back despite this. He obviously feels strongly about being Robin

Damian has not proven, at this point, to be trustworthy as a vigilante (someone in power without oversight). He has instead shown use of excessive force

This isn't even going into the way he found out. That's just an extra layer.

The way Tim has repeated lost and regained Robin (even after RR) as well as his title as Red ROBIN are, to me, a sign that he's still trying to hold on. It's my belief that he would have moved onto a new title, like his predecessors, if it hadn't constantly been an unsure role.

His start was rocky as hell due to Bruce not initially wanting it. Tim had to prove himself and put himself into the costume.

He "quit" twice before it was taken from him in a traumatic way (nothing like being instilled with the fear that the position you've held for four years can suddenly be yanked out from under you without warning)

Damian and Jason both vehemently protested to him being Robin

It would make sense if all of these factors combined to Tim's unwillingness or inability to just let Robin go, especially when we factor in his reason to be Robin. Since Bruce never really gets "better" and continually falls back into bad habits, Tim needs to maintain his task of pulling Bruce back from the edge. We could also throw Jean Paul into this to further how Tim is forced to play as the barrier between a grown adult and their desire to harm others in the name of good.

So, Tim's time as Robin is marked by consistent instability while contrasted with his inherent position as Bruce's leash and the batfam fixer. While the other Robins did have times of doubt, the predecessors of Tim did not have the pervasive role insecurity with regards to Robin.

They had their big moment at the end and some smaller moments in-between, but not quite on the continous scale of Tim. Tim had three big moments and was still sucked back into Robin when Damian quit.

To be Robin is to earn Bruce's love and the ability to be part of the Wayne family. To lose Robin is the risk of losing that (at least to the perspectives of the Robins if not 100% the reality).

I'm not sure I'm articulating this accurately. Regardless, no wonder Tim clutches the title of Robin with bleeding hands no matter how much it cuts him and costs him.

[suguru-getos]

-> kinktober day 1: cockwarming

yandere neuvillette x f! reader (art cred: hagihino)

a/n: hello hello~ 👋 hope everyone is doing well, i haven’t really made a kinktober masterlist yet. i am still thinking about the prompts and will mind work through it i guess. 🤭 enjoy! it’s small :/ because i wrote an entire prompt about tartaglia as well but it couldn’t get saved in the drafts so i was done ://

-> “if you continue to move, you’d have proper consequences.” the chief justice of fontaine wasn’t playing around today, the way he held you down by your nape. watching you choke on his cock and salivating messily upon his thigh. you whimpered, voice sending reverberations through his shaft which makes the possessive hydro sovereign shudder.

“i just hoped this would possibly help you with knowing when to be quiet.” he hums, hands raking through your hair. you could feel the scent of his pre & the taste of it dribbling down the back of your throat. you see — neuvillette is the chief justice of fontaine, so when his significant other that he chose suddenly decides to say she isn’t allowed to go out of the house without neuvillette’s permission, in front of furina? you knew you have fucked up beyond repair.

neuvillette’s gaze was steel, scheming, perhaps contemplating what to do with you upon this. so? here you were, on your knees between his legs, in his office where the doors are closed & no one would suspect anything, no one would disturb neuvillette either. “mmf-“ you whined, soft struggles, your jaw aches from this. you want out. soft doe eyes batting at him with tears.

neuvillette’s gloved hand reaches out to wipe the stray tears from the apple of your cheek. “what is it? don’t like the taste of justice for the crimes you committed? or you think the punishment isn’t fair?”

you leaned back to be able to speak, but neuvillette’s hand quickly entangled against your hair, shoving you back to the hilt. deep throating his ridged, angry cock. “not yet, little one. be still and i might let you off.”

[futurepastme]

At King Emry's Court: Full Scene

(The badass King Merlin AU)

Excerpt: Arthur frowned a little, ready to complain, before remembering himself. "You speak of justice…" "I never said anything about justice." Arthur frowned at the interruption again. "I've given your father three options. I offered him peace, I offered him ignorance and I offered him war; the only thing I did after that was make him aware that actions have consequences. This is what this is about; not revenge, not justice, but simple cause and effect."

In the middle of nowhere, northwest from Albion, was the island known by magic users as Elysium. Elysium seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, nobody had ever heard about it until about twenty years after Uther Pendragon started his war against magic.

Slowly, rumors of this island began to grow and eventually what was only a myth became real. Some kingdoms of Albion turned their eyes to the island; interested in their growing economy, the chance to trade with them and the chance to forge alliances. Soon enough the island that was known to be the magic users paradise — their hiding place if you will — became a bustling and well succeeded kingdom.

The King of Elysium was known mostly by name, a hooded figure by the name of Emrys. Few were the people that knew his face, most of them were part of the select group he chose to manage the island while he was away.

Emrys was rarely seen, his way of ruling the kingdom was different than everything one might have seen before for Emrys rarely stayed at the island, leaving it on the hands of his chosen few.

The chosen few were known as the seven, most of their identities were also unknown as they all chose to wear a hooded cape at all times, so they were mostly known as their assigned number.

As the Kingdom grew in strength and wealth, Uther Pendragon began losing allies and what was once seen as a strong man with a just fight in the name of good, was slowly turning into a madman thirsty for revenge and bloodshed.

Trying to save face, King Uther scheduled a visit to the island. He was indeed curious about the kingdom and about Emrys himself, but with his visit he hoped to learn their weaknesses and find enough information to create doubt amongst the other kingdoms of Albion and turn them against magic once more.

King Emrys kindly invited Camelot's party to spend the harvest celebrations with them, a week-long festival where both magic-folk and humans thanked the goddess and the land for the given provisions for the winter. Along with King Uther, Prince Arthur and a handful of servants and knights went on their way to meet the mysterious island.

Upon arrival, Camelot's party were welcomed by the seven, the man and woman that managed the island in Emrys absence. Uther didn't like it, he wanted nothing more than meet the man that dared to go against him, but Emrys was nowhere to be seen.

After two days of not finding the sorcerer, Uther demanded a meeting with Emrys' court and was surprised when he found out that even if his wish for a meeting was granted, Emrys himself still wouldn't see him.

Merlin was Prince Arthur's manservant — he had been for years as a reward for saving Arthur's life — and as the prince's servant he was granted the privilege of joining them on their visit to the island. But Merlin was more than a servant — in Prince Arthur's eyes he was closer to a friend — so Merlin also had the honour to be allowed in council meetings.

That's why Merlin now sat at the back of the room watching as King Uther made angry demands at Elysium's court, screaming at the councilwoman that had been introduced as the main representative and the second of the seven. He watched as the woman was interrupted again and again, as she tried to reason with the mad king that demanded to see Emrys and made threats of war.

He had had enough, there was nothing the woman could do against Uther, especially in the state he was in. Merlin took a step forward, and then another, slowly letting his secret seep out of him.

Upon noticing his movement, some of Elysium's councilmen and women started to move as well, until one of them raised their voice to say "All rise for the Lord Emrys," and Merlin fully let his magic out, allowing it to change his garments into ones more befitting of a king. He walked to his seat at the center of the room and, upon reaching it, turned around taking in the many emotions passing through the faces of Camelot's citizens that were in the room.

Uther's face was red as he restarted his complaints, this time filled with accusations, insults, and even more threats.

"You are nothing but a lowly servant!"

Merlin had enough, he had been done with Uther a long time ago and now he was filled with a rage he hasn't felt in a long time.

"I'm aware of what I am, Uther Pendragon." he started, his voice growing louder in order to compete with Uther's own screaming. "I am a peasant. I was born to grow crops," Merlin continued his speech standing up slowly.

"I was born to scrub floors, polish boots and clean chamber-pots. I was never suppose to be King, I wasn't suppose to have people depending on me, on my choices; I wasn't supposed to have to lead anyone or give anyone hope."

Merlin walked towards Uther, staring him dead in the eyes with such intensity that brought a golden gleam to his still blue irises.

"I never once asked for riches, for power; and I never asked to be King."

He stopped right in front of Uther, still staring at him, and brought his voice down. "You are the one who gave me this crown."

Uther had his face completely red, a vein in his forehead threatening to pop.

"You can scream all you want," Merlin continued, turning around and heading back to his seat. "You can hate me and my people, my kind; you can try and make demands and threats, but I assure you, you will not have it your way."

"Then you have chosen war." Uther said when Merlin paused his speech long enough to sit down.

Merlin looked at the small man in front of him with a mixture of disbelief and amusement.

"War?" He snorted, "you can't go to war with me, Uther. How would that even work?"

Merlin smiled and frowned his eyebrows. "We are in an island, Camelot has no ships of its own. You are here because you used my ships." He leaned back.

"Besides, who says I want war with Camelot? I actually quite like the place, you know? I have a bunch of friends there."

"Camelot is no friend of magic users, we will fight to rid the world of your little nest of pests."

Merlin dropped his smile, his eyes grew sharp once again as he focused on Uther, and he let out a sigh. "By the goddess you are tiresome."

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Here's the deal, I will give you three options to choose from. You can choose whatever one you like most, I'll be happy with any of them."

Uther seemed ready to speak again but never got the chance.

"Option number one: We sign a peace treaty similar to the ones I have with other kingdoms where we'll begin to plan trade routs and the such to start collaborating with each other, but you will have to stop your persecution and the bloodshed against my people," Merlin scrunched up his nose. "I'll not even demand that you lift the ban completely, merely that the punishment fits the crime committed and that you stop actively hunting us down."

Uther's face was getting closer to purple and he opened up his mouth. "Option number two," Merlin said louder before Uther restarted his hate speech.

"We sign an armistice and you go back to pretend this place doesn't exist and we will do the same with Camelot."

Merlin leaned back again, "which brings us to option number three: war"

Uther looked taken aback for a second that war was actually in one of his 'options', he looked eager to respond but Merlin raised his hand interrupting him again.

"Let me explain something about option number three before you choose. First of all, even if you manage to find ships to bring your knights across the sea, I assure you they will not make it to the port. The only ships that can anchor at my shores are the ones I allow to."

Merlin let the information sink in before continuing.

"Secondly, even if you manage to bring your man to my island you'll still have the three levels of protection shields that won't allow you to pass. Not mentioning the amount of magic users that would be eager to get their own personal revenge against anyone wearing Camelot's colours."

Merlin shook his head in disapproval.

"Finally, and this is the main one so pay attention; if you do choose to go to war against me, if you are so eager to erase magic from earth that you decide to go out of your way to persecute my kind in this sacred place; I promise you that no knight, no soldier, no innocent human from Camelot or otherwise, will be harmed in your foolish war. The only person that will face consequences if you seek war against my kingdom will be yourself, Uther Pendragon, and I'll make sure of it."

Merlin leaned forward again and rested his chin on his hands. "It's about time you start taking responsibility for your own mistakes, and assume the consequences of them like the man and king you were supposed to be."

The room went silent. Merlin's threat hang heavily in the air taking away the voices of everyone in the room, even from his own council who did not expect that decision. They all knew Merlin loved Camelot, and that he had a soft spot for it's prince.

"You dare to threaten me."

Merlin's eyebrows went up and a startled laugh escaped in a breath and soon turned into a giggle fit that was joined by the rest of Elysium's council.

"You are joking, right?"

"I demand a fair combat between our kingdoms, as a war is supposed to be."

"You are joking, right?" Merlin repeated. "You are not sitting in front of me, demanding war with people that you have murdered for decades and suddenly decide that you are pro-fairness just because things aren't going your way. Because if you are… well that's amusing, really. And befitting"

Merlin cleaned dry tears from his eyes.

"You threaten to murder me…"

"Murder? No, I don't recall saying that. I said that if you went with the warpath there would be consequences and you would be the only one to pay for them. In fact," he looked at the seven man and women he trusted most, the ones that ran his kingdom for him. "I'll tell you what, you have until the end of the week to make a decision, meanwhile councilwomen two and six will gather this week to decide what your fate will be if you choose the warpath."

"And how is that fair?" Arthur spoke and for the first time since Merlin left his place at the back and took his seat as Emrys, Merlin dared to look at him.

While Merlin knew Arthur better than the man knew himself, right now Arthur was using his court face, and even if usually he could read right past that as well, all Merlin could see right now was his steadfast gaze looking right back at him.

"Councilwoman two is a non-magic user, she helps us see the things by the point of view of those who have no magic at all but still have to live with it; councilwoman number six is a magic-user who lived in Camelot for a while, she was on her way to take matters in her own hands when I convinced her otherwise and she came to my island instead."

Merlin rested his chin on his hands again.

"I usually don't mind taking part on the decision-making — of course not, how could I? — but in this case I fear my judgment might be a little…" He let his gaze wander away and land back on the prince. "Compromised."

"I see the reasoning for your councilwomen choice, but how can I be certain that what they'll chose will be fair?"

Merlin let a smirk escape, both from the irony of the word fair related to Uther and for Arthur himself. Then he shook his head.

"You are forgetting that he doesn't have to choose that path."

"I think we both know the likeliness of that."

"What would you have me do, then?"

Merlin watched as a glimpse of surprise escaped through Arthur's mask, followed by a hint of doubt before both of them were suppressed again.

"Let me…"

"No." Merlin interrupted him before he could even start, there was no way he would let Arthur decide his own father's fate if it ever came down to it.

Arthur frowned a little, ready to complain, before remembering himself. "You speak of justice…"

"I never said anything about justice." Arthur frowned at the interruption again.

"I've given your father three options. I offered him peace, I offered him ignorance and I offered him war; the only thing I did after that was make him aware that actions have consequences. This is what this is about; not revenge, not justice, but simple cause and effect."

Arthur stared at Merlin with tight lips, he didn't like what Merlin had said but he also didn't have a good enough argument to go against his reasoning.

Merlin kept his gaze focused on Arthur's face trying to catch another glimpse of his emotions. He could feel his frustration and annoyance but most of all, he knew Arthur feared for his father.

"However" He continued, "I can see your point of view and after careful consideration I have come to realized that perhaps you might have a point."

Arthur looked shocked, not just a glimpse that was escaping through his mask, no, Arthur was completely shocked and it was clear for everyone to see.

"Well of course I have a point"

"Sure"

Arthur scrunched his nose in annoyance and Merlin smiled. Maybe things would be alright in the end.

"Like I was saying, you made me realize that it would be interesting to have the point-of-view of someone that has been directly under King Uther's rule and isn't connected to magic in any way in the decision making process, so I'll allow you, Prince Arthur, to chose someone from your party to speak on your kingdom's behalf."

Uther talked back at that. "If anyone should be choosing my representative, it should be me!"

Merlin had honestly forgotten Uther was still there, in fact he was so focused on Arthur that he forgot that everybody else who wasn't him were still there. He was so glad he didn't see any trace of hate in his prince's eyes that the rest of the world didn't seem to be attention worthy.

Granted, Arthur still had his mask on, but the glimpses Merlin managed to see earlier were all hatred-free, so Merlin was hopeful and if everything turned out not horrible, Merlin was considering to create a new holiday to celebrate this day.

"Honestly, Uther, the fact that you still think you have any say in my court baffles me. You entered here spitting rage and making demands like some kind of entitled child, why you would think I would let you make any decision about anything after that makes me severely concerned for your kingdom, and that's coming from someone who's been living there."

Uther spluttered.

"Arthur is choosing because the argument was his, because he seems to have his bearings and, honestly? Because he's more likable than you."

Uther's mouth opened slightly and Merlin noticed a small smile creeping up Arthur's mouth.

"Now, Prince Arthur, I'm going to need a name but if you allow me an advice, I'd tell you to choose for the kingdom, not for the man."

Arthur looked back at him in the way he always did when he thought Merlin had said something uncharacteristically wise, except this time it came with a weight Merlin couldn't place.

Merlin didn't know but Arthur was looking at him with admiration, Merlin always confused him in the sense that he seemed so much more than just a servant, like Merlin had the heart of a noble and the wisdom of a king. Now that he knew the truth about him, everything seemed to fall into place.

Merlin always had that aura around him — especially when giving Arthur advice — of someone that was destined for greatness. Learning that he was Emrys made so much sense that while looking at him right now, sitting in a throne leading and protecting his kind with certainty, Arthur didn't find it in himself room to be angry about it. Not when that scene felt so right that he wondered why he never realized how magnificent Merlin would look with a crown.

Arthur looked around the room for a while, seemingly measuring the men that had come with them.

"I can have someone brought from Camelot before lunchtime if you don't have what you need here," Merlin offered and Arthur looked surprised at him.

Merlin knew who he would've chosen. It seemed obvious to him but maybe Arthur had a different strategy.

"I choose Sir Leon," he turned to the man himself "If you feel like you're up to the task."

"It would be my honour, Sire." He bowed in agreement.

"Wonderful!" Merlin clapped his hands once which seemed to startle a few people. He smiled at Arthur's good choice before continuing. "Sir Leon will be joining the second and the sixth throughout this week to reach a mutual decision about what would be an appropriate outcome." He waved at each of them as he spoke.

"Meanwhile," he continued. "King Uther has a week to reach a decision of his own about what is to be done with both our kingdoms. While he does so I want to remind the court that the Camelot party are still our guests and must continue to be treated as such."

He looked back at Uther, "you are all, of course, still invited to partake in our harvest celebrations — there's no need for bad blood between us while a decision hasn't been made — and you are all free to explore the kingdom as you will, I just ask you all not to wander through our forests by yourselves, they have a tendency to be purposefully confusing."

He turned his gaze to his court.

"In the interest of full transparency, not more courtly meetings will be held until we gather again in a week to hear Camelot's position, all non-urgent matters shall be postpone to the week after, and the urgent ones can be brought directly to me."

"You will regret this." Uther interrupted, his voice filled with poison and disdain. "You think you can spy on me and my kingdom without consequences, I'll make you pay for your lies and your sins."

The room felt heavy again, Merlin was just tired.

"Can't wait to hear all about it next week. Court dismissed."

He stood up and his court stood with him, differently from what is done in Camelot, the Elysium court always waited for him to leave the room first before leaving their places. He wasn't sure when this began being their way but he had a suspicion it started because Merlin hated attending court and always were the first at the door when it was over.

Camelot's household watched in silence as the whole room of Elysium's court stood in place waiting for their king to leave through the door before moving to leave themselves.

It wasn't long after Merlin left that he began hearing the familiar footsteps following after him. They were strong and decisive and were marching straight towards him with purpose, soon enough he felt a strong hand around his arm and long nails digging at his sleeve. "I want him dead"

"And what else is new?"

He felt the nails digging deeper and he was forced to stop. He turned around and found himself face to face with green eyes filled with anger and annoyance.

"This isn't a joke, Merlin. Uther should die, this is the only way."

"You heard my decision, Morgana." Merlin stared back at her with a steady gaze, they had had that discussion many times before and while Morgana always complied with his decision of not going for Uther's throat, it didn't mean she was happy about it. "It's not me you have to convince of that."

"You really think Leon and Hunith will let me sentence him to death? Have you met them? They don't understand, Merlin, not like we do."

Merlin's gaze softened as he stared at her. "Do you know why I chose you to be part of the seven?"

"Because I'm powerful and have understanding of courtly matters."

"That helps, of course, but that was not the reason." Morgana's stance softened in surprise.

"Was it out of guilt?"

"What?"

"Some kind of gift to apologize for the poison?"

Merlin was taken aback with surprise, it had been a while since he thought about that day. "I thought we had put that behind us."

"We did." She sounded relieved.

"Morgana, I chose you because I trust you to fight for our kind in a way I'm not able to. You are angry, and while you might not be out for revenge anymore, it doesn't mean you would casually dismiss it like I would. But most of all, I chose you because after everything you've been through in Camelot, after Uther and after me, you still managed to maintain enough heart to not give in. I admire you, Morgana. You have a strength in you that can inspire people to follow you. I'm lucky to have you by my side and I trust you to make the right decision."

Morgana looked at him in shock, she seemed so vulnerable like this, with big doe eyes that seemed to be staring at the sun for the first time. It was gone quickly enough, she looked down and recomposed herself. "It's because of you, you know?"

"Me? I was under the impression that I made things worse."

"You did, at first, but you reached out to me later and didn't give up. I don't know what would have become of me if you hadn't. The path Morgause was taking us was not one I'd dare to follow today, it came from a place of despair and anger and I would have walked down that road with her til the end if it weren't for your persistence. We might have ended up in different sides of this war."

"I see. I'm glad it didn't came to it then."

"So am I." They smiled at each other before Merlin turned again and offered her his arm. "So, tell me, how's Morgause doing? Did she find new apprentices?"

She took his arm and laughed, "oh, you wouldn't believe it, those poor girls."

They continued their journey down the hallways of Elysium Castle, chatting and gossiping like old friends. Merlin knew there was still much to be done, he still had to find Arthur and explain himself to his prince, and he knew Uther wouldn't spend this week in silence. Just imagining the headache he could bring for his people left him slightly out of breath.

But that was a problem for another time, right now he just wanted to enjoy the pleasant company of one of his dearests friends in the world without any drama to stain it. "Anyway, let's talk about the way Arthur was looking at you, don't think I didn't notice."

Or not

"Did you hear that? I think I heard Lord Erick calling me." He let go of her and started sprinting away while laughing.

"Merlin! Come back here! You will not get away from this conversation! Merlin!" her voice echoed through the hallway as Merlin ran away with the wind.

☽♚☾

[moonlight-prose]

RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

➛ 07. BENEATH THE STAINS OF TIME

a/n: wow i stalled on writing this chapter until the last minute. i think i really just didn't want to put them through this, but also i love the angst so it's an internal war i fought with myself. this is the pinnacle of the entire series. the one thing i plotted when i first came up with the story. so grab your tissues, a blanket, and a comfort fic for afterwards. because i am sorry for what's about to happen.

summary: he never liked the variant from your universe; the be all end all hero. but in the depths of anger and pain, logan howlett is forced to make a choice his variant self once made. save your soul and the people you might harm...or save the you he loves.

word count: 9.5k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: DARK THEMES AHEAD BE WARNED, angst, pain, ptsd, talk of drowning, insanity, tw: torture, tw: blood, tw: death, grief, violence, wade wilson breaking the fourth wall, deadpool & wolverine energy, laura kinney has enetered the chat y'all, father daughter bonding, wade wilson's commentary, sacrifice, time.

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He couldn't breathe.

Logan had been underwater before, felt the press of the ocean against his chest and struggled for oxygen. Battling for breath, no matter how small. He understood what it felt like to drown—sink to the bottom and never get up. His adamantium skeleton had been the cause of him drowning far too many times in his life; until he'd grown accustomed to the sensation of fighting for air.

This felt magnified. As if he'd been at the bottom of the Atlantic—straight down the Mariana Trench—for centuries.

Was this how it felt to be buried alive? To find yourself in a grave six feet deep with no way of clawing to the surface.

He never thought he'd understand the sensation that kept him up at night; the prospect of death was too little a threat for him to actually worry about. Unimportant to a man who had spent two centuries of his life barely finding any meaning to it. After all, what was the fucking point when he wound up right back here. In the shallow end of his grave, waiting to lay down and exhale his final breath.

Time fell back into place the moment you left. Fortuna. Someone he never thought would find him here; now brought him to his knees with one simple act.

There was misery in love. He knew this the moment he fell in his own universe. He understood the cost of what might come from you using your powers without restrictions; what Charles told you. Yet he fell anyway. He allowed his heart to open up and give you leeway into the broken pieces of his mind—a part of himself he chose to ignore.

He should have fucking known better than to repeat history here.

He should have ignored the strings that bound his heart to yours and left you alone.

He should have, he should have, he should have...

But he didn't.

Now he bore the brunt of consequences he knew would one day show up.

Your apartment door slammed open, nearly getting torn off the hinges as a familiar echo of heavy boots thumped across the hardwood floor. He felt his spine tense where he still knelt—hands clutching the pieces of your shattered mug. Fortuna wouldn't be returning. He knew her tricks, knew her endgame, and coming back to the scene of disaster was never her forte.

The scent of vanilla and Ambrose filled his senses, stinging his nose, as a familiar dark browned girl rushed to his aid. A backpack hit the ground, sunglasses discarded on the counter, as his variant's daughter clutched his hands in hers. He couldn't bring himself to look at her. Not when he broke right there in a place that held such happiness.

She seemed to understand. Peeling the porcelain out of his palms and placing it back on the table; finding what other shards she could to put them all together. The silence felt safe. Familiar.

Logan found himself suddenly thankful for the variant that once existed in her world. She could see the cues before they even washed across his face; the bitter grief that her father once went through. He knew from when he met her in the Void, he couldn't be that person for her. But when she looked at him like that—a daughter willing to fight alongside her father—he hoped that maybe...he could.

"Althea called me," she said softly, hands wrapped around his wrists. "Whoever she is attacked Wade's place first."

His head rose, anger trickling in his chest as Laura's brown eyes mirrored his own. "She's..."

"I know," she muttered, pulling him to his feet. "Wade filled me in."

"Is he-"

"Takes a lot more than that to kill a Deadpool." She grimly kicked shattered glass to the side, shoving it to a corner as he staggered to his full height. He wore a neutral expression—somber even. But Laura could see the pain in his eyes; an exact replica of the older man she once clung to as a child—begging him to live for her sake. "He sounded pissed. Althea hung up before he could fill me in on the gory details."

"Fortuna," he sighed, eyes fixed on the demolished window. He'd have to help you fix it after all was said and done—after he apologized for dragging you into a mess that was never meant to touch you. "She found me."

Laura's nose scrunched, brows furrowed. "You're ex? I thought she could control time, not...multiverses."

"Charles's theory was that she wasn't exactly controlling time. More like what made up the universe as a whole."

She nodded. "Time included."

"Time included," he repeated. "I didn't think she'd...get this bad."

"You left her behind," she stated, rummaging in your fridge for something to drink. "I guess a part of me can understand her anger."

He knew she wasn't talking about him, but rather the man she once looked up to. Nonetheless the words still stung the same.

In a different world Logan could picture her here on nights not spent at the mansion studying and training. He could see you bonding with Laura—teaching her the history of the X-Men. Showing her the love of a mother she never had.

The image punched him in the chest until his breath became nonexistent and suddenly...he was drowning again. A choked noise echoed in the back of his throat. Laura's head snapped in his direction with concern etched across her face. Any other day he'd loathe that look, but tonight he couldn't dig his way out fast enough to care.

The soda can she tossed his way nearly smacked him in the head; effectively snapping him out of whatever fucking stupor his own mind was intent on trapping him in. He caught it, breath rushing back to his lungs, and gulped down the shitty sugary crap his own kid loved.

"That's fuckin' disgusting," he bit out, watching her smile into her own can.

"I like it."

He winced as the taste hit the back of his throat. "You're a kid. You'll grow out of it."

"You've said that before Dad. And I'm not a kid-" She tensed as the word left her mouth. The title that was never meant to fall upon his shoulders; never supposed to tie him to another person.

Something hesitant flashed in her eyes, mouth now a thin line as she waited for his inevitable reaction to her slip up. The words he uttered beside the fire no doubt on the tip of his tongue: Whoever you think I am...you got the wrong guy. But standing there, watching his kid hold hope in her eyes that he might say something different this time, made him finally understand what the fucking point was.

He didn't want to be the wrong guy.

He just wanted to be what she needed. What you needed.

"No," he sighed, lips curling into a smile that said enough. You can call me Dad. You can give me that responsibility and know I'll fight like hell to make sure I live up to his legacy. "I guess you're not."

They allowed the silence to sit in their chest for a brief moment. A moment of understanding passed in their grim smiles that held so much more. He'd tell it all to her one day. How he once longed for a life exactly like this, for a kid of his own. How he never believed himself worthy of the title Dad. How he'd lay down his entire being if she asked it of him.

Today though, they shed the titles of father and daughter and donned one they knew all too well. Wolverine. Ironic that the one thing he loathed would one day be given to a girl who wielded it with pride.

"What are you gonna do?" she asked, pushing off the counter and reaching for her bag.

"Find her."

"And when you do?"

His heart paused as the realization of what was to come began to reenter his mind. Fortuna had you captive, dangling you on a string in the hopes he would latch on to rescue the person who held his heart. Logan felt the urge to leap. Save you from the clutches of someone willing to kill you just to bring him unimaginable pain.

To get even for what he couldn't do that night.

But he also knew...Fortuna didn't deserve what happened. The humans destroyed what the X-Men built. They were the cause of everything that occurred since he left. He couldn't let their trauma bring down the woman he once loved. Even if she was so adamant on watching him give over his life for a version of her not yet broken by unimaginable pain.

"I don't fuckin' know," he admitted.

She took another sip, crushed the can in her palm and tossed it to the bin in the corner of your kitchen. "Wade's gonna want to speak to you. Find out what happened here."

He nodded. "You got everythin'?"

"I'm set."

"You know you don't have to do this kid. It's not your fight."

Her eyes narrowed, the firm set of her mouth so much like his own. She was a fucking mirror he never thought he'd have; showing him pieces of himself he once thought too ugly to be seen. Yet they were the reason she shined so bright. He could see the stubbornness ingrained into her very own DNA. A testament to his own unwillingness to let things go; to take on the battle for someone else as long as they didn't get hurt.

So much like him. So identical.

He felt a streak of fear run down his spine at that thought alone. She'd have to suffer for it. Just as he did. But goddammit if he wasn't going to do everything in his power to save her from the pain of bearing the title Wolverine.

"You love her," she stated plainly, as if nothing else mattered in this world but those three words. "Which means she's my family. We protect our own."

She didn't give him a chance to respond, scooping up her sunglasses and propping them on her nose with a huff. Maybe she didn't notice how he stood there, eyes wide as something pricked his heart. Maybe she ignored it for his sake—so uncomfortable with being vulnerable like him. But either way he couldn't deny the fact that stared right at him in big shiny letters.

She was his daughter. Through and through.

"She took my arms!" Wade's voice echoed down the hallway, giving Logan pause as Laura took the lead. "Do you know how petty that is? When I find that Scarlet Witch carbon copy I'm gonna shove my katana down her throat as I dance to dub-step-"

"Hi Wade," Laura said, cutting him off from what was about to be an impressive rant.

He spun, baby arms swinging limply at his side. "Oh good. The clone of the man I actually need. Tell me, did you find your father cause mommy has to speak to him."

Logan took that chance to follow her through the open door. His eyes took in the destruction of a once nice living room. Burn marks stretched from floor to ceiling in multiple places where Fortuna's whip had made contact. He spotted two limbs in a pile by the couch, blood pooling on the carpet as Wade steamed with enough fury to sharpen his senses.

She’d come here first looking for him. Which means she somehow knew exactly where to find him.

"Peanut!" he shouted, eyes narrowed and baby fists clenched. "Did you have a nice morning? Get some good head? Because I was attacked by the long lost daughter of Princess Diana."

Laura's head cocked to the side, brows furrowed. "Diana Prince."

"Whatever!"

"Wade." His greeting could have been better. Though he was never one for handing out sympathy to the nearest victim.

Wade ceremoniously collapsed to the floor on his back, thumping his head against the carpet as Logan stepped further into the room. The window was ripped clean out of the wall, glass scattered everywhere which showed how Fortuna found out about her variant self. Logan could practically see the fight happen in the present time.

It made his stomach sour—his heart a rapid beat against his chest.

"How long will it take for those to finish?" He gestured to the arms that currently pointed two middle fingers in his direction.

"Couple hours. Why do you ask? Want a handy?"

"Ew," Laura sighed. "I'm gonna find some food. Want anything?" When Logan shook his head, she quickly dipped back out into the hallway, leaving him to deal with the wallowing lump on the floor.

He sighed, stepped over Wade and grabbed him. "Alright c'mon."

"I'm half the man I used to be. Literally. She took the only good thing I had until Ness got back." The limp wave of small hands in his face had Logan cringing back.

"So she came here first then."

Wade barked out a laugh. "Oh you mean your ex? Sabrina the teenage BITCH!"

Logan huffed, dragged him to the couch that had long chunks ripped out of the fabric. "She's a lot older than you think mouth."

"Sorry my bad. We didn't exchange your preferred blowjob tips and trade secrets about you when she was cutting off my arms!" The roll of his eyes was involuntary, barely there, but Wade latched onto it like a dog with a bone. "Did you just-"

He turned his head, exasperation bleeding into the air. "Did he just roll his eyes at me?"

The room went still as the gears in Logan's head began to turn. The fear was now palpable enough for Wade to figure out exactly what was happening. He sat up straight, gaze latched onto the apartment across the street. The wall gaped like a wound, leaving a trail of ghastliness in its wake. Wade was surprised to see minimal bloodshed, merely the path of destruction left by a being with too much power, but the inkling of you in pain made his stomach churn.

The amount of information he extracted out of Fortuna was slim to none, but it didn't take a genius to figure out what she went after once she was done wreaking havoc in his home.

"Logan," he started, anger trickling into his heart. "Where is sweet angel?"

He sagged into the couch—grief cutting into his chest as images of your smiling face plagued his mind. No answer would have been good enough to explain what happened. His face stricken with despair—the way he clutched his hands into fists on his knees—told Wade everything he needed to know.

Fortuna wasn't here to only kill Logan. Why dismantle one life when she could bring an end to the memory of Logan Howlett in this universe too? She'd take all of them down with her if it meant enacting her revenge.

Starting with you.

"No," he breathed.

"I don't know where they would have-" He bit down on the inside of his cheek until copper burst on his tongue. "Where they'd be."

The longer he sat there, the more he felt himself sink into the despondent pit in his mind. Yet no matter how he struggled to claw at the ground, it continued to drag him in earnest. The sharp peal of laughter—of taunting words that set his teeth on edge—mimicked the sound of Fortuna.

He wanted to scream, but who would be there to listen? Who would be there to drag him from the darkness now that you were gone?

A bag was tossed to the couch, barely breaking through the murkiness in his own mind. Laura dragged the only working chair in the kitchen closer to the couch. The snap and hiss of a Coke being opened filled the dire silence. Giving Logan something to latch onto. He might tell her one day how being near her settled the raging storm in his head; the calm he could never quite acquire somehow flowing through her with ease.

He had people to help him find you; people who cared for your well being.

People who would die to bring you home.

There would be no end for them where you weren't safe. Where they didn't offer themselves up on your behalf. You were the best of them. It certainly wasn’t your fault you fell in love with a man too twisted and mangled by pain to offer you even the illusion of peace.

"I know someone who might be able to help," she said, chewing thoughtfully on a granola bar. "You may not like it."

Wade's sigh was deafening, his body flopping back onto the couch with a groan. "We are not dragging McAvoy into this. Not when Stewart is better drama wise."

She took another bite, distant gaze stuck to a busted picture frame of Wade and Vanessa on an anniversary of some sorts. Wade wore red, Vanessa wore black. They resembled a couple others might look up to. Logan used to stare at it often in his fitful nights of sleep. More so when you wandered into his life; thoughts of a future tantalizingly close to the tips of his fingers.

He wanted that with you. A life worth more than every battle he fought, every scar that didn't stick. All the fucked up things he did evaporated like steam floating off water the second he met your eyes.

You and your honey-like smile; your hand a soft yet sturdy grip in his.

"Is your universe similar to this one?" Laura inquired, back in the moment as her mind reeled with possibilities.

"Somewhat."

"In what way?"

"Places and people still exist. It's pieces of time that are different. History isn't the same here." He could recall you begging him to explain his past. What wars he fought in, what happened for him to get to this point. Yet whatever you recorded wouldn't match the history books housed in your library.

Laura nodded, downing the last of her soda. "So places. Anywhere special she might have gone that might mean something to you?"

His mind fell to the one place even he couldn’t approach. The space that housed so many memories—so much agony. But going back there would mean facing the other X-Men and Fortuna wasn't stupid enough to risk falling into that trap.

"The mansion is too risky."

He thought back to your shared room. The walls that once flickered blue with Fortuna's power as he held her through the nightmares. He thought of a small two story farmhouse that sat on the outskirts of the property line. A home Charles offered. One he intended to rebuild with the promise of holding onto a love so permanent.

His heart dropped, laying in the base of his stomach like a stone he never intended to swallow. "I know where they are."

Wade perked up, arms an inch longer than before. "Mind sharing with the class peanut?"

Logan couldn't hear him over the noise in his head; the knowledge that Fortuna would pull such a heinous act of revenge. Taking you to the place he promised her. It made for the perfect ending to her already tragic story. Logan wasn't sure if he wanted to rip his claws into the couch below, or charge out the door with no plan.

He settled for heading to the hall closet, yanking the door open with more force than intended. It slammed against the wall as he tugged free a black unlabeled duffle bag from the top shelf. After the battle to save Wade's universe, he didn't think he would need this old yellow suit anymore. At the time he was tempted to throw it out and forget it existed.

He eventually came to his senses.

Salvaging what he could and rebuilding small pieces in case the time came formed an amalgamation of what once resembled an X-Men suit. His fingers traced the silver X attached to the belt. The symbol that once held so much hope. Fortuna wore the same. A tie that kept them forever bound; forever each other's equal even in a different universe.

"You're going after her," Laura said.

"Of course he is." Wade stumbled to his feet. "We're finally getting that family road trip."

"Would now be the wrong time to say Avenger's Assemble? Or should we wait for the third act battle sequence?"

Logan felt the gaping maw of his heart grow the longer you were apart from him. An itch formed beneath his skin. The source was indeterminable but he knew what caused it to start. His entire being called out to you, begged you to survive until he managed to carry you to safety. Yet the biting horror of reality began to settle like a frozen chill in his veins.

What if he finally destroyed the only good thing about his life?

What if he was too late?

What if...you didn't survive?

You couldn't differentiate night from day anymore. After the first two hours, you were left with a stabbing pain in the side of your head—turning your vision blurry. After what felt like five or six (or perhaps eight) you gave up on trying to keep count. The veins were prominent against your hands as blood steadily dripped to the floor.

A pool of crimson agony that you could practically see yourself in.

If you opened your eyes, would you see the broken parts of a soul she seemed intent on dragging out? Would they match hers? The sound of her gravel lilted voice murmured in the corner of the room where she waited. A stoic figure of patience. Seeking penance for the harm caused to someone so innocent.

You both knew this was a fight meant for Logan. You knew only one of them walked away from whatever age old hatred still burned bright enough to burn the skin off your body.

That didn't stop you from wishing you could shoulder the burden for him. The words collateral damage didn't mean anything to you before. Merely things spouted to harm your already vulnerable and emotional state. But the longer you gave them time to sink in, the more you accepted her veracity. You would cease to exist one way or another come tomorrow morning.

This was the ugly undeniable truth.

The one thing Logan could not save you from.

"I know you're awake."

Fear curled around your heart like a fist as your eyes cracked open sluggishly—triggering a dull pain in your skull. The ability to speak was stripped from you after an hour of screaming. The hoarse echo of your voice sent a throbbing knife down your throat you chose to ignore.

So you stared at her; watched while she paced the floor in front of you—blue rolling off of her like waves from the ocean.

"He's gonna come for you," she muttered more to herself. "He'll show up."

You groaned and watched her stiffen—milky eyes flashing cerulean. The burn of the rope on your skin counteracted the searing ache in your torso. Her whip hung around her waist—coated in a dried layer of your blood. The sight sent bile up your throat even though your stomach remained empty. She stared at you as if you were someone else entirely; someone from a past life you'd never know about.

The need to inquire—to know more—began to build under your skin. But your body would no longer respond to what you wanted. The depletion of your energy affected more than your ability to speak; it tore at what little movement you had, ripping everything to shreds on the inside. You knew you looked half dead—felt like it too—but she could see the slight twitch of your mouth almost ready to open.

"Charles would have liked you," she revealed as if it were a small secret meant to be kept between the two of you. "He always had an affinity for those interested in mutant powers."

Sucking in a breath, you managed to force your voice to work. "I-I know the history."

"I bet you would." She glanced at the window where dusk crept into the late afternoon sky; brilliant hues of orange and red mimicking the pain in your body. "I didn't think I'd exist in this universe."

"You don't," you croaked. "I'm not a mutant."

Her lips curled, a small laugh exhaling from her mouth. "Yeah. I guess you're not. Maybe that's what he likes about you."

Logan's face seeped into the back of your mind; the tender smile he wore when you woke up together. The hope in his eyes that this might remain a consistent part of his life. That he may have lucked out on the prospect of getting to have you for as long as you chose to keep him.

Suddenly that part of your life felt a million miles away. Just barely out of reach, growing further in distance the harder you tried to capture it.

"I-I'm you," you mumbled, head tipping to the side. "That's why."

"No. You're not me." She regarded you with a look of pity, lips down turned in a mock pout. Ire burned in your chest with the embers of a flame lit by Logan. "You're weak."

You huffed, digging your nails into your palms to divert your attention from the pain. "I survived you."

The slap that whipped across your face was unexpected. You cried out—head falling back against the chair—as she stood over you. Power emanating from her stance. This wasn't someone to toy with. You could see how she craved to rip your tongue from your mouth; the need to silence her variant crawling beneath her skin.

But something held her back from approaching that final line.

Something scared her.

"You won't die if you do it," you wheezed, struggling to breath through a nose so clotted with dried blood. "That's not how this works."

She sneered. "And you're smart enough to know how all of this works."

"So it seems."

Her fingers gripped your wrist, nails boring into your already sliced open skin, as she leaned over you. "The Logan in this universe is dead." You stuttered out a halfhearted breath; body ringing with a plea to stop. To put an end to this fucking torture. "How did he die?"

You winced, leveling her glare with one of your own. "He sacrificed himself."

"You're fucking with me," she laughed, the sound shrill and hoarse.

Neither of you heard the creak behind her. You could barely register anything other than the rush of blood that pounded against your eardrums. She seemed to be enjoying how your body slowly deteriorated beneath the strain of the pain. Far too distracted to notice the person creeping into the house—sunglasses on her face—claws extended in a stance of defense.

"Who garnered enough fucking attention from Logan Howlett for him to sacrifice himself?" she jeered.

"His daughter."

Fortuna spun whip in hand, as a young woman stood mere feet away. Her head was cocked in interest as if she'd never quite seen two identical people in the same room. You knew her name the second your eyes locked on her form. The same dark hair, same grim tight lipped frown. The same silver claws and stubborn streak.

The sight of Laura Kinney took your breath away.

She stood before you every bit the girl that Logan made her out to be as he spoke about her in shared conversations at your kitchen table. You could see the mirror image of her father in each expression, each small twitch of her body that prepared to fight. And something flared to life in your chest.

You were angry that Fortuna was about to hurt her. Logan's daughter was ready to put her life on the line to rescue someone she'd never met before.

A missing detail which didn't appear to matter to her. Logan loved you. That was certainly enough for her.

Fortuna gaped at her—astounded by the familiar details and hints that Laura was indeed telling the truth. Not only had Logan Howlett died in this world, but he left behind a legacy that would live on for him. He saved the only important thing in his life so she could one day do the same for the version of her father who would stay.

"He's here isn't he?" she asked calmer than you expected. The whip snapped to the ground. You flinched at the sound. A fact that Laura clocked within seconds—her head tilted in your direction.

Though you couldn't see her eyes behind the pink sunglasses, you knew that fury burned in them as they would her father's.

"He sends his regards." Laura's fingers curled into fists.

"A child," she spit. "He sent a child to do his bidding?"

She shrugged, lips curling into a false grin. "Don't worry. I'm more than capable of killing you."

You felt pride flicker in your heart as Logan's cocksureness bled through her words. Where Laura went, Logan wasn't too far behind. You pulled at the restraints, the burn of ropes dragging along open wounds, but you refused to let Laura do this on her own. It seemed that the both of you had turned to the same page—her head nodding in your direction subtly.

"Well." Fortuna stepped forward, sapphire pouring off her body. "I suppose Logan's legacy won't last long in this universe."

Laura charged forward with a scream, claws slicing at Fortuna's middle only for the whip to wrap itself around her arm. With a shout, Fortuna flung her to the side—watching with an unhinged smile as Laura hit the wall hard enough to make you wince. You tugged at the rope—a hoarse cry ripping from your throat when a boot slammed into the legs of the chair.

"Don't tell me you're ready to leave," she shouted. "We were bonding."

"Fuck you," you snapped.

"Ouch." Her hand gripped your chin, lifting you to meet her expressionless eyes. "Is that the best you can do, human?"

"No," you gasped, hand scrambling for the knife at her thigh. "This is."

It embedded in her arm, slicing open skin as she shouted in rage, stumbling back into Laura's vicinity. Claws ripped through the back of her leg, cutting open her calf, as a familiar dark head of hair slid past her, crouching in front of your chair with a roar.

"You bitch!" Fortuna tossed the blade to the side, her hand forming around the open wound.

It clattered against the floor seconds before the door burst open—a man in red bursting through and flinging yet another baby knife towards Fortuna's healing body. She ducked, whip coiling like a snake in the air, slamming down with a crack. Wade shrieked, flipping to the side and ducking behind the broken couch as the familiar click of a bullet falling into the chamber resonated in the air.

"I'd say I'll put my hands up but you'd probably tie them together huh. You kinky minx!"

You winced through the grin, Laura's eyes tracked Fortuna's movements like a predator waiting when to strike. Whatever the plan was, Logan was sure to make sure someone was on you at all times. If only to get you out of the house and into the forest safely. From there it was quick to disappear.

Wade seemed to be the distraction in this case. Fitting.

His head peeked over the couch—the whip slicing over him with a sound that pierced through you. "You die tonight Deadpool."

"You don't want me. You want my buddy right outside this house." He stood, finger pulling the trigger quicker than you expected. Only for a silver and blue whip to slice through it—the fragmented pieces of a smoking bullet hitting the floor and rolling away.

"Surrender you walking condom."

"Pump the hate brakes Wanda Maximoff." Another bullet slid into place. "Peanut junior? Would you like to take it away?"

Launching herself into the air, Laura toppled Fortuna to the side with a scream, her claws slashing to get her pound of flesh. Wade laughed, striding towards you—boot effortlessly kicking his knife up and into his hand. You’d never wanted to hug the man more.

He winced at the sight of your puffy face; your right eye was nearly swollen shut from where Fortuna decided to land her hits. A pastime she seemed to enjoy, simply to hear you scream.

You wondered if you took off the mask, would you see Wade's face bleeding with rage. Or did he too wear an expression of pity.

"Logan's gonna kill her," he muttered, crouching in front of you and sliding the knife through the ropes with ease. "I've got ya sweet angel."

"W-Where is he?" You staggered to your feet, Wade's arm wrapped tightly around your waist to keep you upright. "He can't be here. She'll kill him Wade."

He clicked his tongue, leading you to the front steps, past where Laura was busy twisting Fortuna's whip around her own neck. "He knows what's at risk, angel. Believe me. I offered to be the noble sacrifice but I played that card when it came to saving this universe and there's no take backs."

"He's gonna die," you rasped, your knees buckling as he got you over the last step. "H-He can't die."

Wade gripped your arms, settling you to the ground with a grunt. "You forget who you're fucking sweet angel. He's the Wolverine."

"But she's-"

"A toxic ex who can't seem to take no for an answer. We've all got one of those."

You huffed. "She's more than an ex."

"I know." Pulling the gun free from his thigh, he made sure you were safe before stepping back to the front stoop. "But that doesn't mean this isn't a daytime soap opera." He turned to the treeline with a sigh. "You coming, your majesty or should I roll out the red carpet?"

A glimpse of the man in question stopped your heart, the breath catching in your throat, as Logan finally stepped forth. His suit was sewn with pieces of black leather (no doubt from Wade's leftover stash), a yellow X stretched across his chest now became the sole focus. Yet that isn’t what filled your body with warmth.

This time he wore the suit with pride. A glint of determination was in his eyes that once never used to exist. He stepped forward the X-Man this world needed; ready and willing to take on the legacy of a man he once loathed. You felt your heart twist violently at the sight—love pouring into your chest faster than you could stop it.

"Honey," he breathed, rushing over—hesitation and a storm of outrage clashing together in his hazel eyes.

"I'm okay."

He huffed through his nose, hands gathering you gently in his arms. "Don't bullshit me honey."

Wade's cough was exaggerated, his hands gesturing to the doorway. Laura's shouts and the crashing of furniture being demolished spilled through the broken windows—her rage matching her father's right down to the familiar lilt of her roar. She was a fighter. Just like the man who held you as if you were glass. Your pain, now a reflection in his eyes as he took in what Fortuna did to you.

"You can't kill her. She’s too powerful," you stated.

“You’re safe.” He didn’t seem to comprehend your words. Opting to press you close enough to feel his body heat sink into your frigid form. “That’s all that matters.”

Wade ducked down, pressing his face close to Logan's. "Yeah. I don't mean to interrupt your romantic hero kiss the girl moment. But what the fuck are we gonna do?"

"She can't keep going like this," Logan replied. "Eventually she's gonna have to tap out."

"Of course! Makes perfect sense. Mind elaborating for the audience honey badger?"

Logan sighed, his hand cupping your face with a pained noise in the back of his throat. "Her energy will run out. Same as Charles and...Jean. They couldn't keep up the fight forever."

"Okay but the whole freezing time business." He glanced to the side, shoulders lifting in a perfunctory shrug. "I know right, we really could have explained this earlier."

"Mutants are aware." Logan rose to his feet, leaving you to sit on the ground, your hand outstretched to keep him here. "We have to struggle but we can break free if she's weak enough."

"Wow." Wade sagged, a muffled groan coming through the mask. "That's just lazy writing."

You gripped Logan's hand, forcing him to step closer. "You're not going in there."

"Honey-"

"No." Gripping the stair railing, you struggled to your feet—eyes blazing with a headstrong fighting spirit Logan loved you for. "She'll kill you Logan. I can't lose you. I-I won’t."

His breath was heavy, hand curling around the back of your neck to press his forehead to yours. "You're not gonna lose me alright? Not today."

"Logan-"

Wade gripped your arm, drawing your gaze to him. "Don't worry sweet angel. He's got a bodyguard." You leveled him with a glare that would have sent him six feet under if his mutant power wasn't regeneration. "Have I ever mentioned that your eyes are the perfect shade of rage and violence. It's like a beautiful fucked lava lamp from the eighties."

You weren't sure if he was paying you a compliment or trying to lighten the mood. Logan sighed against your cheek, disappointment practically bleeding through his words.

"Seventies Wade."

"He would know. He's from 753 B.D." He turned. "Before Deadpool."

"A.D.," you spit, fighting the hint of a grin that threatened to bloom across your face.

"Not in this universe."

A shout tore through the small sliver of peace as Laura was thrown from the house, landing in a bloodied heap on the grass. Mere seconds passed before she was flipping to her feet again, claws extended and glasses forgotten about in the dirt. You wondered if the surge of warmth in your chest was pride or something else entirely.

Perhaps one day you'd get the chance to figure it out.

"Time to go do what heroes do," Wade said, nudging Logan as Fortuna floated through the open doorway, landing mere feet away from where you stood.

"Wolverine," she crooned, her boots a steady thump against the wooden porch. "Come to rescue the human I see."

Logan gripped your waist, moving you away from the house with quick steps. You clawed at his back to get him to stop. To keep him from leaving you behind. But Laura's hands on your shoulders forced you to remain calm—to remain on the edge of the property and watch as the man your heart screamed for walked away.

"Logan!" you shouted, fighting against the girl's hold, but the wasted energy was all for naught. There was no breaking away from a determined Wolverine.

He rejoined Wade with a darkened grimace. His claws ripping through the flesh of his knuckles as Wade pulled free the katanas strapped to his back. Your voice shouting his name set his entire body on edge; the urge to go to you, comfort the panic that filled your veins, nearly breaking his spirit.

But this was not your war and Logan would go down fighting before he let another person he loved fall into the hands of death.

"Alright," Wade grunted, cracking his neck. "Maximum effort."

Fortuna's whip snapped in the air, slicing a gaping hole in time as Logan and Wade charged. She leapt forward, boot pushing off the railing and toppling into them with a shout—a stolen knife carving into Logan's shoulder. He shoved her off, claws swiping for her neck, teeth bared in a snarl.

She ducked, foot slamming into Wade's stomach, rupturing the surrounding area with a blast that sent Logan sliding back into the dirt. He grunted, claws burying into the soil as Wade reached for his guns. A single katana forgotten on the ground.

"Pathetic," she sneered.

"Look who's talking McFly." Wade fired off three rounds, watching her roll to avoid the bullets, her hands crushing the dead grass beneath her.

She pointed to Wade. "You're first."

He laughed. "Bring it on you witch bitch."

Fortuna scoffed, glancing at Logan. "Does he ever shut the fuck up."

"Ha! Good luck with that. I can go on forever."

The whip unraveled from her wrist, rapidly slicing towards Wade—wrapping around his arm in a dramatic rendition of what already happened. This time he was prepared. Sprinting towards Logan, he rolled to the side as claws dragged down your arm. Opening a wound in her arm; blood pouring down her skin, dripping onto the grass.

“Fuck!” she snapped, knife lodging into Wade’s back as she leapt towards Logan.

His knee met her stomach, slamming her a few feet back until she landed on the ground. A groan reverberating in her chest.

Time flickered, punching them in the chest as they fought to move. Air rushed to his lungs as she stumbled to her feet—time falling back into place. Wade grabbed the second gun strapped to his thigh with a huff. The shot went off, the bullet finding its mark in Fortuna's wounded arm.

She screamed, falling to one knee—waves of blue pouring into the ground, forming a bubble of safety. She plucked at the fabrics of the universe, pulling them towards her as Wade pulled the trigger until the mag was empty. A pile of bullets by her body now trapped in light.

"Fuck!" Wade tossed his gun to the side.

Logan turned to see Laura holding you back, your face stricken in fear as you watched them battle it out. It was a struggle to have you here. To keep himself sane. He longed for you to be you close. What he wouldn’t give to take you away from all of this carnage. But you weren't safe as long as Fortuna was around.

She would always be a step behind, ready to chase him to the ends of this universe simply to watch him burn. He knew what he had to do. But the cost of making that choice weighed heavy on his chest—choking the very breath from his lungs. Wade could see it clear as day even as Fortuna began to build enough strength to keep herself going—to pull one final move.

With a shout, she swung her arms out, forcing enough energy their way to fling them into the air. Logan watched as spots began to form on his skin—time ripping away the very makeup of his DNA as she swung her whip in the air. It latched to his waist, dragging him forward until he was on his knees—body struggling to heal from something so unknown.

"Is she worth it?" she sneered, fingers curling into his hair to maneuver his head to keep his eyes on you. The struggle you put up to free yourself from Laura's grasp. "I'm going to kill her next Logan."

"No." He pushed against the vice of your whip, eyes latching onto the white streak hidden in your hair. A sign of what Fortuna had already started.

"I'll age her day by day, year by year, until she's dust."

"NO!"

She laughed, her lips brushing his cheek. "And you? You will have to live without her."

Tears stung his eyes when you finally managed to slip through Laura's hold, legs trembling as you forced your body to sprint his way. The sight of Logan's hair graying, wrinkles carving across his skin, brought you to the edge of your sanity. It ripped at your chest until blood poured from your heart. Staining the ground beneath you.

You couldn't lose him; you didn't know how to breathe without him. And you refused to watch him die from the sins of his past; actions he did not commit.

"Wait!" Laura shouted, running after you as Wade staggered to his feet.

"Angel!"

There was no thought process to your actions, no sense why you did what you did. All you could think about—all that filled your heart with dread—was the knowledge that Logan wouldn't survive this. He wouldn't be there to love you, give you the future you desperately ached for. He would never know you loved him.

That alone drove you forward with a pained cry.

Flinging yourself onto Fortuna, you sent the both of you flying a few feet away as Wade and Laura ran to rip her off you. But time stopped. Every sound stilled, and they were forced to stand and watch as Fortuna straddled your waist—her hands reaching for your throat.

"What do you have huh?" she snarled. "What the fuck do you have that I don't?"

"Please!" You punched her wherever you could reach, desperate to get her off of you. "He-"

"He what?"

"He wouldn't want you to do this Fortuna."

She laughed, manic enough to chill your heart with fear. "Who Logan? You think I fucking care? I would kill him in a-"

"CHARLES!" She froze, eyes flashing sapphire as her grip loosened. Giving you a chance to suck in air. "H-He loved you. Logan told me."

"Charles," she mumbled—a glimpse of your shared original color of her eyes coming through the expanse of white. "He's..."

"Dead." You gasped, turning to see three people you'd die for struggling against time—their bodies battling the power of someone far too corrupt. Someone who forgot where they came from; who their home was. "Your family...my family...they wouldn't want you to become this. P-Please. Charles, Jean, Storm. They didn’t want this for you."

She turned, gaze softening. "You would die for them."

Hot tears burned your frigid skin—falling down your temples and into your hair. "I would."

Stuttering out a breath, she fixed you with a gaze of someone you might have recognized in the mirror. A woman so broken by what time did to her. What the humans caused all because of her DNA. You wanted to promise that life might have turned out different if Logan stayed; that she would be safe. But even you knew it would be a lie.

There would be no saving her from the one thing that created her.

Time.

Leaning down, she pressed her forehead to yours—defeat curving around her shoulders, weighing heavy against her heart.

"Tell him I'm sorry," she murmured.

Pain detonated under your skin before you could open your mouth to respond, forcing your body to convulse in her tight grip. Scarred hands pressed tightly to your face, pinning you to the ground as her whip latched around your chest. Logan's roar became a distant buzzing sound that surrounded you as blue washed over your twisted bodies.

Her brows furrowed, eyes bleeding white as her iris began to form once more—the long lost color that matched your own gaze.

A mirror you wanted to shatter. Damn the bad luck that might befall you; this remained too agonizing to endure.

Her lips pressed to your ear, the pain ebbing from your veins with each pulsing wave. You clawed at her wrists, nails slicing through calloused skin as a scream erupted from the depths of your chest. Piercing the air and slamming directly into three chests.

People who were ripping at the ground to get to you—pulling their bodies across dirt as the curse of time began to lift from the air.

"Do better than me," she whispered, the hot drip of her tears mixing with your own.

Someone yanked her off of you, hurling her to the side with a familiar rumbled growl. You gasped for air, dragging your half limp body away from where Logan stood over her—claws a silver shine emanating with a promise.

"No!" Laura and Wade's hands clamped on your shoulders—keeping you at a safe enough distance. This time refusing to give you any leniency in your movements.

Logan lowered himself to one knee, chest heaving with stunted breaths as Fortuna lay before him—eyes wide with fear. He knew you were behind him. He could feel the burn of your gaze. But all the pain Fortuna caused began to splinter at what little mercy he might have held onto. Yet still the familiar fist of grief wrapped around his heart, reminding him of who Fortuna was.

The woman he once loved.

The woman he couldn't save.

"P-Please," she sighed, hand gripping onto his wrist, tugging his claws against her chest. "Before I hurt you Logan. Before I hurt her."

"I-" He squeezed his eyes shut to the sight of a you so broken—so defeated. "I'm sorry."

She grinned, eyes clear for the first time—weightless after such suffering. "It’s okay. I-I’ll get to see them again. Charles. Jean. Storm."

A sob wracked his body as he dragged her into his lap, hand cupping her face with the tenderness she deserved. "Tell them I'm sorry. Tell them..."

"I will," she murmured, allowing him the freedom to break the final vow of their love. "Till death huh baby?"

Your shouts of his name echoed in the background—Wade's voice mixing with Laura's—and suddenly Logan understood why he found himself here. Why he would stay.

They weren't just his family. They were pieces of his heart sliced open and bared to the ravages of the world. And he would be their protector. The one to meet what danger threatened them head on; willing to fight till his last breath.

He'd be the person he could never be for her.

"Of course," he sighed, tears streaking down his cheeks. "Till death."

"Love her," she breathed, cupping his cheek and forcing his claws to pierce her chest. He sliced through her with a choked shout, the warmth of her blood spilling over his hands. Tainting him further; breaking his already tormented heart. "Love her how you couldn't love me Logan."

"I will honey." Her eyes dragged to how you lay on the ground, Wade's body practically covering yours to keep you from getting any closer. "I promise."

Light flickered in her vision—white and blue and perfect—as Logan clutched her close. Sobbing over a woman he would forever hold the memory of. The last of his family that he couldn't save. Her lips curled into a smile—serenity glistening in her eyes—as a familiar voice echoed in her mind. Tugging her close into welcoming arms.

"Hello Fortuna."

She stuttered out what little breath remained in her chest, a tear slipping down her cheek. "Charles."

"I like it," a voice mumbled, breaking through the darkness that shrouded your body. "And not just cause Ness has one."

A girl hummed. "It's cool."

"Very superhero."

You groaned, body battling any slight movement as your eyes fluttered open with a wince. Light streamed through a grand window, the bed too soft to be yours, yet you knew who sat beside you. Even through the blurred haze of vision, Wade's face was unmistakable. Shifting, you felt everything in you lock up—a hoarse cry falling past your lips.

Hands pushed you back down, steadying you gently as you were finally able to see the other person sitting on a table, munching on some fries. She had a shake beside her—feet propped up on the back of Wade's chair. The sunglasses she lost in the dirt were back atop her head, keeping her hair back.

"Whoa there angel face." He fluffed the pillow violently, jolting you slightly. "You've got two broken ribs and a wound across your torso that would give me being ripped in half by Juggernaut a run for my money."

"W-Where's-"

"Shhh." He raised a crystal glass of water to your lips. "Nurse Wade is here to take care of you. Sorry I don't have the outfit. I couldn't get to a Spirit Halloween in time."

Laura snorted into her food. "It's July."

"That doesn't matter. Those stores are like herpes. You can't ever get rid of that fucker."

"Where's Logan," you said through a broken whisper.

The silence isn't what scared you. No, you'd been through too much to be scared by the threat of nothing but melancholy looks in favor of telling you the truth. You could handle the quiet. What sent terror into your heart was the fact that you knew before you even opened your eyes where he was. His warmth was nowhere to be found in this bedroom; it barely lingered on your own body.

The man who held your heart, who promised to always protect you, was gone.

"No," you breathed, tears welling up and once again blurring your vision.

"He didn't want to go," Laura interjected.

You blinked furiously to keep them at bay. "What do you mean?"

"Fortuna." She pointed to the window that overlooked an expanse of green.

With a pained gasp, you turned to see what she was directing you towards—eyes fixing on a clearly buried grave covered in fresh dirt. A shovel stood straight, plunged a foot into the ground—the handle covered in a stain of deep brown.

Laura exhaled heavily. "She's dead. Logan buried her after he...killed her."

The breath rushed from your lungs, anguish slicing through your heart. "He..."

Wade nodded, somber and horrifyingly quiet. "He wanted to stay sweet angel. We forced him to go."

"Why?" you exclaimed, your body trembling under the stress of waking up too soon. "If he wanted to stay-"

"He was broken. I thought when I found him it was bad. This was worse angel face." Wade gathered your hands in his, drawing you close with a sigh. "He needs to grieve her."

"But I love him," you whimpered, unashamed by how fast the tears were falling. Laura watched you with the eyes of her father—striking your heart in a way that split you in two. "I-I didn't get to tell him."

"He knew," she murmured softly. "Trust me."

Wade pressed a swift kiss to your hands. "He'll come home. I made him fucking promise to return to you. But right now he's gotta figure some shit out."

Laura slipped off the table, curled onto the end of the bed and handed you something folded and crumpled—streaked in stains of blood and ink that bled through the thin notebook paper. You took it with a shaky breath, cold hands closing around hers with a grim smile. Something to let her know that you were thankful for everything she did.

She wasn't your daughter. This you knew. But you wouldn't mind if she bestowed that title on you one day.

In fact...you hoped she would.

"He told me to give that to you," she said, eyes brighter than before.

You sucked in a painful breath, unfolding the letter with trembling hands. Seeing his handwriting was like a punch to your chest. The smudged words and crossed out lines as he attempted to explain himself in words for the first time. This wasn't his forte—you understood that—but the fact that he tried filled your chest with warmth.

Honey,

Don't hate Wade or even my kid for me not being there. Believe me I fuckin' wanted to. Almost ripped him to pieces when he told me I had to go for your sake. But they were right. You Fortuna was the only family I had left. I have to remember what loving her felt like. I need to let her go.

Wade and Laura are there to protect you, care for you like I can't right now. But I made a promise to you and her. So you can expect me back one day.

I care about you

I love you.

So much.

I'll love you till the end honey. Don't forget that.

-Logan

You clutched the paper to your chest, salt coating your taste buds as you sobbed for the man that you failed to protect. You would have died for him. He knew this. Perhaps that's why he left; to give you a chance to heal without him. To return as the Logan you met, not the one mangled by grief.

Laura moved closer, her hand shifting to clutch yours as tears glistened in her eyes. A solemn smile on her face. This is what Logan offered you. People who loved you; people who would die for you. Logan made sure that even in his absence you'd be safe—protected.

He gave you the one thing he couldn't keep for himself. The one aspect of his life he had to learn to accept.

Logan left you a family.

note: my brain is mush but i love you guys. it will get better i promise!

[ivvyela]

imagine with me, if you will, a nwh potential fix-it involving none other than the multiverse saving duo deadpool and wolverine.

i know, i know - but please, let me cook.

wade and logan now jump across timelines to "fix" things aka travel the multiverse for funsies and deal with the consequences later and somehow end up in a universe where peter parker doesn't exist, but spider-man does. and wade, blessed with the power of "i know this for the plot", immediately knows that is bull. shit. and sure enough, they find one very depressed, very lonely, and very jaded peter parker.

after much annoyance, light stalking, and following spider-man while he's on patrol, they get peter to spill how he ended up in this situation. and after hearing everything, logan breaks the silence with a simple, yet effective: "shit, kid. that... shit."

"yeah, well... now you know, so you can, like, leave me alone."

"nope, not gonna happen." wade shakes his head and tactfully ignores logan's imploring look of what-the-fuck-are-you-getting-us-into-now "i take my job as marvel jesus very, very seriously, so frankly, this is my job to fix your sorry little life, buddy. and if flat-out telling them you exist didn't work, then - "

"oh, i actually... i never told them."

"...come again?"

"i tried to tell them, but i couldn't. so..."

"i'm sorry... your best friend and girlfriend were crying, telling you to come find them and remind them of you, and you chose not to?"

"they're happy and safe without me! i wasn't going to ruin - "

"oh my god. you sweet, self sacrificial, idiot spider-baby. okay! we can fix this! we're no tony stark, but consider us your pseudo daddies for the time being, kid. let's get you your life back."

which is how one very emotional and determined deadpool, followed by a stoic, nonchalant wolverine (who, in all honesty, probably should be completely against this, but once wade commits to something, he can't be talked out of it, and the sooner he gets his fix from this the sooner he can go home, so fuck it we ball), end up in a certain cafe, all up in a poor barista and her friend's face with a cut-out yearbook photo of some kid, yelling "LOOK AT HIM! LOOK AT THIS BOY! HE'S SO LONELY! LIKE A SMALL, FORLORN, VICTORIAN CHILD! REMEMBER HIM, GODDAMMIT!"

(their efforts result in two confused and scared teens, and getting kicked out of said cafe.)

peter practically begs them to just leave him alone, that this was his choice, and he's fine with it, but both wade and logan know a lie when they hear one. they both know what being alone can do to a person, and peter is just a kid who got dealt the shittiest cards in life and at this point, it just feels wrong to leave him here without trying to do something. and maybe they both have a small soft spot for the teen, so what?

and peter knows both men can see through his broody, teenage angst front he's been putting up since the spell, and he's tried so hard to hate the two of them, get them to hate him so they would leave, but they're not budging, so really, there's no point in trying to push them away, right?

and so, he lets them in. he learns that while logan is stoic and intense and kinda terrifying, he's also someone who just wants to do the right thing for the people he cares about. he's also lost people, and he blames himself, but he's come out on the other side. he would tell peter about his daughter, laura, who wouldn't let him wallow in self pity because she is good, better than he has ever been. he never saw himself as a father, but she's still around, so he must be doing alright.

and at first hearing it would result in a pang in his chest, memories of thai food after walking into a smoke-filled kitchen, assurances that things will work out when everything feels hopeless, a tombstone that can never convey everything she was, but now... it's nice to hear that logan still had someone after losing everyone.

so, peter listens to logan's stories. in return, peter tells logan all about his mom.

and wade was brash and loud and conceded and really, really annoying, but he's... no, that's it. he's all of those things, but in a weird way, it's like all those bad qualities merge together to make him a good guy. and yeah, he can walk away at any point, he has absolutely no obligation to help peter, but he does it anyway.

("nonono, don't you dare make me some selfless hero type, kid. i know for a fact that every deadpool has a peter. i'm doing this for the me in your world."

"you're... huh?"

"bottom line, i'm a selfish bastard. i'm doing this for me, 'kay?")

peter didn't fight it. he's had experience with seemingly self-absorbed, deflecting type heroes.

wade doesn't replace him, not even close, but... still.

maybe peter will never get back what he lost. but, for the first time, peter sees a light at the end of the tunnel. that, maybe, he can stop being just spider-man, and he can start being peter parker again, too.

(and if there's a barista talking to her friend about how it's weird that two guys would show up holding a photo of an odd customer from weeks ago, demanding they remember him, and despite not knowing him she felt something, and her friend couldn't help but agree, well... that's neither here nor there.)

[iamnmbr3]

I was thinking about how fun it would be to do an It's A Wonderful Life type AU where postwar Draco, consumed by guilt, wishes he had never been born and thus realizes that actually his life mattered more than he thought. And as I was thinking about how a fic like that might play out I realized just how much might change and just how central to Harry's narrative Draco really is.

Draco is so intimately connected to so many things that happen in the story. If suddenly Draco doesn't exist, potentially Harry doesn't join the Quidditch team in book 1 and doesn't catch the snitch with his mouth or almost die from Voldemort cursing his broom. He still likes flying and might join the team later though, but he's no longer the youngest Seeker in a century.

Or in book 2 without Draco Harry doesn't speak Parseltongue in front of everyone because Draco isn't there to conjure a snake and consequently the whole school doesn't conclude that Harry is the heir of Slytherin. This also means that Ginny doesn't mention Harry's ability to diary!Tom and so Tom doesn't try to use her to lure Harry into the Chamber since he has no reason to think Harry would be able to open it. Hermione possibly also doesn't figure out how the voice that Harry's been hearing connects to everything and thus the golden trio may not ever realize that a basilisk is on the loose. Tom might end up deciding that the best way to learn about Harry is to fully possess Ginny or to drain her life force and permanently come out of the diary. Potentially she ends up dying and no one ever knows. Harry doesn't get the diary and thus isn't able to surprise Lucius enough that he unthinkingly tosses a sock in Dobby's direction, meaning Dobby is never freed. Dumbledore may not ever return to the school though probably he does and probably Lucius's threats to other school governors still get exposed.

In book 3 depending on whether Harry ever ends up joining the Quidditch team, the whole plot with the Firebolt in book 3 might never happen. Harry's head also doesn't get seen in Hogsmeade which means Snape doesn't drag him into his office and force him to turn out his pockets which means Lupin doesn't find out about the map and take it from Harry. Lupin consequently doesn't follow the Golden Trio into the shrieking shack in the end of the story. Ron and Harry might also notice Pettigrew on the map but they might not. Depending on how things go down in the shack Sirius might not get a chance to tell his story and prove his innocence. Snape might even attack him and hand him over to the Dementors. Potentially Peter doesn't set out to bring Voldemort back. Lupin still probably loses his job because of the curse, but he might not end up outed as a werewolf. Peter might also have been brought back to the castle and Sirius's name might have been cleared.

In book 4 without Draco, Rita doesn't have a secret source about Harry that lays the groundwork for attacks on his character in book 5.

Assuming Voldemort eventually comes back he no longer punishes Lucius through Draco. Instead he likely directly orders Snape to kill Dumbledore. Because Dumbledore is still dying Snape probably does. Harry has no path to getting mastery of the Elder Wand (assuming we go by the canon version of wandlore and we don't believe the wand actually chose Harry). If Harry makes it to the end of book 7 he dies in the forest. Narcissa probably sees no reason not to say he's still alive. Voldemort kills him for a second time and he stays dead. Though quite possibly Harry is immediately identified and killed at the Manor since Draco is not there to lie for him. Also, Dobby may never have been freed and might not be there to help save him.

Of course, lots of the canon events could still happen and things could just play out a bit differently. But this really highlights how critical a part of Harry's narrative Draco is. From a fic POV I think the most fun would come from exploring how much worse book 7 would have played out without Draco there.

[stari-hun]

Isokania

The biggest issue between Kakania and Isolde is a lack of understanding between the two. Kakania enjoys her close bond with Isolde they consider each other the closest person to them. But they don’t have an understanding of each other. Isolde thinks Kakania is the answer to all of her problems, he golden key, and almost idolifies her at times, and Kakania sees Isolde as a good person going through constant tragedy. The two of them mutually have a false idea of who the other truly is. In 6.17 Kakania talks about Isolde’s art of channeling spirits and how she uses it to be the star of Vienna. However what Kakania doesn’t know is how Isolde doesn’t stop channeling when she’s off stage, the CGs of Book 6 even ellude to how Isolde sees ever place in public view as a stage. Kakania has never once considered that Isolde wasn’t the person she portrays herself to be, and Isolde refuses to consider that Kakania isn’t the one she’s been waiting for.

Isolde and Kakania are also extremely stubborn people. Kakania is stubborn as a job hazard of having to fight for her own credibility, and Isolde’s natural temperament is reserved stubbornness. She decides what she believes in and without consulting others or stating her stance, Isolde sticks to it resolutely. Kakania acts in accordance to what she knows and learns, she's very stubborn about her morals and values of justice. Kakania is headstrong about her way being the correct way while Isolde is the same. Isolde is a reserved person as a job hazard of being a celebrity. Not only has she actively seen what stardom can bring through Playwright, she was raised to expect and ignore it. As such, Isolde is very resolute in who she places her trust in. Once she’s decided to consciously let someone in she waits at her Door for them to come in to her inner world. The tragedy for them is that she decided to let in someone who already thought she had seen Isolde’s inner world. Isolde refuses to believe anyone could ever understand let alone heal her besides Kakania. Isolde doesn’t believe anyone can save her besides Kakania, even when Theopil predicted Isolde’s mental state would deteriorate and sought out a way to help her.

Another reason they were doomed is the fact Kakania believed too much in Isolde. Kakania sincerely believed in Isolde and chose to believe that the rumors surrounding her following in Evangeline’s footsteps. To her credit, at that time the rumors weren’t true. But I feel like the issue also wrapped around to the fact Kakania was an unprofessional therapist to Isolde. @schneiderenjoyer talks about it at length in their live analysis. She underestimated the depths of Isolde’s mental instability because she didn’t think there was any larger problem than depression from the rapid deaths in her family. As a follower of Freud’s theories and an arcanist, Kakania should’ve been more aware that disrupting a person's ID and SUPEREGO could lead to consequences. She figured Isolde’s tears and initial confession about Theopil coming at her while on fire was the depths of her ID or unconscious instinct without morals. But Kakania is an arcanist, in 1914 no less, she had to face a lot of legal issues concerning people using dirty tactics either to tear her down or get their way. She believed in Isolde too much that her worst would be intrusive thoughts about harming herself due to guilt because of her proximity to Isolde. But Kakania didn’t consider her past in an environment of violence and family disposition.

Isolde also lacks proper coping mechanisms. There are quite a few arcanists with mental illnesses we see in the game however they all have some kind of coping mechanism to help self-soothe. It's not the same situation but Mesmer Jr. talks about how her anxiety is uncurable, but she has a lot of anxious tics to self soothe which we see her do in the series. Semmelweis who's similar to Isolde, with her condition growing worse with time, shows in [Echoes Into the Mountain] that she consistently reality checks her surroundings and mental state. Isolde however, doesn't have any coping mechanisms outside seeking out Kakania for her comforting presence.

It’s unclear exactly when or if she got acting lessons from Mr. Karl (if she had it be between 13-15), but Isolde uses acting as a defense mechanism. The Star of Vienna is a persona for her and something she’ll always fall back into when panicking instead of actually feeling her emotions. She'll separate herself from her urges and emotions, or tell spirits to possess her “whether willing to or not” so she can have a break. Isolde is unable to be clearly open, as shown in her character event. She acts Kakania if she noticed a door in her house, personifying herself as an unnoticeable within the Dittarsdorf house. Even after Kakania doesn’t give her the answer she wants, Isolde ignores it in a way. Stating Kakania will still be “the golden key to open her door.” Isolde was likely content to wait until Kakania finally “saw her,” or until she manipulated Kakania into being her key.

[dmercer91]

i would, lh43

you and luke really like to piss each other off.

or

four times you and luke almost kiss and the one time it finally happens

this is toxicity, angst and a little fluff all rolled into one. enjoy! <3 (7.6k) this is very much not proofread

one.

you were sure luke hughes was one of life’s greatest mysteries. to put it lightly, he was sweet until he wasn’t. 

you’d warned him before the two of you started dating in your shared freshman year that you’d been through a lot.

you warned him that sometimes you needed a minute alone, that sometimes you could self-destruct, and that sometimes you lost yourself in your brain and that someone else would take over for a while

he promised you that he’d work with you, that he understood what you were explaining and that he could surely handle it. 

he promised he’d do anything he could to help you get back into your head whenever you felt out of it, that he’d keep his head on straight for the both of you so that the two of you could work through rough stages.

clearly you hadn’t prepared him well enough, or clearly he overestimated his level headedness. 

it sucked for the both of you that you still had to see each other every day, regardless of whether or not he was on the road, cause you’d be there too. 

you’d been warned by every girl in every stage of life that dating in the workplace was a horrible idea. you promised them it was hardly work, you weren't even around that much. you were wrong again.

when the two of you broke up, you opted to stay with the team as the media intern. after all, you agreed to be friends. 

that went sour quickly, because all the arguing that took place in the confines of his dorm or your sisters apartment carried onto your friendship, and consequently in the halls of yost.

the more the two of you would argue, the more you both got petty. 

today was no different, and you weren’t trying to work him up on purpose, but when the opportunity arose you took it and ran.

a trend on tiktok had started, talking about red flags. the monday question you chose was something along the lines of ‘what is your weirdest / stupidest red flag’ 

most of the players responded as you expected them to - something like mixing jams on their toast or putting hot sauce on their bagels.

you weren’t even expecting him to acknowledge you, because since the breakup, luke had avoided monday questions, as well as your camera, altogether. 

you weren't sure what had pissed him off today, or what was going through his brain when he decided he was gonna be sour right off the bat, but his response was surely something.

“my ex girlfriend is an obsessive bitch,” you covered your mouth to keep yourself from laughing. you knew he was just being an asshole for the purpose of trying to get to you, but the words truly sounded unnatural coming from his mouth.

luke figured you would delete the video and move on with your day, get back at him with some mean comment another time, but instead you decided to take it a little further than he was intending.

after practice was over, you sat in the cubby a few down from his and began to edit the videos you’d taken of the boys together, and you saved it. then, you took the new video and added the clip of luke to the end, playing on full volume and repeating itself as you pretended to adjust the beginning to the previous clip of dylan running away.

the few guys that were left in the dressing room looked at eachother, and luke was already staring you down.

the rest of the team had learned to tune the two of you out. seeing as you were friends with most of them even before you dated luke, none of them chose sides and they all believed that eventually the two of you would get tired of pissing each other off and quit it. alternately, luke would just leave for jersey and peace would be restored. 

“what? why are you looking at me like that?” you mumbled defensively, eyeing him like he was a weirdo.

“you’re putting that in the actual video?” you raised an eyebrow, smile etched onto your face like it was drawn with a sharpie. what you weren’t expecting was for luke to take a deep breath, and look away.

you continued to edit the clip, up until the remaining players had all left yost and you felt luke’s eyes burning into your skull again.

he stood up calmly, and walked over to you.

you looked up at him and stood as well, slowly backing out of the doors in the dressing room. he followed, speeding up to keep you at an arms length

“delete that, y/n, i swear to god,” you realized he was trying to corner you, and though he physically outmatched you any day of the week, he was failing spectacularly at it.

you did your best at playing keep away with the umich media phone, and backed your way into the visitors dressing room.

“delete it? fat chance. i was actually thinking i might put it up, i can never seem to get content of you unless-“ you groaned as your back hit the wall, luke holding you against it with his hips

“unless i’m too pissed to shove the phone out of my face?” you grinned, slinging your arms around his neck and leaning into his touch, your chests pressed taught to each other so you couldn’t slip from his grasp.

“you know, if i get early onset back pain, i'm blaming you. now can we quit it with the dramatics? i have a very charming video of you to edit for the tiktok page” luke just pressed you closer to the wall, ignoring the grin you gave him to show how much you’d actually been liking the closeness.

“you wouldn’t,” he tried to grab the phone from your hands, placed behind his neck, but you were quick to tuck it into your bra so he couldn’t access it.

“i would.” his jaw clenched and you kept straight eye contact, loving how irritated he was getting so quickly.

“baby,” he stated, taking a deep breath.

“i was being a dick, and i’m sorry. but we don’t need to make that a public thing,” you bit your lip, pretending like you were contemplating it before you replied to him

“we’re using baby again?” he licked his lips, grabbing your hands from his shoulders and holding them.

his eyes softened and he paused before using what was probably the sweetest tone you’d ever gotten from him

“if you want me to use baby, yes, i’ll call you whatever you like”

“i’m not falling for that,” his soft, convincing face fell flat and his eyes went from hopeful right back to angry and endlessly frustrated

after a few moments standing there waiting for him to find a new game plan, you bit your lip and started messing with a few of his curls

“you ever miss me, lukey?” he pulled his head away from your hands, the gentle aspect of your touch giving him an unneeded reminder of  the fact that you could be a sweetheart, you were just choosing not to be

“not a chance in hell” you smiled to hide the pang in your chest, but he saw through you, holding the back of your head

“you’re always right here annoying me, hm? no time to miss you” he corrected, tracing circles on your scalp with his thumb. you poked your cheek with your tongue, looking down for a quick second before ultimately looking right back into his eyes, trying to read what he was thinking

this is what you assumed he was talking about when he used to always tell you he’d figure things out, that you’d always make up after a fight - that he’d look at you like this and see that you were struggling 

that he would feel what you were feeling for even just a split second and correct himself, even if he was lying, just to cover up the ache in your chest.

this, to you, was confirmation that he could read you like that. that he can see through any mask you put up and had truly just given up on you. 

he sighed, and you saw his eyes move to your lips, then back up to your eyes. he was leaning forward, and just like that, he was pulling away and clearing his throat.

“could you please delete the video for me? m’ sorry about how i spoke to you” your entire body felt cold without him against it, and you wished whatever thought in his mind that made him want to kiss you would’ve fucked off, so the two of you could’ve stayed pressed up against each other forever.

“i’m not that mean, lu. i’ll delete it” he smiled and ruffled your hair, walking away as quickly as possible.

it bears repeating; you were sure luke hughes was one of life’s greatest mysteries.

two

your favourite part about going to michigan, as well as being close with one of the sports teams, was the parties. 

you weren’t even sure how they pulled it off, but you couldn’t think of a single time you’d been invited to a umich party and didn’t have a night worth remembering (even if you could barely remember it).

tonight was no different, and it started with mark and ethan fighting over who got to be your partner in beer pong. 

you decided it would be a best of three challenge, and the loser was stuck with luke, who was notorious for only having aim once he was plastered enough to faint. the winner got to be with you, who had the ongoing win streak among the sophomores.

first was a game of rock paper scissors, that was promptly won by ethan, seeing as mark always went rock. 

he’d even mentioned before the challenge that he always lost since he always picked rock, so you’d told him to simply not pick rock - he did it anyways.

the second round was seeing who could shotgun the fastest, which was ultimately taken by mark when ethan got cocky and gave him a three second head start.

safe to say, mark had been almost done by the time ethan even had his lips over the hole in his can.

the third challenge was a headstand contest, mostly because you just wanted to see the two of them try to uphold a headstand for more than five seconds.

mark took that one on the guise that ethan had cheated and used the wall to keep himself up. if you could have made them both lose, you would have.

however, when you decided that ethan was in fact a cheater, mark cheered and tossed you over his shoulder, leading the group of you back to the beer pong table 

ethan was pouty about having to pair up with luke, and luke was pouty about having to be around you, but you and marks energies were off the charts regardless.

you all decided that you’d have to drink ethan’s cups, mark would have to drink luke’s, and vice versa.

luke started, and sunk one ball, but completely missed the other. 

mark quickly downed the drink and took the balls, missing the first off the rim of a bottom row cup, but sinking the second one perfectly. 

luke drank nonchalantly and handed the ball from his cup to ethan, who just barely missed both of his shots. you grinned to yourself, centring yourself to the table before taking your shot.

your turn was similar to marks, but your first ball had bounced just before the cup at the top row and landed into luke’s hand.

ethan drank the cup you got for your second shot, sending you a playful glare. 

“this should be you right now, marky. nobody said we couldn’t use the wall” you rolled your eyes, feeling mark sling his arm around your shoulders 

“i won fair and square, eddy. you’re just butthurt cause you suck at shotgunning and got too cocky” luke quickly took his turn so you’d all shut up, missing horribly on both shots.

you raised an eyebrow at him, silently wondering how his on ice hand eye coordination translated this horrendously in throwing a ping pong ball��

mark got two of his shots, but none in his balls back attempt, and luke quickly drank, a little more urgently this time around. 

ethan got one this time around, and you happily drank the contents of the cup, licking the foam of the beer from your lips once you were done. 

you also sunk two balls, but you got your second shot with balls back, leaving three cups on ethan and luke’s side and eight on yours.

ethan pouted before drinking his first cup, taking a short pause before cramming the next two one after the other. 

he caught his breath before looking over at you with beer dripping from his chin 

“i should’ve made hughesy drink your cups,” you giggled, and luke slapped him on the shoulder with a glare.

when the game came back around to you, they only had two cups left, and you got them both.

mark cheered loudly, rattling you around by your shoulders as you laughed at his reaction. 

you and mark had always been close. something about his energy just gave you the sense that you’d never have to stress about him. you were very much the ‘call each other babe platonically’ type of friends. 

he was easygoing and he just wanted to have a good time, but he was still a good friend if need be.

luke apparently hadn’t caught that memo, cause he looked like he was about ready to stab his teammate.

his jaw was clenched tight and he was just watching the two of you celebrate with complete dread on his face, while ethan finished off his beer

you picked up on it right away, and decided you’d chance luke being unbelievably pissed at you if it meant he might admit to himself he still had feelings for you.

“are we playing again?” you asked, looking up at mark who shook his head, pulling you away from the table.

“what? you want to get up to something else?” he grinned, earning a soft smile and a push to his chest.

“dance with me?” he nodded, grabbing one of the remaining cups from your side and pulling you towards the group of students essentially using the living room of soph house as a make out spot.

luke wasn’t one to dance, but mark was too drunk to care and you didn’t think he’d be leaving your side anytime soon, so you took advantage

he wasn’t half bad, the two of you mostly feeding off each other rather than the music. that was until his drink ran out, and he wanted another one.

“you want a beer, babe?” you nodded softly, tilting your head up and leaning it on his shoulder.

he smiled, kissing you on the cheek and noting that he’d be right back, quickly disappearing into the swarm of bodies towards one of the coolers.

“mark? really?” it was luke.

rather than bite back, you went with it, knowing he might be more annoyed if he thought you were genuinely going out with mark

you hummed, turning to face him. “he’s a sweetheart. maybe you could learn a thing or two” both of you knew that what you were saying was utter bullshit. regardless, luke was irked.

“are we thinking of the same mark?” he slid a finger into the belt loop of your jeans and pulled you forward, keeping you close to him and simultaneously letting you know his strength.

“handsome? fluffy hair? pretty solid with his mouth?” luke scoffed, looking behind you to make sure mark wasn’t almost back.

when his eyes came back down to yours they were dark, and he was wearing a harsh glare.

“you wouldn’t. you’re not” you smiled, almost giggling at him

“yeah, but i would, though. is your new girlfriend not at this party? thought i saw her working one of the football players. is this your thing? getting one upped by other athletes? is there an embarrassment kink im not aware of?”

before you could say anything else, his hand was over your mouth and he was grumbling at you to shut up

“not that it’s any of your business, i broke up with her. you need to start watching your fucking mouth” you pulled away from his hand, but he still had a tight grip on your jaw.

“if it was full maybe i’d stop talking,” you smiled, your facial expression almost challenging him

he licked his lips, thumb swiping over yours slightly in a way that made your heart jump out of your chest

he was leaning in and pulling your face to an angle where he could connect your lips, before his eyes flashed up and he saw mark coming back with a beer in one hand and a full bottle of liquor in the other.

“maybe your sweetheart mark will be up for that” he gave your jaw a squeeze before pushing your face away from his and walking off.

you put on a smile, turning around to see mark taking a swig of straight vodka.

“my lady,” he grinned, handing you your beer

you bit the cap off, drinking some of it before you hummed, pulling him towards you by the collar and resuming your dancing, back to his chest

“gimme some of that,” he giggled, putting the bottle in his hand up to your lips and guiding you through your swig

“luke came n’ saw you?” you nodded

“yeah.”

three

one of your favourite things to do in your free time was barge into soph house with absolutely no warning.

today, it was cause you and your other roommate had been momentarily kicked out of yours and your older sister's shared apartment so she had it to herself for her one year anniversary.

you announced your arrival when you walked in, your friend trailing behind you awkwardly while the boys shouted simultaneous greetings from the living room

“i brought a friend. it’s my sister's anniversary and there’s a metaphorical sock on our door,” your comment earned you chuckles from the group, and when you walked into the living room you scanned the furniture to see if there were two open spaces.

luke had been sitting by himself, mackie and dylan were sharing the loveseat, and ethan and mark were sharing the bigger couch. 

you tilted your head and squinted at ethan, who had been taking up two and a half cushions. he grinned in return, further stretching himself out so he’d been getting into marks personal space as well.

you opted to physically drag ethan from his spot, over so he’d just been taking up one cushion instead

he glared at you playfully, fighting back against your pushing until you were stuck pushing back against each other, causing the both of you to break out into laughter and for you to fall onto the couch

“scootch, edwards,” you worked out in between giggles, finally getting him to move over and sitting up yourself so there was some room for your friend 

when she sat, it was almost on top of you, since the couch wasn’t meant for four, and you could almost sense luke’s ears perking up like a dog being offered a treat

“you know if there’s not enough room over there i’m more than happy to share” he patted his lap, looking right at your roommate with a smirk playing at his lips.

you were quick to glare at him and shut the idea down, while mark pulled you into his own lap so your friend would have enough room, and hopefully so you and luke would drop it. 

your friend adjusted and then eyed luke, and then you

“i take it that’s luke,” you immediately slapped her arm and glared at her, knowing this would give luke enough ammunition to piss you off for however long you were at sophomore house 

you couldn’t even properly find time to warn him to forget he ever heard that before it started. 

“aw, baby, you tell your friends about me?” you smiled sarcastically, feeling mark grab the back of your shirt so you didn’t lunge at his teammate

“fuck right off, warren,” luke’s jaw ticked, and he opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by dylan 

“i’ll sit on your lap, lukey!” the group laughed, and luke tried to hide his smile. 

the sophomores had become extremely accustomed to changing the subject or interrupting you and luke when the two of you fought, seeing as you were over most days of the week

now that the room had become less tense, everyone was partaking in their own conversations.

you, ethan, mark and your friend had been talking about a class the four of you shared, while mackie, dylan and luke talked about the upcoming series against minnesota.

that continued until you felt your phone go off in your back pocket and pulled it out to see a text from your sister, telling you that you could make your way back to the apartment.

below it, to your shock, was a silenced text from luke.

from, luke hughes → kitchen?

to, luke hughes → ?

you looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed and heart pounding, and he was already looking at you.

you blinked and moved your eyes away, turning your head to mark who’d been deep in concentration listening to ethan.

“hey, my sister texted, we’re gonna get going” that caught the attention of dylan and ethan, which made mackie turn his head, and, well, luke had already been staring at you.

mark frowned, caging his arms around your waist to hug you. 

“it’s still early, you can stay,” you heard a jumble of voices agreeing with mark’s statement, and you could feel luke’s gaze burning through you.

you looked down at your roommate and she shrugged, since she’d accustomed pretty well to the sophomores already and wasn’t exactly dying to leave

“i’ll stay for free beer?” luke smiled to himself and made his way to the kitchen quietly, knowing nobody would really notice him while they were cheering at your words

you offered to go get everyone their bottles and got up, ruffling marks hair slightly before you walked over to their fridge and took out six beer, luke already sipping on one.

“you ask me over here to argue without getting interrupted?” luke grinned softly, taking three of the bottles and setting them on the island along with his own, nodding for you to do the same with the other three

you complied, and as soon as they hit the counter you were being backed up into it, his hips pinning you and his arms locking you in place 

“i just wanted to talk,” he explained, looking down at you with a sweet gaze that made your stomach turn 

“you know, you could’ve had mackie or duker sit on the other couch, fuck, you could’ve even pulled up a chair from the island or sat on the ground! but you just let him pull you into his lap like you're his?”

you rolled your eyes, trying to push his arm off the counter so you could squeeze away from him and bring everyone their drinks, but his grip tightened. 

“i’m talking to you, y/n,” he added pressure with his body so he could use a hand to make you look at him.

“how many times do i have to tell you i’m not sleeping with any of your friends?” you defended and he shrugged 

“i never said you were, i just pointed out that you two seem real fucking comfortable with each other lately,”

you sighed and cupped his neck with both hands, thumbs messing with the curls that fell behind his ears

“lu, nothings happening. nothing's going to happen. im not fucking mark just like you’re not actually gonna fuck my roommate,”

he didn’t react much, just kept staring into your eyes. 

“if not my friends then who are you with?” you smiled and shook your head 

“none of your business, hughesy.” he laughed dryly and moved his hand from your jaw around to the back of your neck, your faces so close his nose was brushing against yours.

your eyes both drifted to each other's lips, and you cleared your throat and backed your head away before he could kiss you. 

he moved off you and grabbed his beer, standing on the other side of the kitchen, now.

“maybe i’ll see you around your place, y/n,” he smirked before looking over at your roommate who was laughing at something dylan had said, and heading back to the living room 

“you wouldn’t,” you yelled after him.

“i would!” he called back, leaving you to groan to yourself and pick up the beers for everyone 

four

“adam! shea!” you smiled, trying to stand up off the bench you were on to go greet your friends, but tripping over the air and immediately deciding that you would be staying on the bench.

the two boys gave each other weird looks across the street from you, deciding to make their way over.

the two boys being luca and shea, who were obviously quite confused.

once they made their way there, they came to the conclusion that you were incredibly, extremely, outstandingly drunk.

“i want whatever she’s having,” luca chuckled, knowing he and his brother did not look alike in the slightest.

seamus slapped him up the back of the head, helping you to sit up properly and then taking his own place beside you to support your torso.

“dude, shut up. call mark, or eddy, even. we don’t know how long she’d been here” you were looking up at him, absolutely delirious and telling him about your childhood pet hamster that was named casey (like him!)

mark was down at the bus stop you were all sitting at in record time, now kneeling in front of you and trying to get an answer out of you as to why you were mind-blowingly wasted at two pm on a tuesday

when you just continued to murmur about nonsense, luca spoke up

“maybe we should bring her to luke?” seamus and mark both turned their heads to him very slowly, eyebrows raised and annoyance glaringly obvious in their eyes, and he lifted his arms in defence 

“i’m just saying! notice how all of their arguing is like, ultra petty? he never says anything that actually means shit. he definitely knows what's going on with her,”

they both thought about it, ultimately coming to the conclusion that it couldn’t do anymore harm than good - luke wasn’t a big enough dick to punch down, so maybe luca was right.

they looked at each other, “this is the worst idea anyone has ever had in the entire history of the university of michigan,” shea stated, already helping you onto your feet and having luca hold you up from the other side

“yeah,” mark nodded, texting luke a very vague message so that he’d be home and in the living room once the four of you got to soph house.

when you did, it was safe to say luke really did not want to have any part of it.

“no.” he shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest while he watched you fuss with seamus when he tried to set you on the wrong couch cushion, apparently. 

“wh-” mark tried to plead his case, but couldn’t even get a word out.

“no. not a chance, mark, just have her sleep it off, or something,” the two of them watched as luca brought you a water and you tried to convince him that you did have a water, only for him to open the lid and be hit with the smell of liquor. 

“hear me out,” mark started, giving luke a hopeful look and earning a confirming eye roll in return

“your friend needs help, and-” 

“your friend”

“fine, be like that! your ex, that you’re still in love with, by the way, needs help, and you’re the only one of us that has a chance in hell at knowing what it is that made her drink away her brain on a random fucking weekday, by herself, on the street,”

the room went silent, and even you had stopped rambling upon hearing the tone mark was using.

“so, if you could please just fucking talk to her for a minute to see if she gives you an idea? something? tells you what’s up? that would be glorious, luke,” 

luke clenched his jaw but looked over at you for a quick second, caving and nodding slightly 

“i’ll talk to her. alone, though,” he grumbled, and mark patted his shoulder, nodding to luca and seamus to go over to the kitchen 

he sat next to you, and you looked up at him, bringing your knees to your chest. 

“are you okay, y/n/n?” he asked softly, tilting his head at you. you blinked, clearly on the verge of blacking out

“luke,” you stated simply, earning a sad smile from him 

“what did i tell you about drinking to forget, hm?” he reached around you, burying his hand in your hair and massaging your scalp gently 

“said no,” you replied, barely above a whisper. you were hiding from his gaze, now.

he watched you for a moment, trying to see if there was anything on you to help him out. 

his eyebrows furrowed at the sight of your phone case, the polaroid that had been in the back of it since before he knew you now flipped so you couldn’t see what it was.

“can i see that?” he asked, pointing to your phone.

you handed it to him reluctantly, watching as he peeled the case off and slid the picture out from under it.

it was a picture of you and your father. you were just a baby, and your dad had been wearing a party hat and feeding you a bite of cake 

the back read; dads 31st birthday! 02/07/04

he turned your phone around and knocked his knuckle against the screen, reading the date once it lit up

tuesday, february 7

“oh, baby. cmere,” he mumbled, pulling you into his lap gently and holding your head to his chest.

your body shook against his as you sobbed, still painfully aware of the occasion no matter how inebriated you were

he held you still until you calmed down, and when he opened up the shield he’d made with his arms he found that you were sound asleep against him, face beet red and soaked with tears

he adjusted you slowly, lifting your arms around his shoulders so he could carry you without waking you up.

he looked over to mark who nodded with an appreciative smile, then carefully carried you upstairs and towards his room.

he set you down and took off your shoes, then grabbed a water bottle and some medicine for you, setting them down and slipping into bed next to you. 

you found your way to his chest and slept peacefully while he zoned out, brushing his hand through your hair soothingly.

when you did wake up, it was slowly and difficultly. it had been a few hours, your mouth felt dry and your head felt heavy.

you felt dizzy, but not from the hangover. from luke, holding you close to him.

you let out a noise of confusion, and luke stiffened, looking down at you.

rather than pay mind to the millions of emotions coursing through him, he decided to focus on sitting you up and getting you to drink some water.

you just listened, waiting to ask what the hell had happened until after you were feeling a little less undead.

“uh, luca and shea found you by one of the bus stops. you called luca adam, so they came up to you, n called mark” you looked down, tears brimming your eyes.

“oh.. okay,” you whispered, fidgeting with your own fingers awkwardly.

he gave you a minute to compose yourself before setting the polaroid on your lap 

“he would’ve been fifty today,” he stated softly, looking at where your eyes would have been had you been facing him.

you wiped your face roughly, groaning to yourself while luke silently begged you to look at him

“maybe we can take a little trip to go see him, yeah? i’ll stop at the store and we can get him a card n’ some flowers,” he offered, rubbing your upper back soothingly 

“you’d do that for me?”

“i would. or i can explain everything to mark, and he can take you, if you wanted?” you shook your head quickly 

“no. no, uh,” you sniffled, taking the water he’d gotten you from his night stand and sipping carefully from it 

“the whole reason i like being around him so much is that he doesn’t know everything, and he doesn’t need to know everything,” you explained, finally looking up at him with glossy eyes and a red nose

“i can zone out for a minute and he won’t ask me if i’m okay, he’ll just slap the back of my head and tell me i need a nap,” you chuckled 

you’d made it a point to keep the shitty aspects of your life away from mark. 

he knew you’d been through a lot, but he didn’t know any details and he never asked about it, respecting your boundaries 

“it’s easy around him, you know?” luke nodded slightly, a questioning look in his eyes 

“i wish it could’ve been that simple with you, but there are things that cant be kept from a partner the way they can from a friend, it’s different,” 

the two of you sat in silence for a minute, luke having opened the bottle of ibuprofen for you and handing you two to take 

once you sipped away the weird feeling in your throat with water, you gave him a hopeful look

“are you still up to take me?” he smiled sadly and nodded, slowly moving from his bed and over to his closet.

“here,” he handed you a hoodie and his varsity jacket, nodding in a way that told you to put them on. 

you stood carefully and put the sweater on, overwhelmed by the smell of him lingering on the collar 

the jacket was both too big on you but a perfect fit, the bottom landing a little above your knees and the sleeves covering up to the tips of your fingers 

you put your shoes back on and gave him a look before going over to the bathroom, scanning the counter until you found something that could suffice as a face wash 

you pulled your sleeves up and washed the mascara from your cheeks, then grabbed a clean towel to pat your face dry.

you went to go cup your hands under the cool water to drink before some mouthwash, but you spotted the toothbrush you kept here while you’d been dating luke in his corner of things 

your lips parted and you blinked, almost thinking it would go away once you opened your eyes again. 

when it didn’t, you took the cover off the top of it to find it in the same condition you left it, so you rinsed it well before using it. 

luke walked out of his shared room, now in a hoodie of his own, and froze when he saw you

you avoided his eyes, pulling your hair from your face while you spat out the toothpaste and then rinsed your mouth with water. 

you pulled your sleeves back down and walked over to where he was waiting on the stairs, flicking the light off and keeping your head down 

“i, uh, just kept forgetting to toss it,” he cleared his throat, eyes flashing over to you and quickly moving away

you just nodded, making your way down the stairs and seeing the three boys who had brought you home playing video games on the couch

shea was the first to notice you, smiling to himself at the sight of you drowning in luke’s clothes.

he nudged marks knee with his own to grab his attention, nodding over to you and luke who’d been awkwardly standing there

mark looked up and grinned at you, setting his controller down and getting up to trap you in a bear hug

“how’s the head, dumbass,” you smiled bashfully, resting your face against his chest and hugging him back 

“throbbing. thanks for coming to get me,” he hummed in response, ruffling your hair and moving away from you 

“you’re bringing her home?” mark asked, eyes directed at luke

he looked at you and you answered for him

“we’re going on a little road trip. be back in a few hours,” mark tried his best not to let glee take over his face too obviously.

he sent luke a knowing look, a callback to their earlier conversation where mark had outright exposed him for still being in love with you

you smiled and waved to shea and luca, who returned the favour, luca yelling after you as you walked away with a “you kids have fun! wear protection!” which earned him a slap on the head from seamus. 

the drive to the grocery store was quiet, luke’s bluetooth playing quietly through the speakers of his car and you humming along to some of the songs you knew.

the two of you opted to grab something to eat from the deli as well, and luke offered to pay for both the meals and the card and flowers you’d gotten for your dad.

you were reluctant, but he had blocked you away from the debit machine when it was presented to you, so you settled for slipping a twenty into the pocket of his jacket so he’d get it whenever you took it off and gave it back.

you weren’t opposed to the silence, but sharing it with luke did make it a little more uncomfortable than it should’ve been.

you were dreadfully aware that the two of you did need to have a good talk, and work out whatever it was that had torn your friendship to bits after the breakup, but maybe that's better off happening later on.

when he pulled into the parking lot at the cemetery your dad had been buried at, you looked over at him before getting out

“thank you for doing this for me, lu,” he nodded sweetly, mumbling a soft “of course, baby,” in response

your heart fluttered at his tone, as well as the genuine use of ‘baby’, and you gave him a close-lipped smile before opening the door to his car and grabbing your things, waiting for him to get out with you.

the two of you walked to your dads headstone, sitting on the grass by it and laying the flowers and the card.

“if you want a minute by yourself, i can-” you grabbed his hand before he could move to stand up, shaking your head and looking up at him with teary eyes 

“just, stay,” you breathed out, and he nodded, wrapping his free arm around you and squeezing the hand that he’d been holding 

you cried silently, staring at the stone with tears streaming down your face, leaving lines of red from the irritated skin.

you felt luke start to gently brush his thumb along your knuckles, and you grimaced to yourself, looking down into your lap to try and keep yourself together 

luke frowned, pulling you into his lap and cradling your head, one hand still holding yours 

you took a deep breath, torso shaking as you squeezed his hand like you’d been getting your first tattoo.

when you looked up at him, you saw the luke you knew at the beginning of your relationship, and not the one you constantly bickered with. 

he pushed his nose next to yours, lips nearly brushing against each others, but he waited for you to initiate it. 

instead, you pulled away and tried to move away from his hug, heart aching in your chest and guilt taking over your head 

“i’m sorry,” you whispered, opting to lean your head into his neck since he hadn’t loosened his grip. 

“no, it’s.. it’s okay, y/n,” he sounded unsure, but the words eased your mind nonetheless 

“i can’t go through what we did again, i can’t keep going in that circle, luke, we suck for each other,” you explained, pulling your hand from his and beginning to mess with the sleeves of his jacket 

“i can be better at that, y/n/n, i want to help,” you shook your head, finally managing to move off him 

“you said that last time, and you lied. i don’t blame you, luke, i was shitty too. but i think we’re better off as friends,”

he pursed his lips, nodding. he knew you were right. 

+ one

“have you ever been to an nhl game before?” ellen asked, getting soup ready for quinn, who was recovering on the couch. 

“uh, no, and i hardly had time to pay attention to any of the wolverines games, i was always editing,” you chuckled awkwardly, knowing your knowledge of crowds at sporting events was very limited and you’d likely be caught sitting with jim looking incredibly confused. 

you knew you would feel out of place, especially at a playoff game. 

luke wasn't even aware that you were in new jersey, let alone that you’d be in attendance to his first playoff game.

you had finals and things to do for the team’s media page during his first nhl games, and though you weren’t dating, you knew he wanted you there for them due to the devils jersey he had sent you after he signed his contract.

not only did you still have things to do in ann arbor, but you definitely could not afford a place to stay or plane tickets to new jersey.

then, ellen had messaged you with the news that she’d be stuck babying quinn for the next while, and offered you her ticket to the game along with help for your plane tickets.

truly, it was the least she could do, as her son hadn’t shut up about you since the moment she got to newark, and she could no longer stand hearing him complain about how much he missed you, only to correct everyone when they referred to you as his girlfriend.

the game could not have been anymore hectic. it ended 8-4 devils, but with four combined short handed goals, the canes rookie goalie being subbed in, and luke getting two points.

the rock was loud, but the energy felt less overwhelming over time and you got used to the cheers and yelling eventually.

you went with jim to wait for jack and luke, neither of which were expecting you.

jack came out first, and completely neglected his father as he greeted you with a hug, asking how you’d been and when you got to town.

you were still hugging when luke made his way out, eyebrows furrowing at the sight of a pair of arms around his brother’s waist.

when he got close enough to see that it was you, you were promptly pulled away from jack and lifted into luke’s arms, feet a few inches off the ground from how tightly he’d been hugging onto you.

“oh, jesus. hi, lukey,” you giggled, squeezing him back just as tight. you hadn’t been wearing the jersey, knowing the broadcasts had a tendency to pan to jim up in the stands and not wanting to make a big deal out of it

“how long have you been in jersey? how did you get here? where did you get the ticket, y/n, what the fuck” he rambled, a big smile etched onto his face during the whole ordeal.

he set you down but kept his arms around you, rocking the two of you back and forth while his older brother and dad watched in amusement.

your face went completely serious, and you tried to keep it that way as you spoke “oh, well, i came down to help with quinn after his tonsils and your mom offered me her ticket,” luke shook his head, ruffling your hair and holding your head to his chest 

“i hate you,” he mumbled as you laughed against him.

“no, you don’t” you pulled back a few inches, grabbing his wrist and leading him to the exit jack and jim had already started making their way to.

“no, i don’t,” he pulled back on your wrist, bringing you back into his chest so the two of you were looking at each other.

he lowered his face and kissed you, and for how long overdue it was, he was very tame.

it was gentle, and slow, and he’d been gliding his hands up and down your hips soothingly. your hands came up behind his neck to mess with the hair at its nape and you pulled away for air, but went right back in.

when the two of you finally pulled away completely, luke was blushing madly and you were hiding away in his neck.

“that’s.. certainly one way to prove it,” you breathed out, chuckling slightly.

“can i prove it some more on the way home?” he raised an eyebrow, tilting your head back up to face him.

“with your brother driving us? you wouldn’t,” he grinned, shaking his head.

“i would. you underestimate how long i’ve been waiting for that,”

[hawkdaddy1111]

FLOWERS FROZEN IN TIME

Gojo x reader Hanahaki disease Part 1

Summary: The consequences of a heartbreak could cost you your life. (Hanahaki disease small fic)

A/N: Finally writing this trope!

Tags: Graphic description, Injury, blood, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/comfort

Word count: 2.1k

MASTERLIST - Part 2

Can one ever imagine the feeling of branches growing within a body?

Branches that slowly break into your trachea, poking and blocking your airways, feeding itself from your utter discomfort, and eventually casting you away from your own body.

As though you were nothing but soil to be used up and discarded.

Where flowers bloom in the darkness of your chest, petals unfurling in places meant for breath and blood. They grow lush and vibrant, fueled by the oxygen you exhale, yet robbing you of the same breath you so desperately need to survive.

Can one imagine just how unfair that is?

When your right to breathe is simply taken away, not by some external force, but because your heart, in its foolishness, chose to chase after the one person who could live without casting a second look towards you. The one person who, in your wildest dreams, might care, but in reality, moves through life with the weight of the world on their shoulders, leaving you unnoticed in their shadow.

So you'd cough and cough, trying to let the air you deserve in, but all that comes out are those accursed petals— so delicate, so beautiful, yet drenched in blood and despair.

Feeling the tingly sensation at the back of your throat all the way to your chest, bloody petals coming out of your lips, ragged breaths and drowning in your own sorrow.

How can a love so pure turn into a deadly curse?

Just how painful that is?

Just how absolutely deranged does one have to be to get cursed by their own self? 

That would be the question that's echoing within your mind.

One that you could not find an answer to as you felt the heaviness of your breath and the flowers tearing you apart from the inside out.

And one that was a direct response to the heartbreak that has lasted for a century.

How do you reconcile with the fact that you did this to yourself?

He was part of you, and he was willing to take away the part he had owned.

And despite the pain, despite the choking petals, despite everything— you still love him. And maybe that’s the cruelest part of all.

Maybe what's cruel is your heart.

You don’t know how much time you have left. Days? Hours? But as you feel the flowers growing stronger, you cling to the hope that, somehow, he’ll see. 

That he’ll notice before it’s too late. 

That in the end, the love that’s killing you will be the love that saves you.

Even if that hope is as futile as your next breath.

At the sound of your name, your head snapped up, heart pounding in your chest as you looked at Principal Yaga. His eyes were narrowed, concern etched into the lines of his face, and it took a moment for your mind to catch up to the fact that he’d been speaking to you.

“Is something bothering you?” he asked.

“Huh?”

“We were discussing the matters of your upcoming mission and you just…” he trailed off, watching you carefully.

You blinked, trying to clear the haze in your mind, “Um yeah, right… sorry,” You murmured, forcing a small, strained smile. 

“Seems like alot is in your mind, are you sure you can take this mission?”

You immediately waved him off and straightened up, “No no absolutely, it's my duty after all. Please, go on with the intel.”

Yaga studied you for a moment longer, and you held your breath, praying he wouldn’t push further. Finally, he nodded, though you could tell he wasn’t entirely convinced. “...As I was saying, after thorough examinations and reports, we concluded that this curse targets other curses. It shouldn’t be a hassle to exorcise it.”

“Why would we exorcise a curse that actually helps us?” You asked.

Yaga tilted his head as he considered your question. “It’s not as helpful as it sounds. It may feed off the cursed energy of other curses… as a way to fuel its own. But keep in mind that its cursed technique is to attract curses and eat them. That alone is dangerous for any human around.”

“Right…” you echoed, your voice distant as you reached up to rub your chest.

“Here’s the report written in case you’d like to refresh your mind,” Yaga said, sliding a folder across the table towards you. You reached out to take it, but your hand trembled slightly, and for a brief moment, you saw his eyes flicker with concern again. You quickly tighten your grip, pulling the folder closer to hide your unease.

“Good luck,” Yaga added, his tone pointed. You nodded once more, clutching the folder to your chest as you stood.

God, you were acting so suspicious.

Just as you closed the door behind you–

“Oooh? A mission?”

Today was really not your day.

You sighed, glancing at the white haired sorcerer who grinned at you stupidly.

“Yeah.” Your voice was neutral despite the code blue going off within you.

“Let me see.” Gojo’s presence was suddenly too close, his tall frame leaning in over your shoulder as he reached for the folder.

“Hello? Personal space?” you grimaced, twisting your body to shield the folder from his grasp. But he wasn’t having it.

He reached out again only to get his hand slapped.

“Ahhh, come on, don’t be like that,” he coaxed, a grin in his voice as he continued to push closer, “Let me see, let me see—”

You knew it was useless trying to stop him. Gojo was nothing if not persistent. With a resigned sigh, you loosened your grip just slightly, allowing him to slip the folder from your hands.

“There we go,” he said with a satisfied hum, flipping open the folder with one hand while the other stayed draped over your shoulder, keeping you anchored in place.

As he skimmed through the contents, you tried to focus on anything else— the ticking of a nearby clock, the faint murmur of voices from down the hall—

“Piece of cake, though you sure you can handle it?”

“I don't appreciate your blatant belittling of my abilities.”

“Oh yeah? Cause you're so big and scary, might as well just scare the curse off.”

“At least I don't need a blindfold to be intimidating.”

“Ouch.”

“I'll be on my way.” Perhaps you said that in order for him to take the hint and walk away, but just as you started walking forward, he fell into step beside you wordlessly.

Despite not being able to see his eyes, you could almost feel them on you.

Hell, you could feel them decoding each and every part of you, it's like his eyes were some kind of X ray that'll reveal anything in a matter of a glance.

All thought the silence between the two of you wasn't awkward, what was insufferable is that he made you all the way aware of what you're really feeling within.

When you reached your office, you hoped he would finally leave you in peace. But instead of stopping, he followed you right to the door. You tried to ignore him as you fumbled with your keys, but his presence was impossible to ignore.

You searched for your key.

Shaky breath.

Where's the damn key?

Nevermind, found it.

Blue eyes.

It fell.

Eyes blurred.

“You know I can feel you staring,” you said, turning to face him. There was no shame in his expression, no hint of embarrassment at being caught. Instead, he looked conflicted, as if he was wrestling with something he couldn’t quite put into words.

“It’s just that…” Gojo paused, his head tilting slightly, eyebrows furrowed. Almost as if he were trying to catch a glimpse of something even with his blindfold.

You raised an eyebrow, silently urging him to continue. But instead of speaking, he reached out slowly, his hand hovering just above your chest. You felt a flicker of panic, your breath catching in your throat as his fingertips brushed against the fabric of your shirt.

Hand on your chest.

And you froze.

Your breath stilled, your body rigid under his touch.

The weight of his hand felt overwhelming, pressing directly against the flowers that had begun to take root deep inside you. The very petals stirred, and you could just feel their unforgiving edges.

And the amount of self restraint you're enduring for you to not cough could earn you a medal.

Gojo’s expression shifted, a flicker of something unreadable passing over his face. His free hand moved toward his blindfold. But before he could pull it down, you instinctively grabbed his wrist, your grip tight and almost desperate.

“What are you doing?”

He paused, his hand still hovering near his blindfold. As if he finally realized how off he was acting, slowly, he let his hand drop.

“A-ha hehe ,” Gojo chuckled softly, though the sound was more hollow than his usual laughter. “...thought I saw something.”

“Well, you're imagining things…” you muttered, turning away from him quickly, your fingers fumbling with the key as you tried to unlock the door. “If you could excuse me—”

He called your name, softly, the sound of it halting your movements. It was rare for him to use that tone, and it sent a shiver down your spine. You glanced over your shoulder, meeting his gaze even though you couldn’t see his eyes.

Your heart sank as you realized how poorly you’d chosen your words earlier. Both of you knew that Gojo’s Six Eyes were anything but faulty. They were perfect, inescapable, always seeing more than anyone else could. If he thought he saw something, he probably did. And there was no way you could bluff your way out of that.

“But if I'm not… you'd tell me, right?”

You hesitated, the key slipping in your grasp as you turned to fully face him.

“You're okay, right?”

he pressed, taking a small step closer.

“Satoru,” you began, his name catching in your throat. the weight of his words mixing with the discomfort in your chest. His expression softened at the sole mention of his name, “I’m okay, just… tired, that's all. It's nothing new.”

No words were exchanged, just the loud silence of him observing your appearance in case something was out of the ordinary.

Finally, he sighed, the sound heavy with resignation and concern. “If you say so,” he murmured, reaching out to ruffle your hair.

His fingers lingered a bit longer than usual, quite literally not wanting to let go.

“Don’t get soft on me, will ya?”

“Oh, fuck off,” you muttered as he laughed, pushing his hand away as you finally turned the key and opened the door. You shot him a sidelong glance.

“See ya soon?”

“Later.”

You stepped inside your office, closing the door with a soft click behind you, the barrier suddenly feeling both too thin and too thick.

You stared at the door, your hand still resting on the handle. You could still feel the lingering presence of his cursed energy, a faint but potent signature that hovered just on the other side of the door.

And you could still feel his cursed energy right between the door you had between the two of you.

So you waited and held your breath.

Seconds ticked by, each one stretching into an eternity. 

And soon, you heard the faint sound of his footsteps receding down the hallway, the pressure of his cursed energy began to fade and your hands started to shake as you started loosing your composure.

And that’s when it hit you. The moment his presence was gone, the dam inside you broke. You doubled over, clutching your chest as the first violent cough ripped through you, your whole body convulsing with the force of it. Cough after cough, a cycle that never seemed to end.

Your eyes welled up, tears spilling over as you gasped for breath. The flowers inside your chest seemed to expand, their roots digging deeper, choking off your airways.

Your hands shook violently as you gripped the edge of your desk, trying to steady yourself, but the room spun around you, the edges blurring as your vision darkened. Your knees buckled, and you collapsed to the floor.

For a moment, you just lay there, curled up on the cold floor, your body wracked with coughing fits, your lungs burning as you fought to pull in even the smallest breath. You could hear a whistle whenever you breathed, you could feel the pain of it all.

You were exhausted .

God.

Were you just imagining it but did the pain almost disappear as he touched your chest?

Just how much longer can you endure this?

[eurydicees]

oh dont apologise i loved your essay 😭 and i 100% agree with everything. Theres such a innate theme of choices and consequences in wicked the musical and its so fascinating to me how choices made by all the characters have such profound consequences at the end. And fiyero’s choices are no different in the way they alter the trajectory of multiple characters.

He is really the only one i can think of who sacrifices everything for elphaba and does it all willingly. How do you like elphaba and then dislike the one character who was ready to give up his whole life and everything that came with it for her 😭

Twitter is very binary in that regard honestly, and its such a shame that they miss out on some pretty interesting character analysis about their favourite characters bc they decide to be so rigid and weird about other characters who had an impact on their faves. Couldnt be me lol, making multiple threads about a character you hate. I also think something else is at play here but dont wanna say it publicly lol but given your other responses i think you’d probably agree.

And yes totally agree about dividing the film in two parts - i can only hope the film watchers stick around for part 2 and see fiyero’s whole arc

thanks for the ask! also i wrote another fiyero ted talk. if i were like charles dickens or whoever and i was getting paid by the word to write about fiyero, i could be so goddamn rich btw.

anyways, choices and consequences!!!!! like that's the whole thing!!!!!!! and the way our choices affect and change other people!!!! fiyero isn't an exception to any of that!!!!

you're so right that fiyero is truly the one who makes the ultimate sacrifices for elphaba. like glinda loves elphaba, she absolutely does. but she isn't able to take on the work and life that elphaba chooses in defying gravity.

when it comes to the things that are most important to her, glinda prioritizes comfort and reputation over, like, morality and principle. and the thing about glinda is that she actively makes this choice. she chooses not to go with elphaba. she wants elphaba to succeed, but she's not brave enough to join her. in order for glinda to find the bravery to take up the work elphaba starts, she has to lose everything that actually matters. and she has to be complicit in her own losing of those things.

fiyero loves elphaba to the point of sacrificing all of those things that glinda can't resist. the day with the lion cub, and elphaba's general influence on him, changes fiyero profoundly in a similar way that she affects glinda, but fiyero finds the bravery to act on all of that. the difference is that he doesn't get the choice to go with her until mid-act 2 after wonderful.

in thank goodness, there's that one exchange between fiyero and glinda where they say smth like "you just can't resist all of this" "well who could?" "you know who could, and who has." and he's talking about elphaba, he's talking about how she had all the love she ever wanted at the tip of her fingers when she met the wizard, and she chose to let it go because she saw the ugly parts of the wizard's world. and this exchange is so clearly boiling it down to "elphaba resisted the temptation of being universally/publically loved and glinda did not." which tbh is something so in character for a person who has never had that, and a person who has always had that and thus doesn't want to leave it behind.

ok i was going somewhere with this but i don't remember where. just. fiyero isn't a perfect character. and for SURE the choice to erase gelphie's romantic subtext from the book when adapting it for broadway was an act of homophobia. but if we're just looking at musical canon, fiyero is brave enough to give up everything first to save elphaba, then to go with her, and then to protect her. and so-called elphaba stans don't think that's good enough. which is CRAZY to me.

also like. he's literally not the comphet love interest. sorry you didn't mention that but i keep seeing people throw those words around and like that's not what's happening here guys. elphaba loves him. she sings a whole song about it. multiple, even.

comphet implies that she mistakenly thinks she loves him because society has molded her into believing that's how she should be (fyi if anyone's experiencing that, it's glinda but i digress). elphaba, who notably has never been able to comply to the mold society makes for women, because she's never been pretty white woman enough to be afforded a place in that society? you mean that elphaba?

guys elphaba just...loves him. that's all there is to it. she loves him when she realizes he's more than he thinks he is, more than the airs he puts off. she loves him when she feared he might have changed, she loves him when he proves he did change--for the better. she loves him when he sticks by her, when he chooses her. she loves him when he's a fucking SCARECROW. ("go ahead, touch, i don't mind" "you're still beautiful" lives in my head rent fucking free).

when she has her breakthrough "okay. fuck this world that has never been good to me, if you want me to be wicked, i'll be wicked" moment, it's because she loses fiyero. she gets betrayed by nessa, and she fails dillamond, and she loses fiyero--and it's then that she loses sight of what good she had begun fighting for. it's a love for fiyero that drives most of no good deed (broadway songs of all time btw). like sorry but you dont sing someone's name like that if you don't love them. that's just musical theatre rules. trust me i was a theatre major.

anyways. sorry for that detour. back to the point. twitter treats everything as so black and white which is crazy because this is a revisionist musical about how evil isn't black and white. like?????? whatever. imagine being so bitter about a character you dislike that you want to change fundamental pieces of your favorite character so that he isn't relevant.

look. gelphie is great doomed yuri and i support that so hard. but dont try to tell me fiyero isn't deeply important to elphaba and to understanding elphaba's character. tbh the love triangle here isn't fiyero choosing between glinda and elphaba. it's more like elphaba choosing between glinda and fiyero and what either of them represent to her (glinda and working within the system, or fiyero, and abandoning it).

and hot take maybe but like ultimately--as someone who has never been conventionally accepted, as someone who has been hunted down to be murdered, as someone who has been the victim of a smear campaign and propaganda against her character/intentions, all of which was in part driven by glinda--she was always going to choose fiyero.

i respect gelphie shippers, i do. in another world, maybe one without the wizard, they could've been so happy together. i'm with y'all. but given canon, even if all others fall, i will be the last fiyero defender standing. god i hope movie-only fans watch part 2 and at least learn to RESPECT him. at the bare minimum. please. please. please.