#love in its purest sense feels so wrong to her <3

[laniidae-passerine]

I don’t think Tashi’s look of disgust when Art kisses her knee is actually about him. It’s at herself. Their dynamic is so entirely shaped by power, by the fact that Art is lesser than her. She’s better at tennis, better at keeping her control, better at getting Patrick to fall into her bed. It’s the uncaring idol and the tortured devotee. Hell, it’s outright stated; she asks “what am I, Jesus?” and he says “yes” like it’s obvious. Even the way they sit in that scene shows how Tashi is a religion to him, kissing and bowed over her lap like in prayer. Which is why, to a woman who buys into that dynamic, who also thinks of herself as God to Art’s worshipper, it’s so disgusting that she truly does love him. Tashi adores him. Not even close to as much as she adores tennis, but she does. Right after that scene she goes and asks Patrick to throw the match - because if Art loses, she leaves him. And she doesn’t want to have to leave him. It goes against what she knows. God is not supposed to make sacrifices for mere mortals. Achilles is not meant to swoon at the soft weakness of his heel. But here she is, seeing the chip in her armour and thinking it lovely anyway. Hence the look.

[shmowder]

I am grateful for the work you wrote, it made my heart flutter, especially the part with Maria! It's very tragicomic, I couldn't help but smile when I read it. I have some ideas about the other characters you suggested. For example, Lara. She gives me the impression that she creates the most convincing illusion of domestic comfort. You can't even call her homewrecker, because she is, in fact, home. It seems to me that the relationship with her is not charged with sexual energy, but rather compensates for the longing for family warmth. The lack of love in its purest, platonic manifestation. She'll be sentimental enough to give her poor partner something small to remind her of, like a thimble.

Vlad Jr. my beloved. At first it seemed to me that he would not fit into such an affair because of his pragmatic approach to things, but the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. It seems to me that taking someone's spouse away is also an act of self-affirmation for him, an opportunity to declare himself. He does not like to get his hands dirty, so he will probably resort to threats through intermediaries if his courtship is not eloquent enough. I wonder what his father's reaction will be on that melodrama?..

And, well, Daniil is clearly head over heels. He will shower his beloved with promises to take them to the Capital. A little bit of an old-fashioned romantic escape scenario won’t hurt, is it? Although I think it’s mostly a manipulation strategy to bond with person even closer.

By the way, have you ever consider to try match-ups with Pathologic characters? I think it will be an interesting activity <3

Yours faithfully, 🧡 anon.

I like your take on these characters anon, I'm glad you enjoyed my previous post.

Lara's moral compass tells her that as long as you're unhappy with your current marriage, then the relationship you two share is completely justified.

Ever since her father passed away, she tends to overextend her abilities and spread herself thin, attempting to help everyone everywhere at once. Lara sees a corpse in each person she interacts with, mourning the living akin to the dead.

The world is too big, life is too unpredictable, and she desperately needs to feel in control. Establishing a shelter, giving away material goods, trying really hard to make a difference, to leave this world a better place than she found it, even if it cost her blood and tears.

Maybe that's why this affair didn't feel anything like close to the notion. It started with Lara approaching you instead of the other way around, mentioning how unhappy you seem these days, how she heard the rumours about your loveless marriage.

Offering you a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen, a place to stay the night if living under the same roof with your cold spouse is too draining. Don't worry, no one will get the wrong idea, how could they ever when Lara is known to host any soul looking for a temporary home until they can get back on their own two feet.

At least, that's how it started. She'd tell herself that you just happen to bring out her overprotective nature, that it's simply nothing more than her wanting to be a good neighbour.

And you find yourself enjoying her fussing, even her nagging is akin to a melody. To have someone worry so much over you that they get frustrated and angry because you didn't wear a jacket out in this cold weather? It was a new world in comparison to your apathetic spouse.

Gradually, you've come to think of her as home.

Her presence with you over the breakfast table just felt right, grocery trips spent together as you carry the bags, and she asks for your opinion on which flavour of jam to get this week.

Mundane tasks like hanging the laundry to dry or doing the dishes feel less taxing now, especially with Lara nearby with you in the room.

The domestic married life you were promised but robbed out of, the safety and comfort... It's the sweetest dream you've ever lived.

One which you bitterly wake up from each time night falls and both of you go to your own separate bedrooms. How wrong this felt to be alone at this vulnerable hour of the night, reminiscing about the way her hand held your own as she wished you a good night.

How her nail pressed against the wedding ring you're still wearing.

The tightness around her polite smile.

Lara only realises her true desires when you eventually have to return back to your house, to leave this home you've built with her because people might talk otherwise. She rationalises it as her only wanting your happiness. Her priority is to get you out of this cage, this soul-draining marriage and set you free... even if you don't choose her, as much as that idea stings.

People love and trust Lara; she is renowned for her generosity and soft heart. If there was one person in this whole town who could organically minimise the damages to one's reputation caused by a divorce, it would be her.

...and if she had to exaggerate some unsavoury stories about your spouse in order to make you seem in a much more dire situation, then so be it. Their reputation will tank most of the damage, yours will come out intact in the end.

And maybe... you'd like to take refuge in her house again while this whole situation simmers down? She will protect you, she promises.

You'll always have a home with her, much like she finally found her own home with you. And maybe after a week or two, instead of letting go of your hands after wishing you a goodnight, she tightens her hold and leads you to her bedroom.

Nothing of note happens that night. The two of you finish your nightly routine, like always, in the same room instead of two separate ones this time.

You can't shake the giddy feeling from your chest, and Lara can't stop glancing at you with her big eyes every other minute as if she's reassuring herself you're really here.

The two of you get under the covers, she lets you hog most of the blanket.

The candle is snuffed out.

As the morning rolls around, you wake up with her face pressed against your chest. Your arms wrapped around her, her legs intertwined with yours.

And it feels just right.

-

Vlad Jr. is paying someone to kill your spouse.

Not in a yandere way, it's nothing personal he reassures you. He's just built like this.

How did you learn about his plan? Because he just told it to you, directly.

The two of you were simply having lunch when he nonchalantly informed you about this, in-between sandwich bites.

Listen, think about it. The best solution is usually the easiest, divorce and reputation management is hard. Getting your spouse out of the picture would be the most beneficial arrangement for both of you.

Well, yes. It is sad that they have to go out this way and have their life cut short. But like he said, it's nothing personal, really.

If anything it's a pretty straightforward deal and he'll make sure to tell the hired butcher to make it a quick clean kill so they won't even have to suffer for long.

The Saburovs won't even get on your case, people die all the time in this town and... you and your spouse are simply not important enough to cause a stir over, no offence. You know he loves you, right? But facts are facts, and this is actually rather convenient for him that you're an average person. It's why he can take you on these lunch dates around town freely and no one bats an eye.

What's that? You don't want them to die?

Ah, well that is quite the pickle huh? And he's not just talking about the one in his sandwich.

There is always option B, leaving the town together. He never planned to take over the family business, and he heard the Capital is lovely at this time of year.

The two of you can start over there, get properly married and well... live life.

But this also means you'll have to abandon all of your friends and family here and never ever return. It is literally social suicide to just up and go sneak into a train in the middle of the night and leave everything behind.

See how inconvenient that would be? I mean where are you two supposed to spend your holidays then if he can't bring you home to celebrate with father and sister?

Which is why the first option is clearly the easier one, so what do you say? Let him kill your spouse? pretty please?

If you feel sad about it afterwards, don't worry. He will spare no amount of money to cheer you up.

His father is fully supportive, surprisingly. Love is love and all of that.

-

The ever noble Daniil Dankovsky would directly go to your spouse to settle this matter over with.

His courtship with you has been rather public, a scandalous affair even as he spoke plainly about his clear affection for you to any person who asked. He abhors lying and doesn't see a point in pretending that what the two of you share is anything but love.

You care for him, and he cares for you too.

Daniil's convictions and reputation are a double-edged sword. They could either shield you from the social repercussions of infidelity or spell your doom and dig your grave for you.

Your friends are aware, your family is aware, and even your own spouse is aware. The one thing preventing your reputation from spiralling down the drain, is the fact Daniil is a gentleman and took it upon himself to knock at your family's door and explain himself and his intentions to them.

It's very hard to deny his sincere feelings. By all definitions, he is still a respectable and educated man. The Bachelor is walking on thin ice.

Daniil paints himself as the clearly superior choice. His methods are a little unorthodox but surprisingly effective as the most conservative of the townfolks find his crusade to earn the right to properly marry you fair and square rather than start a sleezy affair, a little admirable.

Who cares about losing face in this nowhere town when you'll gain double if not triple the prestige in the Capital just by being his spouse?

What really matters is your family, he understands. And he'll make sure they love him, he'll go above and beyond to show that he is the best son in law they could dream of.

Daniil would be one of the people who would hold themselves back from crossing intimacy boundaries while you're still married. A simple kiss on the back of your hand is the most touch you'll ever feel from him.

He just doesn't like it, the label of an affair. As if it is his fault that someone much less qualified just happened to arrive sooner. If anything, he has always been an advocate for divorce despite it still being a controversial topic.

He genuinely believes that if he proves himself and his noble intentions, then people would eventually understand that if he asks for your hand directly and courts you with honour and dignity, then things must go his way.

Because at the end, you two love each other and he knows that. This isn't some desperate bachelor chasing after shadows, this is a man with a solid conviction and a clear goal, a man on a mission to win over his beloved and earn the right to call himself your husband.

-

I think between all the characters you could cheat with, Georgiy Kain is simply too golden of a choice to pass on.

The judge, you're cheating on your spouse with the man who officiated your wedding himself.

Also, a whole judge, an epitome of ethics, a founding father of law in this town, an advocate for justice.

He'd be content with keeping your affair more on the hush hush side, so would Victor.

Any character with something major to lose or who knows their relationship with you doesn't fit the label of socially acceptable, would keep your relationship a secret, and think it's the best if you stay married.

Some characters like Aglaya Lilich might do it for your own safety, so you won't become a target for the powers that be as long as you have a cover relationship.

Or General Block, who knows there is a big possibility he won't make it out alive from the war. He'd rather you never become a widower, let him be a fleeting love instead.

Anyway back to the judge, it would be extra delicious if the affair started on the wedding day itself.

You're dolled up in your wedding attire, be it a fluffy white dress or an elegant sleek suit, a traditional ceremony outift or a casual and breezy wear.

The church is empty, you've arrived her much earlier than everyone. You can't help the feeling of emptiness inside you, gnawing at you that this is the wrong direction to head towards, that this couldn't be what your life amounts to.

But you swallow it down, the acidic mouthful of resentment and regret.

And you see the judge in there, much earlier than the rest. He always liked things to be done as soon as possible, it's only thanks to him that the town legal system is running at full efficiency at any hour of the day.

You look at him and force a smile, a polite greeting. People respect this man beyond believe, some marvel and aw at the Kains as if they were gods walking amongst men.

Yet you can't bring yourself to care at this moment or give more than a tight smile.

You look so pretty, so lovely... it's supposed to be the happiest day of your life.

So why...

You're crying before you realise it, soft tears streaming down your cheeks. Salty and bitter, mournful of a future you've lost, of a doomed life awaiting you outside.

And he simply... gets it. You don't have to speak, you don't have to explain your situation. He knows, of course he does.

He doesn't hush you, he doesn't rush you. He treats you with the dignity of a capable adult even in your most low moments, with the respect of an equal to him rather some lost fawn awaiting rescue.

How shocking it is to receive this treatment after your family and friends pressured you into this marriage because they saw no worth in you otherwise, no hope for you or your future. They didn't care for your brilliant mind or your fragile heart, they thought being someone's spouse was all that you could amount for.

And there he is, the judge himself, appeasing you as someome of equal importance and intelligence to him.

A man of many talents, a grand philosopher and an inventor truly seeing you for the unpolished potential that you are. The hidden gem amongst the rubble, witness the soul beating and screaming caged by your bones to remain content with this average unfulfiling life.

Someone who believes in you, that you can overcome this on your own. You don't need his help, you never needed anyone's pity or grace.

But his affection? Oh, that he can offer you. To let him be the one to steal away your kiss on your wedding day before your spouse ever could.

He's more than content with just one, a simple short kiss that made him feel things he thought were long gone with his youth.

But you pull him into a second then a third, a hunger awakening inside you. A lust for genuine companionship and understanding rather than sexual desires, a lust to taste the lips of someone who shares your mind, to never to have to belittle yourself or water yourself down.

To be understood, a longing to be seen for the brilliant complex soul that you are.

Rather than someone's spouse.

How the wedding day goes without a hitch, you've regained your resolve tenfolds.

How you receive a congratulations letter for your beautiful wedding the next day, an invitation to the Kains' residence, addressed only to your name.

-

I loved writing this, I hoped you enjoyed reading it!

I'm curious about match ups ngl, but I'm absolutely clueless about how they work. I've seen other blogs do it before but I've never participated or paid much attention?

I'd love to hear more if you don't mind explaining it, pathologic match ups do sound fun.

[peapod20001]

I am still DESPERATE to know about CRUSH's cult. what is it called? how do they recruit people? how did it start? what are its core beliefs? how are T's children viewed by other, non-family members?

Names!! Are not my strong suit. At all. Tbh I forgot a name was even smth I’d need to come up with 😭 and thus I have nothing at all </3 I’m so sorry for disappointing in that department,,,but I can kinda elaborate more for your other questions! <:3

So the cult as it is now has SF pretty much as the head of it all, it kinda operates the same as your average cult but then it also has some influence from the dark web (cheesy I know jus bare with me </3)

The mentality has always been around, see that 1st post with papa T talking about how evil is necessary and whatever, but the followers of this belief have never been grouped together in this way before. They were drawn in by the I guess “awakening” of SF, she has the same presence as her father and he was the one who brought evil to the world

T’s family (both siblings and children) have a glamour about them, this makes people more likely to fall under their influence. A good example of this would be Steve cus he literally convinced himself that getting murdered, by none other than one of T’s offspring, was love and he continues to hold this belief. Of course that glamour doesn’t always work, and some have more alluring qualities than others which makes them stronger in that sense. SF is a lot like her dad in this regard, she brings out the worst in people

So with her alluring aura, and an internet connection, SF was able to reach millions across the world and set off a spark in many that would make them start to feel and act in a certain way (SF is an online influencer in the most literal sense, and gaining access to the dark side of the internet gave her the means to get some crazy people to do some crazy shit).

The beliefs she feeds to her followers are to never water yourself down and act as the purest form of yourself. This can be interpreted differently among them all but the innocent ones takes this as loving without fear, and the less innocent ones take it as act out because it is your right to (Ike was definitely one of the more innocent ones on the surface haha but he was way too down for the murder and cannibalism)

And yea! People are just in the wrong play at the wrong time and are gullible enough to fall for a two faced liar </3

[ohnotoomanyfandoms]

I'm really interested in your analysis of the plot twist being that matthew is in love with james instead of cordelia. Many people (including me) have joked about how it would make more sense but I never really consider it... In a canon way? But it could make sense. I like what you say about his (lack of) pov. Maybe there is something to analyse too in his reaction to james and grace vs jordelia. Like from the start he didn't really like grace but because he struggled to believe her. Ok I don't know where I'm going with this I need to reread chog. But just so you know that at least 1 person is interested in what you have to say about this theory.

Thank you! 

I shall try my best to explain why I’m choosing to believe Matthew is in love with James and not Cordelia until I am proven wrong by canon. 

1) The lack of POV that I mentioned in my other post is very telling. Cassandra’s choice indicates Matthew has a secret. We already know about his dark sin, so it’s not that. It’s something us readers aren’t supposed to know, so that it can come as a revelation later. 

2) Matthew hates Grace. He always has and he still does. Now, remember, Matthew was the only person James confided in about Grace. If James told him he was in love, shouldn't Matthew have been happy for him? If he had reservations about Grace specifically, why not make them known? No, in those initial years he didn’t loathe Grace specifically, he’d never even met her, but he was jealous of her for holding James’s heart. And then obviously he grows angry and bitter when Grace breaks James’s heart and leaves him for Charles of all people, proving, in Matthew’s eyes, that she’s just a social climber.

3) Cordelia. Matthew and Cordelia get along marvelously. He adores her as a person, and she him. They immediately build this camaraderie built upon how much they love the Herondales. As the book progresses and they get to know each other more, they start caring about each other and understanding each other as friends do. Now, I know everyone assumes those are signs of Matthew falling in love with her, but if the storyline was that linear, then why not have his POV? Why not show us how he was falling for her? Because it’s a red herring, that’s why. 

Hear me out: you can whip out ANY passage in Chain of Gold or snippet from Chain of Iron where you think the hidden subtext is that Matthew is developing feelings for Cordelia. I dare you, any passage, read it through the lens of “Matthew actually loves James.” You’ll see. I can provide examples in another post, if you want, let me know. 

Every time you think Matthew is jealous of James, it’s actually James he’s looking at, not Cordelia. Every time he’s angry, it’s on James’s behalf, for his sake. Now, you could of course just read this as parabatai protectiveness and I wouldn’t fault you for it. It’s how I read it as for nearly a year, after all. And then I re-read some old theories of mine from like 2015 and things clicked. I re-read the book and it all made sense through those lenses. 

I always said there was something suspicious about Matthew’s alleged feelings for Cordelia. They came too fast. I even theorized Grace compelled him to feel things for her, so as to mess things up a bit. Now I realize those feelings were never there in the first place. 

Now, let me address some of your potential reservations: 

A) “But this would mean Matthew is in love with both Herondale siblings! Isn’t that a bit odd?” No odder than James and Lucie Herondale being in love with Grace and Jesse Blackthorn, another set of siblings. I mean what are the odds of THAT happening, right? (Unless you believe Jesse is also making Lucie fall for him like Grace did with James.) It’s actually way less strange if a bisexual boy falls for his best friend and his little sister. Or falls for the sister as a result of his love for his best friend being literally impossible. As in, James can’t reciprocate because he’s straight, and even if that weren’t the case, any romantic or sexual relationship between them is forbidden by the Law. 

B) “Would this be another parabatai love story?” No, this wouldn’t be another TDA situation, because James doesn’t and can’t love Matthew back romantically. If anything, this is unrequited love in its purest form (which, by the way, isn’t even forbidden by the Clave. What is forbidden is if you actually have a relationship, consummate, but it takes two to tango, so there is no chance of Matthew facing legal consequences like exile or mark-stripping for this, thankfully). We’ve seen some unrequited love situation in other TSC books, but it was never a main thing. Alec got over his imaginary crush on Jace the second he met Magnus. Same for Simon with Clary and Izzy. For Matthew, this could be yet another reason for his torment. 

C) “Must everyone be gay???? stop making every character gay” I’m sorry, Matthew is canonically bisexual and therefore what I am suggesting is canonically possible. 

If you don’t agree with this theory, I am curious to hear what you think the “big plot twist in the love triangle” is going to be! 

[deepperplexity]

Title: A Bludger To The Heart [pt.3]

A/N: Part 3 of A Bludger To The Heart as requested by @witch-of-reblogs​ & @prinlee​ 

[Part 1 // Part 2] 

Imagine prompt by: @boodalinski-gifs​ "Imagine Severus meeting his future s/o when they (being a younger Malfoy relative) accompany Lucius to see Draco's quidditch match."

Pairing: Snape x Female!Malfoy!OC

Setting: Malfoy Manor, New Year's Eve Celebration -> Spinners End

POV: Third limited, Snape tilt.

Word Count: 6432

Warnings: Harsh language, mentions of previous violence

Ending recap: He leaned his head against the side of her's as his arms wrapped tightly around her lush body. She shivered and he sighed. So this is what you feel like, to hold... "Severus?" His breath caught as that was the first time she had uttered his given name; like fuel to the raging storm inside him, it made him tremble ever so slightly. It sounded otherworldly as it came from her. "Yes?" "Don't let go," she hummed and he hugged her tighter. Held her closer. Pressed her to himself as if life depended on it while that storm raged in his chest; a storm of thunder and lightning as burning as dragonfire. As he struggled to stay in reality and not cave to the fantasy that allowed him to be with her like this to the end of time.

Masterlist page // Masterlist post 

The end of time seemed to arrive swiftly. Too swiftly. Arabella leaned away from him and her hand gently got folded within his as he wished for nothing to be close to her. Her bright eyes gleamed at him with a reflection of the shining moon.

"Arabella, I-" but words eluded him as she was breathtaking and Severus struggled with words worthy of her. Words he could speak most gently and endearingly to her were not so easily found. "Yes?" she prompted and the corner of his lips tugged slightly in a tiny smile. "You are most beautiful," he said with that rumbling voice of his, "sweet and gentle," he continued and she giggled.

Severus arched his brow at the giggling beauty. "I may be many things, Severus, gentle is however not one of my qualities." Her left hand rose to her mouth to stiffen the giggle. As she did so a ring caught his attention. It looked misplaced and in all ways wrong on her delicate hand.

The ring was bold and the ruby too big for its band. The many little diamonds covering the golden band made it look as out of place on her as if it were placed on the head of a pixie as a crown. Arabella noticed his disapproval of the jewelry and something about her changed. Noticeably so.

"You do not approve I take it?" Arabella said and her voice seemed stiffer than he had ever heard it. "I do not, no." "Well, you're not wrong," she said as she looked at her hand with a harsh sigh, "I don't really fancy it, nore do I enjoy seeing it on my finger. I don't really like it all. Or what it stands for," she stated and it puzzled him. He looked at the ring and then at her.

His blood kept heating by her proximity and had it not been for the possibility of getting caught he would have ventured to kiss her. Yet he held the yearning at bay as her words had caught his attention. "Do tell," he murmured in a thunderingly low voice. At that, she looked up at him, somewhat hesitantly and the feeling felt misplaced in her. HE did not see her as hesitant or unsure, the very opposite actually.

"I'm to be married," she stated flatly. His heart nearly stopped at those words. As if the world stood still, frozen in its rotation. He could not quite understand what she was saying. "I'm sorry?" "Married, I am to be married, Severus." This time he heard her perfectly as his heart silently broke and crumbled in his chest that in an instant felt as empty and cold as it had before she had entered his life that day on the quidditch pitch.

He took a step back, involuntarily, and the pain in his chest intensified at the loss of contact with her. "Severus, I-" "Married? You are engaged, to be married?" She nodded and he stiffened, hardened. His posture became rigid, his eyes cooled to ice and it felt as all warmth left his physical body as cold stone overtook his mind and soul.

He could not for the life of him understand the situation. Usually, he was quick in thinking, impossibly fast in his reactions and utterly careful to show no emotion he did not choose to showcase for others. But at that moment, he was without words, without control, his emotions clearly visible and he had not the slightest chance at reeling them in while in her presence.

"You toyed with me," he whispered in a growl. She shook her head profusely. "I did no such thing, Severus-" "You did. You are engaged, to be married yet here you stand. Clinging to me, overpowering me, engaging in my emotions." His words were harsh, cold and lingered in the air as thunderclouds. "Severus, please I-" "You do not get to use my name, Miss Malfoy. You do not-" "I don't love him!" she nearly screamed and it made Severus go utterly silent and still.

"Can't you tell by this hideous thing?" She held up her hand and the disrespectful ring gleamed in the moonlight. "Can you not tell that this man does not know me? Can you not tell that I hate this? Can't you see that I want to part in-" "Ah, there you are. I was starting to wonder my dear."

Severus looked at Arabella as her eyes readjusted to the man entering the balcony. The man Severus not long ago wanted to end for simply kissing Arabella's cheek. "Mr Dox," she said with a slight courtesy towards him.  To any other, it might have looked respectful and friendly, even as if she were pleased to see the revolting man that was walking towards them.

He saw it was not. The shine in her eyes was gone. The softness to her stature had perished and she looked cold. Nothing like the woman he knew her to be. Nothing like the woman she was in only his presence. "Mr. Snape," Mr. Dox said and Severus turned towards the man with the smallest of nods. "Pleasure to see you here, I was afraid somebody might have run off with my beautiful girl," he snickered with a snake-like grin.

Severus merely contained his fury at the man. At the engagement. At it all. "Mr. Dox, you are to be married to this woman I hear?" Dox smiled widely and that harshness in his eyes lacked all comforts of humanity. "Indeed, I'm a very lucky man," he said and stepped closer to Arabella as Severus stepped back a step. Dox was not a man to be taken lightly after all. Despite his young age.

"Arabella, my dear, come join me for a dance before the fireworks," Dox said and it took everything within Severus not to lunge at the despicable excuse of a man. "Of course, Mr. Dox," Arabella said flatly before looking at Severus, "I'll see you later, Mr. Snape." Severus bowed deep for her but Dox laughed loudly. "What could you possibly have to bother Mr. Snape with, dear?" "She does not bother me in the slightest," Severus stated with a monotone voice that revealed none of his fury.

Dox smiled wickedly, "Mr. Snape, surely you have no interest in this girl? She's of little importance and low stature, not to mention she's low of age and merit. Beautiful, but that will fade," Dox stated as his fingers graced Arabella's cheek softly but with a domineering dominance.

The words the man described Arabella with made his blood boil. It took every ounce of his strength not to haul her away from him and end the miserable lifeform that stood by her. "You ought not to speak in such manners of your future wife, Mr. Dox," Severus stated with such coldness it was a wonder his mouth didn't freeze from them. "Come now Mr. Snape, women are for men to have and own. They are great distractions-" "If that is your view of women, Mr. Dox, I see no need for marriage. Especially with a woman such as Ms. Malfoy here," he said with a nod towards Arabella and she seemed to soften as their eyes met for a moment.

"Well, that's not for you to think about," Dox said, "I mean, you have no interest in fleeting feelings like love or lust. I've never known you to be with a woman. Besides, you are a little old to admire such a beauty as this, are you not?" "And you are a little young to know of love and lust, Mr. Dox," Severus countered harshly before giving Arabella a swift glance. He was searching for what she wished him to do - but there was nothing there to show him.

"Good one, Mr. Snape," Dox laughed with a shake of his head, "well, as amusing as this is we should go back inside. Come now," Dox said as he placed his arm around Arabella's waist and steered her away before another word could be spoken. They closed the door behind them and left him alone with only the moon for company. Its white light looked as empty and cold as his chest felt.

He stood utterly still, have I lost her before I even ever had her? And tot hat, that vulture? He will break her... He thought as his shoulders sank and his stance loosened. It was nearly midnight and soon the fireworks would light up the dark sky with colour and sparkles. He wanted no part of it.

It took him a mere moment to decide. He would leave. He would leave and never see her ever again. That was the only option. He could not trust himself with her. He could not trust himself around Dox. He could lest of all trust himself around Arabella with Dox by her side. So to leave was the only option. Dox had nothing to do with Hogwarts and there was no danger of seeing either of them at the school or his own home.

He would keep to those places for the time being. Until he felt, dead or nothing at all. For what he felt now, was nothing but the purest of torture and agony. Hate and dread, fear and pain, longing and hurt. To be broken so utterly was perhaps irrevocable. Perhaps he would have to adjust to this new sense of being as a crushed man with nothing but fear for the one woman he had otherworldly feelings for.

Was this love? Was it really love when all that came with it was pain? He could not answer that as he had no idea how to deal with the only possible answer. To admit it would be the last attack, the last crack, the last fracture in him. If he admitted that love was only meant as pain for him in life he might as well end that life. And he could not, would not.

Something in him told him to hold on, that at some point things would be different or perhaps some time she would need him. And never would he leave the world if that ever was the case. How could he?

But for now, he would leave. He would go away and stay away. For as long as possible. There is no other way, he thought as he took the stone stairs down from the balcony, crossed the lawn and stepped away from Malfoy Manor. Stepped away from Arabella. Stepped away from the hollow pain that only seemed to echo louder in his cold chest for every step that separated him from her, from his love.

Time passed as Severus focused on work. He focused so hard that the days blurred together, the student's face's meant nothing and he rarely spoke a word outside of the classroom. He was not known for speaking, nor for remembering students but not a single person could have missed the change in him from before the Christmas break and after it.

January passed as he dulled the banging in his chest with planning his year's work. February passed as he caged his feelings with late-night patrols. Mars passed while he buried himself in essays and homework corrections. April passed as he did all he could to not think of the marriage taking place. May passed as he shut down in all ways possible as he became more stone than human. June passed as he corrected end of term papers, essays, tests and graded students without ever knowing who he graded as hiss students by then were a mere mess of endless faces with no significant meaning.

When the school was empty and summer had arrived fully at the end of June he left Hogwarts. He arrived late afternoon at his own home and it was as dirty and empty as he remembered it. If anybody had asked him about the time at Hogwarts he could not have given them an answer even if he tried. He remembered barely anything from it and the exhaustion that filled him was as close to death as he had ever been physically.

He simply dumped the little bag he had with him in the hallway and stepped into the little house. Barely had he made it to the bedroom before he sat down on the side of the bed and felt the exhaustion overcome him in a way that he could not keep at bay. He fell backwards and closed his eyes; asleep before he took a second breath.

He slept until the sun had set for a second time. He felt numbly refreshed yet as tired as ever when he woke up in darkness. His back was stiff, his neck sore and he desperately needed a shower and change of clothes.

As he was sat by the kitchen table, dressed in black linen pants, a white shirt and black socks, he sipped a cup of black strong coffee. His home felt, for the first time, as a sanctuary. It was a place where he had no connection to her, to Arabella. She had never set foot in his home and despite the horrid memories of hurt the place held, that pain was nothing in comparison to the loss of her.

The darkness surrounded the world and he felt as if it suited the darkness within him perfectly. Before Arabella, he had never considered that his life could get worse. Or better either. But apparently, both things could happen.  Unfortunately in the wrong damn order. "Perhaps, she's happy..." he pondered as he drank the last of the coffee and set the cup in the sink to be cleaned later. The thought made him feel better and worse at the same time as it didn't sit right. Her being happy with that vulture felt as wrong as it could. But he hoped he was incorrect. Hoped she was happy. Hopped everything was good with her. Hoped she had a good life; even if he had no part in it.

There was a pounding at the door and Severus sighed deeply as he was in the middle of cooking dinner. the house was filled with the scent of spices and he had no intention of opening the door. Nobody had any business with him at this time or his home. He determined that it was most likely kids banging on all doors to rile up people. So e promptly ignored it as he kept stirring in the pot.  

The loud banging was heard again shortly after, it sounded more urgent and harsher so he slammed the lid on the pot and took off the white apron before throwing it over a chair. He would never let anyone see him in a fucking apron, that was sure as hellfire.

He hadn't reached the door when someone tugged at the handle and banged again, even harder. "What in the-" He unlocked the door and pulled it open harshly as a small, pale hand hit his chest in a knocking motion. The person's head was turned away and clad in a hood of darkest black. But he knew. He would have known anywhere who was hiding beneath the billowing fabric that swallowed her like a shadow.

"Arab-" he caught himself, "Mrs. Dox," he corrected and he nearly died as her face turned toward him. "What did he-" "Please, let me in Mr. Snape, please I-" she cried and he grabbed her thin arm and yanked her into his hallway before the door was slammed shut with a loud bang that made Arabella jump slightly.

He was furious, absolutely enraged by the mere sight of her. She was thin, too thin. Her beautiful face marred and marked by bruises in varying shades of purple and green. Old and new bruises. He was outraged beyond compare with any other feelings he had ever felt related to anger. He was literally shaking, his hands flexed as they hang by his sides. His heart pounded as if he had run hundreds of miles.

"I'm going to kill him." The words vibrated out of him and hung in the air with promise. The only other sound was Arabella's hushed crying. "Arabella, I will end him for this," he said and it was as if all the time she had been away from him came crashing back in his memory.

When he had graded essays, had she been beaten? When he went on nightly patrols, had she been crying? When he held lectures on potions, had she been abused? When he had suffered from the loss of her, had she suffered from the loss of safety and freedom?

He could not think straight, could not grasp how badly the man had treated her. He could not stop blaming himself for it either. He had known, from the beginning, what kind of man Dox was. How he treated women. And the way he had spoken of Arabella that night on the balcony had irreversibly shown that he harboured the same feelings towards her. Meaning none.

"Mr.- Mr. Snape," Arabella pleaded and his eyes found hers. They were empty and there was a clear loss of the joy that had lingered so openly there before. "I think..." she mumbled feebly and her face turned ashen as her knees buckled. He caught her before she fell to the floor. Her breaths were shallow and short, she felt too light in his arms. What has he done to you... The thought echoed as he carried her up the stairs and placed her on his own bed, gently.

The hood fell back and revealed her tightly skinned face as her cheekbones, jaw and temples were to defined along with her collarbones the protruded harshly. He caressed her cheek softly with his cold hands and felt tears prick in his eyes. He felt as if he had done this to her, in some way, he was responsible. It burdened him more than he could bear.

He placed a blanket atop her before he closed the door and left her to rest alone - despite wanting to be as close as possible it felt wrong in her unresponsive and unaware state. So he went down to the kitchen again and busied himself with the rest of the cooking.

He had just finished setting the table as a scream was heard from upstairs. His heart skipped a beat and he dashed towards his bedroom while calling Arabella's name. He found her pressed against the furthest wall in the room with fearful eyes and panting breaths.

Severus stepped into the room and she found him with her large eyes. "S-severus-" she breathed and in an instant, they met in the middle of the room. He buried her in his arms as she sobbed into his chest with mumblings of his name, over and over. She cried and held on to him as if her life depended on it. He held her tightly and let her cry as much as she needed no matter how badly it made him hurt to see her in such a way.

After a minute he kissed the top of her head, her platinum blond hair tattered and unwashed. "He-, he wanted me to-, to make an unbreakable vow," she mumbled between sniffles. He stiffened around her. "I, I didn't know where to go. I, I ran away, I-" she said as she was shaking violently in his embrace and he hushed her. Tried to calm her as best he could.

"What unbreakable vow?" he asked after a moment. She sniffled again. "To be with none other," she whispered as if the words were strangling her. "And you ran?" "Yes, I, I can't be with him, I don't want to be with him..." Severus felt both hope and dread, pain and joy at the same time. The feelings were very much at war within him.

He was at a loss for words. What could he say? What could he do? What he wanted to say was of no use, what he wanted to do was abhorrent to do in her current situation at that moment. So he just held her. Closely.

"I didn't know where else to go," she whispered on a shaky breath. "You are always welcome here, Arabella," he murmured with that husky voice that vibrated through him. He felt as though she smiled for a moment, but dismissed the thought. The words of Mr. Dox clung in his mind no matter how hard he tried to banish them. He was too old. He was not good enough for such a beauty as Arabella.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, despite not wanting her to break away from him. "Very," she said, "something smells wonderful," she continued and looked up at him. He felt both joy and pure fury at that moment. As she saw the latter emotion she looked away. He took her chin in his cold hand and steered her face back to his.

"You are beautiful," he said, as softly as he could. She just blinked at him. "But you do need to eat," he continued, "and never be within reach of him again." Severus studied the blackened eye, the broken lip and bruised jaw as rage boiled in him. "I'm sorry-" "It is not your fault," he said before she could finish whatever nonsense apology she endeavored to disclose. She had nothing to apologies for.

"Come, let's eat."  She tilted her head and looked with a puzzled look at him. "What is the matter?" "You cook?" she asked in disbelief. He simply arched a brow. "Well, do you?" she pressed again. "I cook, I cook very well I would say. It's much like potions and I would say I am rather accomplished in that field," he said matter of factly as he offered her his arm. "So, shall we?" she nodded and took his arm.

"You weren't lying," she mumbled between bites, "you do cook very well," she continued as she cleared a second plate of the food. "Thank you," Severus said as he placed his cutlery on the empty plate. He studied her for a moment as she gulped down food as if she were truly starving. Has she been starving? The thought felt strange as she seemed to love food and Dox had no shortage of money so food should have been provided for her.

As Severus cleared the table and did the dishes with help of magic she sipped a cup of green tea. The silence felt oddly good but he missed hearing her joyfully playfully voice. He had not heard it in many months now. Not since the balcony.

They were seated in the living room, he in his chair and her on the small couch. They had been silent for a long time, Severus had heated the living room with a pleasant fire and it was now a comfortable temperature but Arabella seemed a bit bothered and her cheeks had a bit of colour to them.

"Severus?" "Yes?" "May, can I use your shower?" she said as her eyes seemed fixed on the tattered rug by his feet. "Of course," he said and rose from the chair, "this way." She followed as he led her to the first floor and the door opposite of the bedroom. "Here, there are towels in the cabinet, let the water run for a moment before you step in. It's usually cold for a moment," he said and she nodded. He left her to take a shower and returned to the living room and sipped on a fresh cup of tea.

The pipes rustled for a while and then went silent. The door opened, another door opened, a slight ruckus and then a door closed, softly padding feet was heard and the bathroom door closed again with its distinctive squeak of the top hinge. What is she doing?

He went back to his reading and tea as he waited, and waited, and waited. When he finally heard the bathroom door open and the padding of soft feet down the stairs he straightened, put away his book and looked towards the door opening.

His breath caught in his throat as she stepped in. He stared at her. Dumbfounded. "Sorry, I hope it's okay?" She said and pulled a little on one of the hems of his white shirt. She was drowned in the fabric. Her legs bare and the shirt reached almost to her knees. Further down was a pair of his black socks, so big that they just bulged around her ankles. She looked as beautiful as he had ever seen her and he was in awe of the emotions that raged within him.

"Severus? Is, is it okay?" "Yes, yes it is," he said and rose from the chair to walk over to her. He just wanted to hold her. And she walked straight into his arms, no hesitation or restriction.  He held her close and she smelled of his shampoo and soap. The scent mingled with her own and it felt heavenly for him.

"Can I stay?" she asked while her cheek rested against his chest. "Yes," he simply said. He would never turn her away. Never. That feeling he had had so many months ago blossomed; she had needed him after all. Had he not stayed in the land of the living she would have not had him to turn to at that moment and it gave him great joy that he could, after all, be of some use to his love.

She laid in his bed, he had given her the main bedroom despite her trying to refuse. He could not sleep down the hall when she was so close. He stood in the doorway and looked at her. Moonlight danced over the naked skin of her shoulder where the bruises of a man's hand stood out in purple shades against her pale skin.

He fisted his hands as he crossed his arms over his chest. What could he do about Dox? What could he do for Arabella? What should he do? What should he not do? What was possible? What was impossible? He tried to sort it all out but his mind kept strolling off to her. The need to hold her close made his skin crawl with want.

"Are you just going to stare at me or come over?" The soft yet high-pitched voice sang out the words and he had no time to think before he walked over. "Come, sleep here," she said and opened the cover to reveal her body clad in one of his nightshirts. He crawled in, fully clad. She snuggled closer and he felt oddly content. Despite the situation and circumstances of her being with him.

He couldn't remember falling asleep but he woke up from Arabella's voice. She was softly and silently singing. A lullaby if he were not mistaken. Her fingers stroked his hair and cheek as he stayed still with his eyes closed. She sang of love and adoration, of soft meadows and singing stars, of dancing rain and flying clouds.

It wasn't until she went quiet that he wanted to open his eyes to look at her. But right as he was about to do so, a sob escaped her. Yet she kept stroking his hair and he could not bear the thought of disturbing her in her sorrow.

"You never replied to my letters... You never came to the wedding... You never came. You never answered." Severus stiffened as she spoke of him, to him. "I love you, and you never came. I waited, but you never came," she whispered with shaky breaths and he cursed himself. "I wrote to you, I asked you to help... I asked you to save me. Help me," she whispered as her hand stopped stroking his hair and cheek. He missed the touch instantly.

He had never opened the letters. He had never looked twice at them. Had had simply tossed them in the fire as his chest felt tight with cold and empty from that hollow feeling she had left him with at the balcony. Foolish, I was so foolish... Selfish. At that thought of a word, she kissed his temple so softly and he could not find the strength to open his eyes and face her allegations.

He woke up in an empty and cold bed. He looked around as he jerked upright. "Arabella?" he called with gravelly morning voice, no reply. He left the bed instantly. "Arabella?" he called again as he stepped out of the bedroom. Again, no replay. "Arabella?" he called louder as he took the stairs in fluent strides. "In here, Severus!" she called and he steered towards the kitchen as he could smell coffee brewing and something burning.

The kitchen was nearly half-filled with smoke as he entered and Arabella seemed to try and air it out with an open window. "What, do tell, are you doing with my kitchen?" he asked with amused severity. She sighed and her cheeks turned a little red. "I was trying to make breakfast..." He arched a brow and loomed into the kitchen.

Indeed, it seemed as if she had been trying to make pancakes. He gave the burnt batter a sneer and shook his head. "Sit," he said and tossed the whole pan in the sink to be dealt with at a later time. He twirled his wand and created a gust of wind that cleared the smoke out through the window. Arabella sat with a cup of coffee with some milk in it. Severus poured a cup for himself; black. As he sipped it he easily made a new batter and fried some pancakes with ease.

He served the pancakes and caught Arabella smiling fondly at him. "You look good in the kitchen," she said with a wide smile. He scoffed and sat opposite her with his coffee cup. "Truly, you do. I'd like to see you cook every day," Arabella said and moved a pancake to her plate. "Do you?" "I do," she answered, "I can't cook worth shi- Umh, at all," she corrected herself and Severus laughed. Yes, he laughed, for the first time in a very long time.

"I love that sound." Severus went quiet immediately as her eyes found his. He disliked his own laugh but it made her eyes twinkle, so perhaps it was not so bad a laugh? "Well, I believe I do not want you in my kitchen after this so feel free to leave that cooking to me," Severus said softly as he moved a pancake to his own plate. "Does that mean I can stay? With you?"

It took a moment for him to answer her as his thought were at war yet again. "Do you want to be with me?" he asked, "I'm an old man, Arabella, and-" She smacked his shoulder. "Severus, please, you know of my feelings and I know you feel the same damn way so don't pretend. Just don't," she said with a harsh look at him. "Forgive me, but you married. You married and were not to be mine ever." His words made her shrink as if he had physically hurt her.

"Did, did you not read my letters?" Severus stiffened, he had wanted to avoid that subject for all eternity if he had had the chance. "I, did not. No," he said in a low growl. "If you had read them... You would have known that I was forced to marry him for the money he promised my family. For the step-up, he offered in society by just being connected with him. IF you had read the letters, you would have known what he was doing to me, what he forced me to be for him," tears stung her eyes and she seemed so little and frail.

Severus looked at her. "Had I know, I would have come." The words were stated clearly, "but I could not bear to read your letters, your words, when I had no hopes of being with you," he said and guilt ate at him. He felt truly terrible. "It was selfish, I am aware of that-" "You were hurting," Arabella interrupted and it took him off guard. Nobody ever validated his feelings or understood them. Or even acknowledged they existed.

"Do you have the letters?" He shook his head. "I burned them," he said honestly and she looked both glad and sad at the same time. "Well, let's leave that then," she said and Severus nodded. "There is something else I-, I want to ask you about," Arabella said. "You should eat, and then we can talk." Arabella smiled tightly and shoved a piece of pancake in her mouth with a delightful humming.

She tried to talk a few times but Severus just arched his brow until the pancakes were gone and he was on his second cup of coffee. "Done," Arabella declared with a content smile. Severus hummed and nodded. "What did you want to talk about?" He asked as he topped off their cups with more coffee.

It took a moment, a moment he spent just looking at the beauty that was Arabella - despite the thinness and the bruises. She was all he could have ever dreamt of, and she was sitting in his shirt in his kitchen sipping coffee from his cup - yet she was not his. "I want to run away," Arabella said. "Run, away? You have?" "No, silly, I want to run away with you. Away from here and away from, him, and be with you." Severus just stared at her, dumbfounded.

"Severus, I love you. You know this." "I'm, just, shocked. I," he said softly as his mind raced. She wanted to be with him? Wanted to run away with him? Leave her husband for him? Be his instead? Was that even possible? "Arabella, you do realize what you're saying?" "Yes, I am saying that I love you beyond compare and I am asking, very selfishly, for you to help me and be with me because I love you." "And I love you." She smiled at his words.

"I know it's sudden and selfish, Severus, but my feelings for you have not changed since the first time I met you." Severus looked at her and soft warmth spread through that hollowness in his chest. "You, Arabella, are not selfish in any way." He reached for her hand and she gently placed hers in his. "I love you, deeply. I've, I've loved you since I first laid eyes on you," Severus said softly as his thumb stroked the ridge of her knuckles. "I may not have the best reputation, in romance, or other things. But, I do not want to destroy your reputation darling."

She stared at him. Just stared. For a long moment and he became restless from her look. "You're afraid to ruin my reputation?" Severus nodded. Arabella laughed. "Severus, I am Arabella Mal- Arabella Dox, married to Rovius Dox. I think my reputation is the least fo my worries." "Still, I do not-" "Enough!" Arabella slammed her hands on the table as she stood up, "Enough Severus, what are you so afraid of? Why won't you just fucking be with me?!" She glared at him and he looked at her.

"Do you not love me?" "I do." "Do you not want me?" "I do." "And do you, or do you not want to help me survive this shitstorm my family fucking forced me into?!" "I do..." "Then what, by Merlin, is your fucking problem?!"

Severus stared at her as she seemed to be ready to explode, or perhaps she was exploding? "Arrrgh! What is wrong with you?!" she screamed with her hands thrown up towards the heavens and Severus could not for the life of him figure out what he had done. "Well, that depends on who you ask," he drawled as he slowly rose from his seat. "Well I am asking you what is wrong with you!" she screamed back and Severus took a step back.

Not for fear of her, but she seemed more intimidated by him as he rose to his full height. "Would you like me to sit down again?" "No, what, why?" "Well you, you shrunk and stepped back as I stood..." Arabella seemed offended by the thought but she smiled at the same time. "Arabella, how badly did he hurt you?"

His heart twisted at the view of her. She looked broken. From thunderstorm to softly falling rain on a dull day. "Darling, please," he said as he took a slow step towards her, "tell me." She looked at him as her arms hugged her own chest and tears started to fall. "I'm sorry, Severus, I'm so sorry. I, I'm not mad at you. I'm just-" "In pain," he finished for her and she nodded. He reached for her and she stepped into his embrace.

"Let's leave. We'll go somewhere nobody will find you." She looked up at him as he spoke and her smile, her smile broke every barrier and coldness that had built up. "Where do you want to go, Arabella?" "You mean anywhere?" Severus nodded and he felt her relax. As if he had relieved her of some sort of burden. "I want to go, where you will be." Her answer made something in his stomach flutter and that boiling heat that roiled and coiled in his veins seared him violently.

"What, what do we do about Rovius?" she asked with a shaky voice and Severus stiffened ever so slightly. "He's not to be taken lightly. You are aware of his connections and status. And I fear, he will use that to find you." "I know, he's, he's not a man that lets things go. Ever," she whispered and her thin arms shook as she clung to him. "I won't let him have you." The words were as clear as the first light of dawn on a winter morning after the darkest of nights.

He would live by them forever. He would live by her side, for her and with her for as long as she allowed him to be. If the day came, when she did not want him any longer, he knew he would be ruined and ended at that moment. But for the time being, he allowed hope to enter his heart and love to fill the empty void she had once left him with.

Hey guys! :D Hope you enjoyed this third part! :D I am currently running a high fever so if it’s not adequate I apologies! :P Hopefully you liked it! I actually had trouble writing this one, I hade so many thoughts but could not fit them all so I am wondering, would you guys like a part 4 as well or are you satisfied with this ending for Arabella and Severus? ;P 

Please like, comment and share - it means so much to me! <3 

Masterlist page // Masterlist post

Tags: @lizlil​ 

[ifeveristoday]

I got out my DVDs for this rewatch (that’s not actually a big deal. I only have season 3 on DVD. 😂) so let’s get to it.

I forgot they did a cold open for this episode!

I know it’s for ambiance but man does Angel have a lot of candles displayed. Probably too ‘mainstream’ for his taste but the thought of Angel furtively going to a Bath and Bodyworks in the mall during their semi-annual sale and just buying out their whole candle selection gives me the purest joy. Let’s be real though, Angel would shop at some boutique/hole in the wall owned by a wizened old character with a twinkle in their eye and everything marked up 20%. Or it would be a steel and glass monstrosity with a collection labeled Candles for Men. That’s the range.

Back to the enormous fire hazard that this scene is -

Wait. Does fire burn on stone?

Shout out to the stunt doubles.

I think that Angel getting food for Buffy for a sort of alfresco picnic while training is really sweet, actually. Also, can't miss the opportunity for both carbs and phallic symbolism ala bread.

Everyone is so embarrassingly horny in this moment. I'd say get a room except they're in a whole giant mansion.

Always remember the bread! What did Angel do with the food after Buffy fled? Fed the no-doubt cursed pigeons that live in Sunnydale.

Thanks for the workout (insert stereotypical dirty laugh).

Oh yes, the awkward 'let's talk about your birthday without mentioning the last birthday you had at all because it's horrifying' chitchat. God, the anxiety Angel is radiating here and Buffy trying to smooth it over. You can't unfrost that trauma cake!

Angel, you utter dork. You're lucky Buffy finds you pretty. Very powerful himbo energy here. And it's nice to see some light-hearted flirting/banter between them.

How do you know when someone's aura's dirty? Buffy is only asking the reasonable questions everyone has.

Do you hear yourself, Giles. "I'm aware of your distaste in studying vibratory stones..." I can't imagine what that section of the Slayer handbook looks like. Are there pull-out charts?

Faith being conveniently gone for this episode. Boo, hiss.

That workout really did a number on Buffy. I see what you're doing with those crystals.

One of the sad parts of rewatching Buffy is that you just don't have the first time discovery feels of watching it - that magic is gone, but even though I know why Buffy's wobbling in her fight, the reveal is still upsetting. Thinking about how in Season 5, when she does get staked, just as she's questioning her powers - and here, where she's losing them.

Also, obvious observation is obvious - the sexual violence imagery is really, really blatant here - with the vampire crouched over her with the stake aimed toward her heart, just as she playfully staked Angel earlier in a more romantically set scene.

AND THEN THE THEME KICKS IN. Like, damn! Three minutes and you can pretty much tell what the plot is going to be - Buffy and Angel's UST is getting out of hand, Buffy's lone Rangering it, and something is wrong with her. And it's her birthday.

And Buffy's resourcefulness saves the day.

Perhaps you shouldn't be throwing knives in the library, Buffy.

Did they do a geography lesson on Cuernavaca? It's also just fun to say. Like La Cienega. Brief moment to ponder yet again about a show set in Southern California, actually shot in Southern California, with the huge Latine population we have and the Spanish-influenced names and culture and - getting sidetracked by all this casual 90s racism.

"We do it every year for my birthday," except your seventeenth, presumably because of the murderous ex-boyfriend stalking the town you live in and all your loved ones. [Or, he did take her and it was not shown on screen!] Sometimes I wonder if the continuity editors just go, you know, I'm going to let this one go for the 'emotion' and not just so years later, a Virgo with a deep-seated need to obsess over throwaway details will go into a thought spiral to make it make sense.

I think this is also the last time Hank Summers was spoken of with any real affection because then he was Deadbeat Dad for the remainder of the show. Oh, look. The Scoobies are surprised about the traditional birthday ice show that I'm going to nitpick about forever.

Oz is so supportive, and then the clunker of a 'deep' line of ice being cool because it's water then it's not. I do like the Whedonesque school of dialogue, but sometimes you gotta reel it back. I remember the dialogue on Dawson's Creek was getting pinged for the teenagers talking like grad students.

Quiet reflection. Oh you poor girl, you have no idea.

Quarterly projections - is a convincing filler phrase for when you don't need to know what the job is, because it's boring but sounds vaguely official. What does Hank actually do? Who cares! He's an asshole.

Sunnydale Arms, because of course, Sunnydale has a broken down abandoned murder hotel.

Quentin Travers. Boo. Hiss.

The scary music is very scary. Also one of the Council flunkies looks like a very young Vincent D'Onofrio.

This scene with them in the library is so bittersweet because Buffy is fishing for Giles's attention as a father figure substitute ("very sophisticated people go!" breaks my heart) and he pointedly is rejecting this for training talk.

Look for the flaw at its center. THE FLAW IS YOU GILES. YOU YOU YOU.

it's just so terrible, this scene because of how methodical and clinical it plays out. And Buffy is just not there, and then Giles smiles like nothing has happened.

Buffy makes it through another night - next day (another reason why this trial is so horrifying is that it takes place over several days - it's not on Buffy's birthday but leading up to it, so the idea of her getting weaker and weaker and unable to fight to make it to 18 in the first place) and it's time for the Cordelia has had enough of toxic masculinity scene!

Also, Willow blithely ignoring a person's feelings and treating Amy as just a rat is played for laughs and cuteness, but yeah...you can't treat people like puppets or rats [law and order sound]

I love Cordelia's coat. And also, while it does suck that she stood him up, he's not entitled to her time or attention and certainly not to threaten her. Go, Cordy! Fight like a girl! Yes! Pummel him into the hallway.

I also love Willow's outfit here because I think the colors are so complementary and warm and it's a cute outfit. Okay, the knit wooly hat is a bit too Blossom-esque, but whatever.

Buffy is tiny, we all know this, but I do think they purposefully dressed her in larger than her size coats in this episode to make her look even more tiny and vulnerable.

Giles is TOO BLASE for this scene also shut your mouth about throwing knives like a girl

"It's an archaic exercise in cruelty." SO WHY DID YOU GO ALONG WITH IT, BRAIN TRUST. (I am going to be very mean to Giles this whole rewatch, deal with it.)

"But I'm the one in the thick of it." No, you're not. You are going to be adjacent to it, at best.

Hey it's that guy!

Okay, in better lighting, flunkie does not look like Vincent D'Onofrio.

It's impossible to pin down one type of Vampire in the Whedonverse, except for the delineation between Grunt Bait Vampires, and Special Guest Star/Master vampires, but Kralik is the only other example of a vampire with mental illness besides Drusilla, yet he's medicated. Makes me wonder how exactly they got Kralik...he was a monster before he was a vampire, but who vamped him? I don't put it past the Watchers to have vampires created for this purpose.

Curse against lawyers!

Xander and Oz bonding over comic books is so fun. I regret they didn't really get closer until after Xander and Willow cheated because Oz was the one male friend Xander had.

They mentioned her birthday! Thinking about Buffy's love of poetry later on, this is a nice little detail, and it *is* a thoughtful, sweet gift. Also those poems: horny. Oh yes, maybe in a restrained way, but Elizabeth Barrett Browning knew what was up.

The Buffy and Angel relationship in season three is full of these starts and stops that I can see why and agree with others about how it's frustrating on a number of levels. They know why they can't be together, but they still try to find a common ground because they want to need the other one. They still have their identities to figure out - Buffy as the slayer and a young adult, Angel as a person, separate from Buffy and being Buffy's ex sort of maybe.

But this conversation in Helpless is genuinely sweet and a glimpse at what a normal couple at the crossroads would talk about - I think I'm also being soft on this because the other Important Male Figure in Buffy's life in this episode lets her down so spectacularly bad, that Angel being supportive and kind in his awkward way is a nice respite. It's good to be away from the angst and the horror that their relationship has had.

And the self-aware puncturing of the Moment between them is something Buffy does very well. "Taken literally, incredibly gross - I was just thinking that too". Look, it's cute and soft and I will allow it.

The horror of this episode (and there are so many) is that we have to watch Buffy become the helpless blonde in a slasher flick who is being chased by the monsters and she can't do anything about it - that she has to be rescued or die. That the real world with men catcalling and bystanders who ignore women's cries of distress is far scarier than the literal demons that inhabit the town - and Buffy brokenly saying she can't just be a person, she can't be helpless like that [like women are, still, today] is a gut punch. It's uncomfortable and unhappy because Buffy is supposed to be the hero, the [sigh] strong female lead who can kick ass and take names, and this episode is all about finding who Buffy is, separate from her super powers. Also an exercise in emotional torture, but must be Tuesday.

The physicality - the weakness that both Buffy and Giles display in this scene is so, so good. The way Buffy's hand trembles toward the needle in the case and the dawning realization of what Giles has done, has chosen to do - and he bloodlessly tells her what the Cruciamentum is.

Her tiny little "Liar."

GOD WHY DIDN'T SHE GET AN EMMY (rhetorical we all know genre tv only matters if it was Game of Rapey Thrones)

"You will be safe now, I promise you." LIAR.

Another puncturing a heavy moment - Cordelia as cavalry - I love it. Cordelia taking the most obvious approach to the situation - 'oh Buffy might have lost her memory, well he's Giles,'

I can't believe they robbed us of a conversation in the car scene with Cordy and Buffy.

Kralik had to have found a polaroid camera and a metallic sharpie for this whole scenario -- OH I KNOW WHO HE REMINDS ME OF. The Night Stalker and any number of serial killers that terrorized SoCal. Is the show being self-aware of the problem with mothers and parents in general?

Probably a glib accident.

I don't have much to say about the part where Buffy hunts Kralik because it's so masterfully done with the atmosphere and music.

Nice of Giles's backbone to enter the chat now.

This is not business. Ooo.

Buffy's "I thought I killed a man" emo overalls!

Like it's shadowy, but there's still enough light to see facial expressions. Lighting guy, I salute you.

Little red riding hood metaphor. Oh, that's so her stunt double.

CREEPY SEXUAL VIOLENCE REARS ITS DEFORMED HEAD AGAIN

Jump stair scare. I remember the first time I saw it, I jolted in the living room.

Serial Killer Shit. Why are vampires such drama queens?

THAT'S RIGHT, BUFFY DID THAT

The ending scene in the library is cathartic in that Buffy gets to stand up for herself finally, and recognizes what Giles gives up by helping her, delayed as it was, also there's the feeling of hate punching Quentin Travers via your eyes.

Still don't think she should have forgiven Giles so easily, but we don't get to see a lot of aftercare for Buffy when she gets hurt, and it is a very tender scene.

The Scoobies are being way too upbeat if they knew about the fact that Giles poisoned Buffy, which is why I'm assuming she told a very abbreviated version of events ending with Buffy killed the bad guy and Giles got fired, oops.

Xander's big strong man comment and then looking immediately to Willow to open the jar and not Oz...

I could watch this episode again with episode commentary from David Fury, but another day.

[yandere-sins]

Can u write something about the reader and her guardian angel? The reader is treated badly by her town and the angel goes against his rules to go to earth to let them pay and kidnaps her to keep her to himself

Aw, thanks for requesting! My beliefs align with believing in angels, so they are very dear to me, and I love writing for them! And really, a little corruption is a good fantasy, isn’t it? >:3

»»————-———— ♡ ————————-««

Grumbling, your head knocked backwards against the door as it had been doing for a few hours now. If you didn’t blame yourself so much for being stupid and trusting a stranger, you really, really would have thought that your life was simply dipped into misfortune. After all, who in the world was as unlucky as you? Your village hated you, your parents were never home, so your relatives used you as a cheap servant. All you did was wrong, hurting you or making people around you sneer and reprimand you. You couldn’t even go fetch water without getting wet.

And then suddenly, there had been him. And he looked absolutely beautiful like made by God even. All your worries disappeared when you spent time with him, and you didn’t listen to the rumors of the people that gossiped about you being a gold-digger and trying to land with this foreign, rich-looking man. Because you knew, in a few hours, you would have met with him again, in the secret hide-out in the gardens, with just the two of you. He would hold you, and wipe away the worries from your mind, so who were you to care?

It was a beautiful fantasy, you admitted. At least for a while, you loved the idea of being loved and cared for by this mysterious stranger, who - ever so often - dodged… all of your questions really. If it wasn’t about you, he didn’t want to talk about anyone. You didn’t even have a name to that angelic face of his. Love must have blinded you. So much even, you didn’t think twice as you followed him into this dark basement.

Confused, you had tried to follow as he only smiled, closing the door, promising he’d be back soon for you. You had tried to cry and shout and punch the wood, but it seemed unbudging. As if it was never gonna give away under the feeble force you could apply.

By now, you were just sighing, sitting on the staircase leading up to the door. How much time had passed? What was happening? Only once you had thought you heard a scream from further into the house, but ever since, there was only silence. The wind howled outside the little basement window, and you listened to some chicken pass by, but otherwise, you were left so terribly alone.

Now that you thought about it… Maybe this side of the house wasn’t towards the busiest road of the town, but still, it was weird no one had passed by, hearing your screams at all. The street was eerily quiet now that you tried to put the pieces together. At least, for a Sunday morning. Oh, you wished that at least he would be back. Maybe there still were things to salvage and preserve? Perhaps you could talk it out as to why he’d lock you into the basement? Because worse than feeling betrayed, you began feeling weirded out with how quiet the world around you became.

Getting up, you stepped down the stairs, over to the small window slit with the bars to prevent anyone from coming in. Fumbling around with your hands, you tried to get a grip on the window, which was a little higher up than you were tall, thinking that you’d be able to see if you climbed one of the shelves standing under it. And just when you found a spot to hold on to, you shuddered, something wet and slimy attaching to your fingers.

“Ah-ah,” you heard behind you, your wrist getting caught by a hand gloved in white. Body flush against your back, you couldn’t deny the initial embarrassment you felt, but you were quick to snap out of it, trying to turn around to face him.

“How could you! You locked me in here, how did you even come in!- Wha- What are you doing there?”

Surprised, you looked at your hand getting wiped gently with a white tissue. A bloodred stain slowly soaked into it, making your body freeze as you had to wonder where it was coming from. “Please forgive me for making you wait,” he hummed regretfully, expression jumping from sadness to a smile in a matter of seconds.

“But I have fulfilled my duties, and am ready to take you away now.”

“Wha- What is that even supposed to mean?” you stuttered, watching him drop the tissue and bringing your fingers to his lips, kissing every one of them. “We mustn’t stay in this dirty town any longer, my Love. I cannot have it corrupt you, you know?”

Finally, you looked up at him, his eye color was… not as you remembered it. It had always shimmered in a warm, golden tone, even if now, it seemed almost as dark as the night. He didn’t look mad… or even upset, but his gaze still brought shivers down your spine, and you gulped as he reached behind him, pulling out a piece of fabric from somewhere.

Upon inspecting it closely, it was nothing less than white silk. You didn’t need to touch it to know it would be soft and a joy to feel, but the way he tensed it between his hands, it didn’t reach your mind as enjoyable. “Wait, what are you doing?” you wondered, making the mistake to glance behind him for just a split second, letting off from looking at him.

The last thing you saw before your vision was dunked into the purest of white was the closed door, seemingly never having been opened, as the silk wrapped around your eyes and ears. He adjusted it attentively, making sure that it fulfilled its purpose of blocking out your vision and hearing. Finally, tying the knot tightly, he cupped your face in his palms, leaning in for the fleeting feeling of a kiss on your forehead, ever so gentle, ever so innocent. And just like an animal, once robbed of your senses, you didn’t flail, too flabbergasted of what was happening, and he was glad to pick you up into his arms - yes, overjoyed even.

Soon, he wouldn’t need to use these primitive methods anymore to get you around. However, for now, as you two still had to ascend back to the heavens, he needed to make sure you wouldn’t come in contact with the blood on the ground or have to listen to the dying gurgles of the impaled villagers all around you two. Even if that meant that his own garments slowly soaked from shoes to gloves in the brilliant red of his sins.

[rogue-durin-16]

MY HOME

Request: a Tauriel x Fem reader with a lotta cuteness? Maybe where reader and Tauriel adopted a little child and it's just family fluff? Also can the child be like at the baby-talk stage, and kinda just toddles around? Idk I just think that's cute.

Pairing: Tauriel x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff

Tags:

Requested by: @karlthecat15722

Permanent taglist: @queenofmankind @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722

Warnings: none

A/N: I did what I could really, remember that fluff is not my strong side so I was lowkey struggling xd. I hope you enjoy this tho <3.

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

"He peered between the hemlock-leaves And saw in wonder flowers of gold," I sang, rocking my daughter slowly. "Upon her mantle and her sleeves, And her hair like shadow following."

"Y/n, I'm back!"

"Wait here, galad -o nin cuil (light of my life)" I left the precious baby I had been holding in my arms on her crib to go meet Tauriel. "You're late." I scolded her, giving her a sweet kiss anyway.

"But I brought you primroses." she replied, showing me the flowers, pecking my lips once more before moving past me to leave what she had bought in the market over the table. "where is my iel (daughter)?"

TAURIEL'S P. O. V.

After my banishment from Mirkwood and Kíli's death, I wandered around with no home and no folk, carrying such sorrow and grief that it felt as if I was about to die, and maybe I was.

After a while, one that felt too long, I found myself coming back to the forest that once was my home, just to leave a few days after. It had been my home, but it no longer felt like that.

My feet then carried me to Dale, a city I never thought I would see recovered from all the death and sorrow it had been put through, but there it was, full of life and joy, proving me wrong.

Two days passed and I met her. Maybe it was my fate to fall for unusual individuals, to suffer the pain of an impossible love again and again, or so I thought.

"So it was you." I spun around confused, somehow knowing the girl was talking with me. "I saw you through my window two nights ago." my initial confusion turned into astonishment when I realized the same girl talking to me was the one that had unconsciously lured me. "for a moment I thought it was a flame."

"What?"

"The dawn made your hair shine in a way that it looked like fire." she explained, falling into step with me. "It's so beautiful," I gave her a timid smile. "just like its owner. If all silvan elves are this alluring no wonder why people keep getting lost in the woods."

"Oh that's- I- thank you."

"I'm Y/n." she presented herself. "May I know your name?"

"Tauriel." I almost whispered, stealing a glance at her.

"Lovely."

"Not as lovely as you." I said in a moment of bravery. "Your beauty caught my eye almost as soon as I entered the city."

When I looked at her I saw a smile on her lips and a light blush on her cheeks. "I'm honored I could catch your eye." All from sudden she made a stop, and I realized we had reached her home. "Will you stay here for long?"

"I did not intend to." I confessed, my eyes fixed on my fingers as I twiddled my thumbs. "Though now I think I changed my mind."

"That's good." she spoke with a breezy attitude. "I wasn't ready to weep over your departure."

I let out a nervous chuckle. "Why would you?"

"You have already stolen my heart, nin mel (my love)." she laughed at my surprised gaze. "I hope I see you soon again, Tauriel."

Y/n became my light in so little time. Whenever she looked at me I saw my salvation; whenever she held my hands I felt warmth in my heart.

And whenever she kissed me, oh, I could sense the purest love flooding my body and butterflies filling my stomach.

She was my home, and the hope of a new life all together.

And that new life that Y/n made me hope for came in an unexpected form.

"Hold on-" Y/n tugged my forearm, making me come to a stop.

"What is it, nin mel (my love)?" I questioned.

"What was that?" before I could ask what she was referring to, she spoke again. "Listen." a whine echoed in the woods and before I knew it, I was following Y/n to the place where it seemed to come from. "Oh!"

"Wait!" I yelped as my partner shot to the river, and I behind her. "Careful—" I opened my mouth in agape when I saw Y/n tugging a basket with a baby out of the river. "Is it...?"

"Yes," she carefully picked the baby up from the basket. "Yes it is." she directed her eyes to me. "We can't leave it here."

"Indeed." I agreed, walking to take a closer look at it. "we will take... Her back with us." I took of my cape and extended it on the ground, prompting Y/n to lay the baby on it. "She comes from the Woodland Realm." I stated, wrapping her up and embracing her in my arms as I sat on my heels.

"Why would they desert her?" Y/n inquired, kneeling besides me and caressing the baby's cheek with the back of her finger. "She's merely a month..."

"East-elves are... Not the most kind-hearted beings."

"There are clearly some exceptions." she whispered intently, to which I replied by leaning on her to rest against her side. "C'mon now, starlight won't be enough to guide us home." my eyes widened slightly with an idea, shortly after put into words by Y/n. "How do you say starlight in silvan elvish?"

"Itarielle." I picked her in my arms and she let out a beautiful giggle, extended her arms to grab a hold of strand of my her. "Nin galad, im mel cin (my light, I love you)."

"I'm starting to get jealous." I let out a chuckle, feeling Y/n's fingers running through my hair before moving it to the front to rest on my shoulder so she could wrap her arms around my waist. "you love her more than me." she whined, kissing my neck.

"We already have a whining baby." I teased, turning to meet her gaze and plant a kiss on her lips. "Do not be greedy, I love you both."

"If you say so..." she joked, circling me to play with the baby in my arms. "should I believe naneth (mom), Itarielle?" the baby giggled once more before babbling something. "okay so I think I will believe you." our daughter stretched her arm to grab Y/n's hand.

I stayed shut for a moment while Y/n pampered the baby, making her laugh from time to time.

This was something I had never wish for, nor felt as if I deserved it, but having them as my home was the most beautiful emotion I could feel.

[meltangospelhour]

Notes on Reverie & Discipline: Chapter 1

Format: 1st Person Narrative

Chapter Rating: R / +17 [Implied Sexual stuff/it's smut]

Summary: This story was written after and based upon the 2020 GOFest that's been collecting dust. It's a first person recollection of thoughts after certain events, as well as repressed feelings coming to the surface between three characters in particular.

Chapter 2 // Chapter 3

Blanche

Comparing notes is how we’ve come to conclude our daily routine. It has been logical to do so; our research overlaps quite a bit. As you know, I oversee the handling of evolutionary components and deducting the requirements; Spark is an expert when it comes to breeding and handling Pokémon in their infancy; and Candela, in matters of improving overall stats of a Pokémon, which can involve a combination of stardust and candies.

To address it as Spark would: “Candy makes the candy.”

...Ahem.

So, because candies can trigger the evolutionary outcome of a Pokémon, it is inevitable and without question that I would be working alongside Candela quite often. It’s a fate inescapable. Even if we’ve discovered nothing new, she and I will come together out of a habit that’s formed over the course of these years. If one of us is too sick to appear in person, we’ll connect virtually. In all matters of candy, stardust, and now Rockets, there is always something to discuss.

Such evenings are somehow intense, yet still quiet. Cozy, if you will. The way my partner shifts from being so analytical in one moment, into a giggling fit the next, was a pattern that alarmed me in the beginning. Are you really a scientist, I’d wanted to ask countless times during our first sessions. Now, I’m happy to be a witness to the gamut of personalities that find themselves called into the field that are Pokémon studies.

Candela is far more crafty and even more calculative than I had come to imagine. If she loses, she still somehow wins. I have to work hard for my victories against her; she loses gracefully, but you will have most certainly earned that victory. Countless times, I have created elaborate defenses, counting on her weaknesses--proven and potential. And, repeatedly, I have seen her sidestep them before she’d even touch the surface of my hard work.

As if I were the purest ice, she sees right through me.

With her, there is no hesitation in matters of reading my face, my eyes, the way my fingers move, the pace of my breath, the tone of my voice, the quivering of my lips. Even down to the way I dress, she knows the language I speak past my mask, intentionally and not.

I could, at times, feel where those eyes went. It was distressing, yet oddly… alluring. That reaction has yet to change.

Within six months of observing me, she once asked of me: “You’re upset; aren’t you?”

“And why do you think this?” I sharply quipped.

“Your braid; it’s underhanded. When you’re in a better mood and have your hair braided, you’d usually opt for an overhand technique. Right?”

I found myself paralyzed; she was right. My Lapras had come down with Pokerus. While the virus itself is generally beneficial, it doesn’t make the course of the disease any easier to endure. Seeing someone you care about in pain and discomfort weighs heavily on the mind. As always, I kept my more guttural emotional responses suppressed. The issue of anyone knowing what my Lapras was going through wasn’t the problem; the issue was the potential of my raw emotions stifling my work.

I found myself angry; I had lost control. To opt for a euphemism so many are wont to make: she thawed past my glacial barrier. With this knowledge, would she take advantage of it?

She did, only…not in the way that I’d feared.

Candela stopped by to make sure my Lapras was comfortable, and told a story about how her Infernape, then a Monferno, came down with it. The Pokémon's massive head now resting in her lap, my research partner sang to it a lullaby that I’d never heard--Only to realize along the crescendo that it was Lugia’s Song in a different key. My Lapras, for the first time since falling ill, found enough will to make sound beyond agonized moaning and hummed along with her.

I looked on at the scene that churned impossible-to-pinpoint feelings from within: a woman who I’d feared, and, in a panic, further embraced water-types into my repertoire. Only to find that she seemed relieved I had done so while jovially complaining about needing a real challenge. Now doting upon the very Pokémon who could potentially, with its gains in its newfound recovery, could likely better withstand her team, if not devastate it, if I calculate my strategy accordingly.

It dawned upon me that she saw herself as a small part of something much bigger. If we were strong together, it was all that mattered to her.

She’d said to me some time ago, not the exact words, but akin to: Battles are frequent. They are won, they are lost. But war only has one victory, and that is the victory to focus upon.

That resonated true, especially now.

The feeling of partnership and friendship remained stable. However, something else within felt threatened.

...Something deeper that I’d repeatedly denied myself.

❄❄❄

I’ve worried. I’ve found myself knotting up within. I hadn’t fallen ill. I began to follow the pattern that was behind this sudden nuisance. One of the GO Rocket leaders we were up against is a person from Candela’s past. Someone close to her. A rival and a close friend. In a passing and annoyingly irrelevant thought, I immediately processed the possibility of them being doubles partners in that not-so-distant past.

I found myself thinking about it more, wishing to see the fight they’d engaged in in that field. I thought more about them than I did Cliff. I feel so terribly sorry for Cliff; Giovanni is unworthy of a man that loyal. But I found my thoughts wandering more often to a point that could be deemed unhealthy at worst, counterproductive at best.

The Salamence were the ones that drove my thoughts into this descent. Candela had one that she loved so dearly. That is not to say that she didn’t love her Pokémon equally, but her closeness and address of the dragon seemed so very unique in of itself. To compare, she addressed her Moltres with a certain deference, as we often did with our signature birds. To further illustrate the relationship, one could say that they were our patrons and we, their scions, in a sense. With the Salamence, however, there was a certain reminiscence and determination that I could never understand--

--Until I learned of Arlo’s possession of a Salamence. Though, his was tainted--as far as I was aware. Likewise, this could all be fallacious; I could be bringing up Sierra and Candela’s Houndooms, mine and Sierra’s Lapras, or Spark and Cliff’s Tyranitars. These coincidences potentially had just as little-to-no grounds for concern.

...Right? Of course. Of course, I’m right.

The Salamence themselves shouldn’t be a detail worth my mulling over; however, it drove my curiosity as to who filled the ranks of Arlo’s non-tainted team that Candela had, from what Willow said (who recounted what Candela told him) requested to battle. For old friends who dedicated themselves to the world of Pokémon battles to have matching Pokémon, or Pokémon who were romantically involved, it was often seen as what one might call a ‘cute’ gesture.

A cute gesture between old friends…

...Old friends who could be considered to be of ‘marrying age,’ no less…

To share a pair of dragons was no small matter in certain cultures. After all, Arlo is presumably Kantonian, or perhaps Johtonian; Candela is--

If the dragons are or were mates, then, possibly--?

(I still do not know Candela’s exact age. Her appearance is considerably younger than Spark’s, despite her being the eldest. I attribute this to a number of factors alongside her own healthy habits. One of my admins even teased that Valor’s old guards biologically engineered their higher ranks to fit a certain ideal, to which I immediately dismissed, but considered the potential sciences for my own personal application in terms of enhancing my own mental aptitude permanently.)

In addition, I suppose Spark being very open to discussing Sierra, but Candela’s withholding of Arlo, fuels my ruminations. Spark and Sierra have shared no past, but the level of transparency he was willing to offer is to be appreciated.

“...Has she mentioned him to you?” I asked Spark while watching Elekid and my Metagross play together.

“Nope.” He was careless and quick to reply. I wish he’d not assume before speaking.

“...You’re aware of whom I’m asking about?”

“Yeah,” Spark laughed. “Candela and Arlo. It’s all over your face.”

He wasn’t being careless, and I was wrong about him.

Sporting the audacity to gesture around the proximity of my own face with his finger just to drive his point home, I felt anger well inside of me. And yet, I wasn’t sure who or what I was angry towards. I quickly deducted that I was mad at the situation itself; that I had let my feelings over the situation shatter my façade. He didn’t need to ask “who” due to the fact I had, apparently, exposed my emotions out in the open more than I’d anticipated.

“I suppose that Professor Willow is the only one that Candela had spoken with in-depth about him. Are you not curious?” I asked Spark.

“Of course I’m curious!” he said as Elekid went flying. Nonchalant, Spark raised his hand to catch the flying ball of flailing and laughing energy. He was many things, but the manner that his ‘mother Beartic’ side often activated, as effortlessly as taking a breath, never ceased to impress me.

“You know what, though? When Candy’s ready to speak, she’ll speak! ‘Sides, it’s not like she’s got anything we can actually use! I mean, what’s she going to say? Dude likes boxers over briefs? What are we gonna do with that? Mail him thongs?”

I was fortunate that my anger had found focus. Spark was right; it was pointless. The thirst for my knowledge was driven by my own selfish desires, nor was it hampering Candela’s performance. If anything, it was a fuel.

And yet, my desires persisted. And grew.

...How would she know what sort of undergarments he preferred? Why would you even use such a crass example, Spark? They were only close friends. Nothing more.

I have had days where I absolutely abhorred Arlo. I’ve yet to speak with him; and yet, the reports from trainers and the fact he’d hurt Candela was beyond enough.

I had nights where I reveled in our time -- OUR time -- comparing notes with one another. That time Arlo could have shared with Candela, had he behaved and not fled like a spoiled coward, now belonged to me. Her closeness as she leaned over to see my work along the scattered papers and array of holo-screens...

...The firm, caring squeeze of her hand upon my shoulder;

...The warmth voluminous breasts brushing against my back when she leaned in for a closer look;

...The tenderness and melody of her voice uttering my name, telling me how proud she was to be my partner.

...The scent she wore that often compelled me to lick my own lips.

...I’ve experienced guilt for this indulging. We are working. I always kept still and drank in those moments. I dismissed the apologies from her when she soon realized how close she leaned over me as I worked in my seat and at my desk. For the record, I do not like it when anyone invades my space uninvited. I’d not prefer it.

But this? This was acceptable.

Desirable.

I always kept my voice to a whisper when I forgave her, and kept my face close to hers. At first, it was never planned; a pleasant accident. But, after conducting enough research regarding such gestures, I found that it was a way to sate this growing need for her I had within. To quell the steam without crossing the professional line, so to speak.

I began to realize that part of myself had lost control for her. Close to my proximity, I could feel her warmth, combined with that warm, sweet, spicy perfume that most certainly had traces of Salazzle pheromones imbued within. Alone and in the darkness of night, I then found myself yielding to the temptation of vivid fantasies and succumbing to the will of my own wandering hands.

I felt safe to do so.

Then, from within a dream, something clicked.

Awakened by epiphanies is the norm for my course of sleep. I keep a notebook upon my nightstand for such moments. However, this was the first time I felt too horrified to write. I didn’t want the degradation of my thoughts towards carnal desires to be committed to any tangible memory.

Still; it was a thought that felt as if I were gazing down a void that could envelope me at any time. I kept wanting to know just how close they had been.

Why are the notes on him so vague?

Why so much hatred just because of Candela?

Did she break your heart, losing a Pokémon battle?

Or stealing your potential title?

Am I missing something?

You seriously cannot justify abusing Pokémon because you lost against her!

You wanted the leadership position; didn’t you?

No, that’s too easy. That can’t be it.

Sometimes that’s all there is to it, Blanche.

Perhaps I’m committing the sin of over analyzing things. I still recall Cliff’s message, chiding me for ‘thinking too much.’

(While his observations are… sound, that did nothing to gain the upper hand against me in our previous battles.)

Perhaps these concerns I ruminate upon weren’t merely carnal desires. Perhaps they were more...

[He is sly and manipulative.]

That note. Who’s being manipulated? Why mention this useless detail in our dossier?

I can only compare him to anything but. I’ve met Rattata who were more sly than he.

Small. Loud. Does nothing but preach. Preoccupation with humiliation, and announces frequently for his desire to not be embarrassed. And yet, he seems so simultaneously proud and disgusted of Rocket. That isn’t very manip--

“Wait.”

My need to annotate took precedence over my stubbornness. This might be important. I took only a few notes; short ones for column [A]; extensive ones for column [C]. [C] would come to explain [A]. I will make [C] explain to me [A].

And yet, weeks later, we found ourselves standing beside one another. The subsiding heat from the summer sunset radiated upon us in the glow of victory as we watched the GO Rockets flee. With the aid of Victini’s blessing, we were able to overwhelm what could have become a potential disaster beyond words. One may call such a scene ‘romantic.’ Perhaps that would have been the moment where I should have confessed to her. Perhaps share a kiss? That’s how that sort of thing works; yes? Two warriors, victorious in their pursuits, succumbing to their long-repressed desires. In those stories Candela loved so much, it always seemed to play out that way.

Almost always. There was that one spy novel she complained for an entire week about.

Despite my successful duel with Cliff fresh upon my mind, I set aside enough space to recall what I’d observed of Candela and Arlo.

(Due to the sheer number of witnesses, Spark and Sierra’s battle was not worth recalling and was quite straightforward; to this day, and apparently to Sierra’s chagrin, people still speak of it extensively.)

I had witnessed the Valors; leader and traitor, from a distance; the unreadable faces; the wordless, pre-battle lingering. The reflection of the sunlight in Arlo’s spectacles from my position obfuscating the legibility of his emotions--while Candela, so expressive as can be with her enrapturing eyes, was no more different from when challenging one of our trainers. She radiated so much vivacity; and yet, she told me absolutely nothing.

...That was the point; wasn’t it?

My recollection was suddenly interrupted by that familiar voice so warm and bubbly: “I guess we won’t have any notes to compare tonight, huh?”

“...I suppose not,” I replied. Of course not; we were uncovering details at an amazing pace; my personal concerns aside.

Still, my chest began to ache, caused only by what I could only ascertain was due to tension. Candela; invite me to something after our dinner with the Professor. Ask me something, anything. A showcase battle? A doubles battle with Spark and the Professor? Chess? Would you… Care to spend the night? Anything? I couldn’t look at her. I looked at everything and everyone else around me but her. I knew that if I did, she’d call me a Piplup and ask what was wrong. Not that I minded, but I wasn’t ready to allow myself to react to that the way I desired to do so in public.

She said nothing.

Before I could take command of the situation and extend my own invitation, I finally directed my eyes where she was supposed to be.

She was already gone.

I last glimpsed her waving to Spark and Professor Willow before mounting her Rapidash and taking out beyond the valley’s treeline.

I took a step forward to call out to her, to simply give her the similar dismissal/greeting that I often did by announcing her name; but the echo of the sound of my heel clicking down on a flat rock seized me by surprise, thus disrupting my usual vocal range into a far more embarrassing octave.

It was the reverberation of both my voice and that step that suddenly alarmed me. Something about that echo, in my mind’s auditory hallucinations, made it feel as if I were speaking in a chamber.

No, a theatre.

What would have been something of a charm in a natural, open space--to hear one’s voice echoing in such a way--triggered a visualization of all the notes that I had taken, and what I had bore witness to today.

Something’s up. I was now beyond determined to find out just what it was.

Chapter 2 // Chapter 3

[mcdynamite]

[Spoilers] I think GoT 8.05 made perfect sense, and here’s why:

 Hello people of Tumblr! I’ve seen a lot of people bashing the most recent episode of Game of Thrones for a number of reasons and I want to step up to the plate and go to bat for the show. To clarify, I dislike D&D as much as pretty much everyone else who watches the show. I think the writing has been lazy, the dialogue has been lacking, and the lead in to some of the things that have happened this season could definitely be better. But everything that happened in 8.05 makes sense, and I actually liked the episode. This is why.

Cersei’s Demise is kinda perfect.

I know a lot of us, myself included, were looking forward to a brutal, sadistic death for a brutal, sadistic woman. But here’s the thing... in its own way, it was a totally brutal way for her to go out. Think about it, Cersei has spent pretty much her entire life talking her way out of things, manipulating people, and in general feeling more powerful than everyone else around her, including her family. She died finally realizing that she was completely helpless and all hope was lost. She died knowing that her arrogance and often unnecessary brutality was what had cost herself, her children, the man she loves, and even her own father their lives. 

She couldn’t sass the collapsing rock to death. She couldn’t stall and wait for The Mountain to come to her aid. She couldn’t do anything but break down and cry and tell Jaime she wanted their baby to live, trapped in the same underground passages where she vowed to destroy all three of Dany’s dragons. Cersei wasn’t publicly executed in front of thousands of onlookers. She died UNDERGROUND, unthought of and uncared for by anyone else in the world but Jaime. She died the same death as all of the innocent citizens who died that day in part because of her own arrogance. It wasn’t special. It was lonely, hidden, and desperate - a fitting end for a woman who’s lived her whole life believing in her own importance.

And speaking of Cersei, even Jaime’s apparent regression makes some sense.

Ah, Jaime Lannister, one of the most emotionally complicated men in all of Westeros. I’m not gonna lie, this disappointed me because I had hoped for better for Jaime, but not because it didn’t make sense. We were ALL rooting for Jaime to ditch Cersei, become the noblest man in the whole world and just be with Brienne, who clearly loves him. But if you take a minute to think about it, while Jaime’s character development has been significant, it never really veered away from loving Cersei. 

He’s always been doing what’s best for her, and yes, that includes when he left her to head North. Jaime did that because humanity was in danger, and as such, Cersei was in danger. Barely over a season ago in 7.03, Jaime tells Olenna Tyrell that his love for Cersei has grown beyond his control. He openly admits it and tells Olenna that he doesn’t believe people will care how Cersei took the throne once they’re living in the world she built. He clearly still loves Cersei here, and while he’s tempering some of her most heinous ideas, like flaying Olenna alive, he’s still carrying out her orders. “For Cersei,” as he always says.

Jaime’s love for Cersei went far beyond his control. It was almost more like an addition than true love. His love for Brienne was pure and kind, but even the purest love can’t sway the grasp of an addition. Cersei was all Jaime had ever known, so even if he loved Brienne, even if he knew Cersei was hateful, even if he knew she was doing unspeakable things to the people of Westeros, it STILL makes sense that he went back. It’s legitimately not at all different from some abusive relationship in real life. One partner may realize that the other is abusive and hateful, but they can’t bring themselves to walk away, and when they do, they may go back. That doesn’t make them bad people, and it certainly doesn’t “undo” all of Jaime’s character development over the course of the series. 

Jaime Lannister is an immensely complicated character, and this is GAME OF THRONES we’re talking about. It’s a very human show. So frankly, if he has genuinely left Cersei without a second glance, that would have been immensely disappointing. It’s just not how people work, not after admitting how deep in the relationship he was literally just 9 episodes prior and only leaving to protect mankind from being destroyed.

And finally, let’s talk about the psychotic break of Daenerys Targaryen.

First, just a quick reminder at how utterly human this show is. We’ve got all sorts of realistic depictions of human nature in Game of Thrones. We have very real depictions of PTSD (looking at you, Theon and Sansa), realistic depictions of the horrors of slavery, realistic depictions of racism and ableism, the list goes on for miles. It’s made abundantly clear throughout the series that the Targaryens have a strong family history of mental illness, so here we go people. Let’s talk about mental illness.

Obviously, there are no therapists in Westeros to diagnose Dany with any particular illness, but it’s reasonable to hypothesize that Dany is experiencing psychosis, also known as a “psychotic break”. Something important to not about psychosis: it’s sort of like a break from reality, so the way someone behaves during a psychotic break is not at all who they normally are as a person. And here’s another thing about psychosis: YOU DO NOT SHOW SIGNS OF IT YOUR ENTIRE LIFE, especially not major ones. Not every person who commits a heinous act of violence grew up murdering small animals and saying sadistic things to family members and friends as a child. I’ve seen a lot of anti-Mad Queen Dany arguments online, and I’d like to debunk a few of them with regards to how mental illness often actually works.

1. Dany was an abused child, why would she hurt children?

Yikes, you guys. This is a really weak argument. Many studies have shown that childhood trauma is associated with greater disposition towards psychosis later in life. Obviously not everyone who has gone through a childhood trauma will experience psychosis, but it can actually be a direct contributing factor to a psychotic break.

2. Dany has always showed compassion to innocent people like the slaves across the sea, so why doesn’t she now?

Again, psychosis is not a direct reflection of who someone is as a person because it represents a break from reality. You don’t have to be an intrinsically horrible person to do something bad when you’re not in control.

3. The warning signs were there, but they were too weak to justify what happened to King’s Landing.

When a person experiences psychosis, the EARLY warning signs (let’s just say for the purposes of this argument are things that happened prior to the start of season 8) are often subtle or even unnoticeable until you’re looking back retrospectively. These can include things like spending more time alone than usual (check), suspiciousness or uneasiness with others (check), and having no feelings at all (check, remember when she ended things with Daario and the show made a big deal out of how she didn’t really feeling anything about it?).

The slightly later warning signs (so, this season) include strong and inappropriate emotions (check, she wants to have sex with her nephew not too long after she accused him of trying to steal her throne), social withdrawal (check), odd beliefs (check, her belief that she was sent by god to change the world), and suspiciousness (check). The warning signs were there and frankly exactly what one would expect to see in someone in the prodome (or very early stages) of psychosis.

4. It just happened so suddenly, the build up wasn’t enough.

Actually, it SUPER was enough. Recently, Dany has lost two dragons, her most trusted advisor, her best friend (who she watched be beheaded) and has arrived in a country where nobody likes or trusts her. All of these are pretty freaking traumatic, and a traumatic event can trigger psychosis. Boom. Bang. It makes sense.

Don’t get me wrong, I understand why people are upset about this. We were all rooting for Dany, our hero who walked out of the flames all those years ago with three baby dragons clinging to her. What happened in 8.05 was devastating to watch, but it wasn’t unrealistic. It was actually very well done from a standpoint of how things actually work in the real world. You can be frustrated with how things turned out, you can be devastated by the destruction of King’s Landing and Dany’s break, and you can be pissed about the lazy writing of this season, but you shouldn’t be angry with the show runners for Dany’s descent into madness. It was actually remarkably well done.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk. Valar morguhlis.

EDIT: Obviously not everyone who goes through a period of psychosis is violent. It is an INCREDIBLY small percentage who actually inflict harm on others during a psychotic break. With that being said, rare as it may be, it does happen, it is a real thing that happens in real life, and cases in which a violent outburst happens are pretty spot-on similar to the way it happened to Dany. As someone who has experienced psychosis myself, I of all people know that not everyone becomes violent. But the portrayal of Dany throughout the whole show does align with the prodome of an exceedingly rare, but real, type of psychosis. I’m sincerely sorry for not clarifying this in my original post 💙

[lovingyousomuch]

Calm yourself

Long talk with yang yesterday, a talk that was at quite a deep emotional level and connection. He asked me to remember 3 lessons: (1) the one who loves seriously loses (2) a love that is begged is not worth it (3) there must be some lines that cannot be crossed. So much was said, but what was conveyed was not so much words, but this sense of selfless-love. 

Love exists in so many forms, so many permutations, but at its most base and raw, it is simply this deep feeling that you sincerely hope that the other party does well and is happy, and you’re happy because of that, regardless of whether you’re the source of their happiness. And I have to learn this. I have to learn that if bev is not happy with me, I must let her go, I must because I love her so much. But precisely because I love her so much, I can only let her go if this will allow her to feel happier and take the pain myself. You’re a man, you have to man up. Not everything needs to be said, your pain is yours, your loss is yours, your love is yours. All that is necessary, if things come to worse, is just an understanding smile and a sincere well-wishes, a honestly raw confession that she will always hold a special place in the deepest recesses of my heart. 

I like to think we are the right people for each other but we met at the wrong time. And the objective truth is that, we are both perfect and imperfect. Perhaps we could have prevailed if we were together 1 or 2 years into the future. Perhaps we still will be. What is meant to be yours will be yours. Fate is a funny thing. It brought us together amongst this sea of people, in a school where people were so Western, we found each other, with similar values, language and a desire to love someone properly. I can only hope that fate will return you back into my embrace, where this time, I will do better, I will not let you feel hurt again, I will do my best to love you, to care for you, to part the dark clouds and be your sun, to prop you up when things are falling around you, to stand with you hand in hand, it’s you and me against the world. 

This hope is killing me from inside. I want so badly for it to happen, I really do. But all these things are outside of my control. And you have to learn to cope with things being outside your control. That’s just part of life. You will die trying to control things, and there will be a backlash effect. What you need to learn is to smile through this, handle your emotions. As yang said, when you yourself is positive, you radiate positive energy, and that’s exactly what I want for bev. Learn to be stronger yourself, strong enough so that you can protect her from the external turmoil. That���s what it means to be a family, having a home you can return to after you weather the craziness in the outside world, knowing that this is a place that you can find support, warmth, care and solace no matter how crazy things get outside. 

Remain hopeful. Hope for the best, things may still work out, but prepare yourself for the worst as well. Become strong. With each experience in life, whether good or bad, it’s a learning experience, an opportunity to strengthen yourself. And remember that if it comes to it, you have to, you must, let her go with sincere best wishes. Easier said than done, because who don’t want to possess the things they love, who don’t want to be the source of happiness for someone they love. But the purest form of love is to be happy for her if she’s happy. And of course, there can be a mix of emotions. Nobody says that you can’t have a breaking heart and yet feel happy for her at the same time. But if you really love her, you will let her go for her happiness and take the pain yourself. Please remember this. Some loves are not meant to be together, that’s the harsh and painful reality. 

[mollyamory-again]

And then I wrote a really long reaction post for Endgame...

Here’s the short form:  <3 <3 <3... ??  @#(*$A)(@#*!?! <3.....<3 ....?<3? <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 !!!

The super long form is below the cut...

So, I went into this movie with a lot of feelings, and I came out with a lot of feelings, and it's taking me some time to process them.

The first, and maybe the most important thing I want to say, is that regardless of my personal fannish/emotional reaction to some of the events -- the film itself was an absolute triumph.  I mean - it was amazing.  There were a great many things to love - and that is a list that includes some things I hated.  Love/hated.  Both!  The fact that they could bring a series of films that spans over a decade together in a way that had people laughing and crying in the theatres, often both at the same time - it's just truly, truly awesome.  It says something that they were able to build these real and true characters who feel important enough that their fates can actually break our hearts.  

So I applaud that, and I hope the film industry takes a good long look at these films and learns from them.  Audiences are willing to wait for the pay-off, we're willing to tackle difficult things, we're willing to fall in love with what we see on the screen if the writers and producers and directors put the effort into allowing it.

That said...

I really liked this movie overall, but I went into it really wanting two specific things for myself, and I didn't get them.  In fact I kind of got the opposite of them, and a lot of my coming to terms with the movie has been coming to terms with just... not getting what I wanted.  And finding a way to be okay with that.  

I wanted Tony to live - and if you're back here behind my spoiler cut, you know I didn't get that one.  It was really hard to lose him.  He was my favorite character in this whole crazy cast. I loved that he could be so wrong sometimes, and with so much utter conviction.  I loved that he could be terrified out of his mind and then just do the terrifying things anyway, because somebody had to, and he could.  I loved how smart he was, and how vulnerable he was, and how he built walls of words to defend himself and define himself.  I loved how hard he loved the people that HE loved, and how much he was willing to do for them.  I loved how great he was with kids (and I love that he got one of his own!) and I love how that seemed at least in part because he never finished growing up himself.

So while I am wrecked that this is the end of Tony in this particular strand of the comics universe, I can't deny that it is 100% true to who he was. He was always going to be the guy who would do this, if it needed to be done.  And it did, so he did it, and it broke my heart - but in the end I have to be okay with it, because yeah.  That was Tony Stark, distilled down to his purest self.  I hated it, but I also loved it, and more importantly I think, I bought it.

I also really would have loved to have a kind of on-screen farewell to my pairing, and I didn't get that, either.  I'm a Science Boyfriends kinda gal, and there was almost zero interaction between Bruce and Tony - there was zero relevant interaction.  But it is what it is - this was never going to be everything to all people, and that's one of the relationships that didn't get priority.  I'm okay with that, too - mainly because its absence means they didn't do anything TERRIBLE to it, either!  When it comes to my pairings, I'd far rather TPTB leave them alone than do something I don't like.  That said - it would have been nice if they'd you know, exchanged a couple of lines?  And it would have been SUPER nice if Bruce had been around to react to Tony's death. Getting past it, getting past it.... ;)

My biggest fear going into this movie was that it would kill my fannishness about the Avengers.  I just recently rediscovered it, and I've been writing like a MAD thing.  I've stayed up too late writing, I've gotten up way to early to write... I've written through nights when I was supposed to be raiding with my online pals, or watching stuff with my housemates.  I've definitely done quite a lot of writing when I was supposed to be working! And it's been fun, and it's felt really good, and I just didn't want to lose it.  I missed fandom and other fans, and I missed caring so much about characters and pairings.  Having it all back again these past couple of months has been a blast -- so I went into Endgame a) pretty sure they were going to kill Tony and b) pretty sure that killing Tony would kill my fannish joy.

I am happy to report it did not.  I'm still in love, and I'm still writing like crazy.  I gave myself some pretty stern talking-tos in the lead-up to the movie, along the lines of "Are you really going to let a couple of rich white geekboys decide what happens to YOUR Tony Stark?" and in short form, "CANON IS NOT THE BOSS OF ME!"  I think it helped.  I'm still here, anyway!

There are a few other things I really didn't like.  One - the CGI for Bruce was a horror show for me.  It landed right in the Uncanny Valley, and I could barely stand to look at him on screen.  Every time he showed up, it was like a cartoon character appearing in my live action show.  I think that actually may have helped me with the Tony thing, though -- because it yanked me out of the movie when Bruce was onscreen, and that gave me the distance I needed to not become a puddle of shivering misery on the floor when Tony died saving the world.

Don't get me wrong - I really do like that he's able to integrate now.  I like that he has control.  Still, I'm not sure this is a road I ever really want to go down in my writing.  I like Hulk too much to want to see him essentially killed by Bruce (which is kind of how I'm reading this.)  I get that Hulk IS Bruce IS Hulk and if I were his therapist I'd be all over it.  But I'm not his therapist - I'm one of his slashfic writers.  And as such, I prefer him splintered and angsting over it.  :)

I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about Natasha, and I'm not sure they're particularly coherent.  I think if Endgame had happened exactly the way it did, WITHOUT the disgusting Ultron lines about how she's a monster because she can't have kids, I'd be fine.  As it is, Ultron happened and then Natasha gave herself up for a guy with a family, and from a purely Doyle-ist perspective I find that sequence of events suspect, and deeply gross.  

On the other hand, from a purely Watsonian perspective, I fully agree with what  <a href="https://cesperanza.tumblr.com/post/184622436895/i-cant-believe-that-as-a-prominent-woman-in">cesperanza had to say about Nat</a>, so I'm just going to let that stand for me, too.

Probably the final thing I didn't like was fat!Thor.  I do get the arguments on the other side of this, that it's cool to show even a super hero can get depressed and live off cheez whiz and get fat and disaffected. But I also think that's not all there is to this; I think you don't make Chris Hemsworth run around in a fat suit without on some level doing it for the point-and-laugh. And I find that kind of "joke" toxic and disgusting.  I'm not going to go on and on about it here, but in short just - a world of no from me on that.  

So what's my score so far?  2 things I wanted but didn't get, 3 things I didn't like?  But on the bright side...it's now time to move along to the bright side! And the bright side is pretty damn bright.

I was incredibly happy that Tony and Steve were able to repair their relationship.  Civil War was such a tough movie to watch, and while there was at least a thread of hope for them at the end of it, this resolution was a long time coming.  They're so very different in their worldviews and methods, but so very alike in their absolute dedication to protecting people and doing the right thing - the friction has always made perfect sense, but getting to see them come to terms with each other ... that's something I have really wanted for a long time.  I was extremely sad watching Tony just chew into Steve at the beginning of Endgame, but not at all surprised - Tony was completely done in, physically, mentally and emotionally.  Just seeing Tony that physically wasted and weak was hard.  Steve's reactions to it were perfect, though, just perfect.  I don't think I could have asked for any more than I was given for the two of them.  

I loved Tony's relationship with his daughter - in fact, I love Tony's relationship with every character below the age of majority that he's ever been on screen with.  Tony may be my OTP (One True Parent) in fact - he's just so deeply interested in these kids (Harley, Peter, Morgan) as human beings.  And he treats them oddly as equals, while still somehow managing to parent well for each of them.  He's hilarious and snarky and caring and he connects.  I don't know, I just adore it.  We didn't get to spend a lot of time with Morgan, but it was obvious she adored Tony and was well on her way to growing up to be just like him, and I wholly approve.  

And before I leave the topic of kids - Tony mourning Peter broke my heart, and his love for Peter when he came back knitted it back together again (that hug omg, </3 -> <3) and then Peter's breakdown when Tony was dying, finally calling him "Tony" instead of Mr. Stark or sir...there it goes, heart broken again.  BROKEN.

I and the rest of the universe loved Steve wielding Mjolnir (and Thor KNEW it!). We all saw this coming from way back at the party in Ultron, and a part of what this series of movies has managed to do that I love is take moments like that, a billion movies ago at this point, and pay them off one by one.  Sure, it's fan service, but because they were patient, it feels earned.  I adore it.

I'm going to wrap this up for now because if I don't, it's never getting posted - I have a ton of thoughts and even MORE feelings about this movie, and I'll be posting more of them because how can I NOT.  But I do want to talk a little about one of the major things that literally filled me with joy: 

The return to Avengers 2012!!! <3 <3 <3

I just want to go back and live there - like, I want to build a tinyhouse with a telescope in the window and just stare at it all from the shadows forever.  I could literally sit for days upon days of "what happened in Avengers 2012 around what we saw on the screen in Avengers 2012" - that could be an entire TV series and I would tune in for every freaking episode.  It was SO. MUCH. FUN!  From "feel free to clean up..." to "take the stairs" and "SO MANY STAIRS" to Loki pretending to be Steve and Loki stealing the tesseract and poofing out to Thor saving Tony with his hammer and both of them so jazzed about it... OMG.  I just love it all, and I'm so happy they did it.  I loved everything around it - I loved Bruce trying half-heartedly to smash, I loved the Sorceress Supreme up on the rooftop fighting the Chitauri, I loved Bruce getting smacked out of Hulk and Hulk on a lounge chair with a sunhat over his face.  EVERYTHING.  I just.  <3

I went into Endgame expecting the worst for my favorite character, and I got the worst for him.  But the more I think about this movie, the more I find that it's a happy place for me. It gave me what I didn't want and it made me like it.  Like - a LOT.  I went into it expecting/fearing that it would kill my fannishness about Avengers, and it's done the exact opposite - it's brought me back into fandom, back into contact with fans, back into thinking all the thoughts and feeling all the feelings and wanting to share them with other people who are thinking and feeling about the same thing.  

I feel like this entire series of movies, this slate of characters, this universe they've built - it's a gigantic wonderful amazing heartbreaking heartmending accomplishment, and I'm just super glad it's all here, and that I got to experience it all.  

(And I can't wait to write a metric fuckton of stories that ignore it! Tony may be gone in this timeline, but he's never going to die in mine, damn it!)

[the-marvel-imagines-blog]

Madness | Chpt. 24

Chapter Title: “The Greatest Weakness”

Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character (Eva)

Word Count: 8,489

Warnings: I’m still sorry, but warnings would be too spoiler-y.

Name Pronunciations: Hjalmar: “He-all-mar” | Aaldir: “All-deer” | Ephinea: “Eh-fin-ee-uh”

Summary: Her.

A/N: The time has come. Once again, thank you all so, so, so much for reading <3

Tagged: @teddyboobear @alledeglyfunny @xletmetaste-yoursmilex @itsknife2meetu @mynameisyara @j-j-ehlby-writes @jillilama-blog (anyone who wants to be tagged can message me and ask. It’s not a problem at all)

*Loki’s POV*

She had already begun tangling her bare body in the covers, and I smiled down at her, still pressing kisses against glowing, sun-kissed skin. The light from the moon and stars seeped into the room from the balcony, but I dared not gaze up at their magnificence for fear that the goddess in my chambers would disappear the moment my eyes left her sleeping form. The past weeks, Eva had seemingly grown even more beautiful than before, which I thought to be impossible. Her skin would glow under the midday sun on our strolls through the garden. Her eyes were a more vibrant green, and she visited the sweet shop in the village nearly every day, dragging me along with her. She would spend just as much time in there as we had as children when Aaldir would give her a small bag of coins and send us out into the village to spend them as we pleased. As children, we spent so much time roaming the aisles of the small shop, racks of sweets lining the wall from the floor to the ceiling. Even then, I found more pleasure watching the reflection of the sweets in her eyes than choosing for the ones I wanted.

In our more recent visits to the same shop, she would stand closer to me, allowing me to wrap my arms around her when she stopped to gaze at the hundreds of choices. When I would press a kiss to the top of her head, her laugh was sweeter than every piece of candy in the little shop combined. The shopkeeper hadn’t asked for any payment, no matter how much Eva insisted. All he did was smile and politely decline the payment. It happened each and every time, the smile only growing as time passed. She looked to be filled with more happiness and life than ever before, but I attributed that to the current hopefulness that I had been feeling. Eva and I were tied to each other, our individual moods directly impacting the others. I had recently spoken with her father once again, just as I had so many years prior, and I kept the ring my mother had forged for the occasion close. Hjalmar and I had spoken to each other recently about my upcoming proposal, but all that was left was the conversation I would have with my father the following day.

Then, I wouldn’t have to hide the ring any longer, and she would be its new keeper.

I pressed one last kiss to her bare shoulder before untangling our bodies and slipping my body from her tight grasp. She shifted as I rose from the bed, and I froze in place, hoping that it wouldn’t wake her up. She had been fatigued more often than not lately, so I was even more careful to not disturb her rest. Once she found another comfortable position, she let out a deep sigh before falling even deeper into her peaceful slumber. I rose from the bed, pulling on some clothes to maintain my modesty. Usually, I would’ve taken the sheets, but she was so tangled up in them that if I had tried to slip them from her, she would have woken up. Rising to my feet, clad in nothing more than a pair of loose-fitting trousers, I walked over to the desk her father had made for me long before. Within the top drawer, the ring had been hidden within a stack of papers between the first poem she ever wrote for me and the first poem I’d ever written for her. That had been where our love blossomed, and the ring symbolized the new journey our love would embark on.

Reaching for it, I pulled it out, once more admiring the craftsmanship of it. All I did was tell my mother what I wanted, and she saw to it that it was created in my image. Every night after we made love, I’d find the ring, debating on whether or not to ask for her hand time and time again. It was the purest act of love, and the intensity of my emotions drove me to the point of wanting to ask her to marry me each night. I stared down at the ring, feeling the butterflies in my chest, knowing that my proposal would happen the following day after my discussion with my father. While he had never been partial to me, I had so much hope that he would see how happy she made me, and maybe that would be enough. I knew the words I wanted to say to her when I asked her to marry me. I’d been rehearsing them since the day we met as children. Even as a child, I knew that there would come a day when I would make her my princess, that she would someday be my wife. Throughout the years, the individual paths of our lives merged and become one and the same.

Knowing how quickly she could wake up and see the surprise that was meant for the next day, I placed the ring back in its hiding spot before padding over to the balcony. I had spent my whole life rehearsing the words I would say to Eva when I asked her to be mine, but I hadn’t given much thought to how I would ask my father. I’d asked everyone else in our lives, everyone else who was close to Eva. My father, however, was the deciding force. What would I say to him? How would I approach such a question? Was it customary for me to come out and ask him? Would it have been too formal? Did he want me to approach him as the Allfather or as my father? Would it have been too inappropriate to tell him how deeply my love ran for her, how it was a part of my very being? Should I show him what I had tried to hide for so long-the side of me who was enthralled by a woman who was deemed a “peasant?”

As I lost myself deep in thought, I didn’t feel her approaching warmth until those slender arms wrapped around my waist, “why do you stand out here all alone with your thoughts?” she asked, clearly having sensed some of my uncertainty and distress. I knew that my movement hadn’t woken her up, but it never took very long for her to feel my absence and crawl out of bed to find me. She pressed her soft lips to my back, pressing the gentlest kisses against my skin before I turned around and wrapped my arms around her body. Gods, she was so delicate, so soft, so warm. Forcing a smile, no matter how badly I wanted to, would’ve been a futile attempt at covering up my anticipation for the following day. She could see right through me. Reaching up and cupping my cheek with one of her hands, she kept the other locked around my waist, continuing to hold us close, “I can carry this with you, you know,” she reminded me.

“I know you would, my love, but you also know me. I like to lose myself in my thoughts,” I said, not technically lying to her but just not giving her every ounce of the truth. I had, in fact, been lost in thought, but it wasn’t nothing as I tried to insinuate it being. I leaned down, pressing a kiss to her lips, knowing that it would be the only way to soothe her, to keep her from worrying that something was wrong. Melting into the kiss and melting further into my arms, my grasp tightened around her waist, keeping her body pressed against mine. While I had been the one to initiate the kiss, the gentle caress of her fingers on my jaw made me a slave to her. Her lips were intoxicating, leaving me dazed and euphoric each time I had even the slightest taste of them. When she pulled her lips from mine, I took our moment of silent reflection to plant a kiss to her forehead. She rested her head against my chest, her ear pressed to my heart to listen to the steady rhythm. She had taken the sheet with her when she left the bed, and it was wrapped around her like a makeshift dress, “I checked on Tony earlier today,” I noted, remembering what I’d forgotten to tell her earlier.

“And what did Heimdall say?” she asked, gazing out at the beautiful horizon.

I frowned, knowing that my words would only cause her heart to grow heavy, but I couldn’t keep it from her. Heimdall was usually much gentler with her. He would give me the facts, no matter how difficult they were to process, and I’d relay them to her as gently as possible. She was strong enough to handle them, but he couldn’t bring himself to break her heart, “he’s still having nightmares. His captivity is still fresh even though it’s been months. He may need you again soon,” I answered, knowing that if she could, she would leave immediately to be with him, but that wasn’t what was best for him. If she was so protective over Tony, I wondered how fiercely she’d love our future children. The thoughts excited me, but they also concerned me. She had proven time and again that she would sacrifice her life for Tony, and bringing more people into the fold could prove to be dangerous.

“I fear that my presence is putting an even greater burden on him,” she sighed, airing out the thoughts in her mind. She never tried to keep things from me, as there was never a need to do so. We shared everything-aside from the obvious surprise that I had for her. I felt the conflict growing within her as she continued to process my words, her emotions fluctuating between the uncertainty, sorrow, and guilt, “each time I return, I give him the memories back so that he’ll let me comfort him, but each time I leave, I have to take those memories away once more. I fear it’s causing him more distress in the long run. What if I’m the worst thing for him?”

I shook my head, “you’re his person, Eva, just as you are mine. You guide him through these turbulent times in his life, and, even though he doesn’t remember how he made it through, it’s because you were by his side,” I argued, understanding her hesitation and worries. All we ever wanted was what was best for him. We both had deep connections to Howard and Maria, but neither of us expected just how much we would fall in love with Tony when he came along. Seeing Eva with him, the day he was born, made me realize just how deeply I desired a family with her. He had been crying up until the moment Howard handed him over to Eva, and that was the moment they clicked. He became the closest thing we had to a child, and we both cherished him. She always tread so lightly when it pertained to things of that nature, decisions that involved him. When she made the choice to wipe his memory of us, it was what was best for him. I could remember the way she cried that night, the way she secluded herself from everyone, even me. She had been so heartbroken, so devastated. Each time she returned from seeing Tony, it was something similar, almost like she was losing him all over again. Then, there were times when I knew she couldn’t do it, so I would go in her place, “do you want me to go with you this time?”

“I’ll visit him tomorrow when you speak with your father,” she replied, swallowing back the lump in her throat that always showed up when we spoke of Tony. She was a worrier, and she placed the most important people in her life at the center of her universe. I was lucky enough to be a part of that group, and so was Tony. The subject was a touchy one, but she managed to pull through with nothing more than a few tears and some rampant emotions that she’d be able to contain quickly. Clearing her throat, she pulled back just enough to meet my eyes, “for now, though, come back to bed with me,” she urged, reaching for one of my hands and intertwining our fingers before pulling me back into my chambers, the cool midnight breeze carrying us back to the bed we shared.

I took my spot in the bed first, upon her unspoken request. She waited until I crawled into the bed and found a comfortable position before she curled up with me, nestling her body into my warmth. We laid in silence as she listened to the steady beating of my heart. She was anxious. I felt it. She was lost in thought about the outcome of tomorrow, just as I had been, but we were anxious for separate reasons. The way she clung to me was the way I would end up clinging to her in the middle of the night, holding onto the only thing that ever felt real but also the only thing that ever felt so perfect that it could’ve very well been a dream. Her fingers danced along my bare chest, tracing letters and shapes into my skin, “I love you, Loki, you know that, right?” she asked like it was possible for me to forget. It was hard to believe sometimes, but I never forgot or doubted her. She never gave me any reason to do so. Still, in those moments of uncertainty, she often pegged it on herself, as if she was somehow failing at showing me all the love I didn’t deserve. 

“And I love you more,” I replied, using the words we always did. It was especially moving when we rode off into battle together. She’d bring her pale white horse up to mine and lean over to kiss me, pulling me into our own silent moment before the chaos of battle ensued, and she’d tell me that she loved me. My response was always the same: I love you more.

She propped herself up on her elbow, her brown curls cascading across my chest. Her emerald eyes were filled with hope and a hint of desperation. She knew that something was off. It was impossible to hide my troubled mind from her because we could feel the change in each other as if it were a change within ourselves, “please, then, open up to me. I can see that something is on your mind. Something is plaguing you. You should know by now that nothing you say will make me love you any less,” she reminded me, her words being ones that comforted me.

Still, I couldn’t tell her what troubled me. I couldn’t tell her how nervous I was about asking my father for his blessing to propose to her. Unlike everything in my life, this wasn’t something I could share with her. Instead, I just grinned up at her, “I was just wondering which of our future children will manage to steal the covers more than you do!” I teased her.

The smile that spread across her lips was enough to wash away every ounce of my anxiety. I no longer cared about my upcoming talk with my father. I no longer flitted through the possible scenarios, which only frightened me even more. When she was with me, looking at me the way she did, I couldn’t think of anything else but her. I treated every glimpse I had of her like it was my last, like she was my final breath of sweet air before I parted this life. An angelic laugh escaped her lips, “oh, you’re one to speak!” she playfully pushed my arm.

Looking up into those eyes, those captivating, wonder-filled eyes, it finally dawned on me. Solemnity fell over me as she continued to smile. I questioned what great deeds I had done to be blessed with a woman more regal than a queen, sweeter than a lady, more delicate than a flower, more radiant than a star, more powerful than an army. It was the moment I saw our future in her eyes, and I was excited, “I want them to be like you.”

She furrowed her eyebrows, tears rising to her eyes like they always had when we talked of our future children, a family I was more than ready to start immediately, “and what’s so wrong with you? Why can’t they be like their father?” she asked.

“I don’t want them to be like me, not with all I’ve done,” I voiced my insecurities.

Eva didn’t even need to hear my words in order to silence my doubts. The pained look in her eyes when I spoke was enough to make me rethink the words that had just been upon my lips. She spoke, “we’ve both done things we’re not proud of. We’ve both taken lives on the battlefield, and no matter how worthy a cause we were fighting for, we left pieces of our innocence there. You and I have both made mistakes, but your light still shines so bright, Loki. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. I don’t understand how you can loathe the person I love so dearly, the person who brings me more joy than anyone else ever has, the one I want to share every moment of every day with,” she murmured, her eyes becoming brighter as her thoughts swirled around her head. I saw the life blossoming within her as her passion shined through. She smiled once more, “I want our children to be just like you. I want them to be poetic, graceful, funny, and full of life. I want them to be these beautiful, feral children who know not of the chains we are bound by. I want them to run free, turning the world into their own personal adventure. I want them to be curious like you. I want them to be creative. I want them to know no binds aside from that which connects us to all living things: love. I want them to be just like you, Loki: strong, capable, fierce, and loving beyond words.”

“Nova,” I mused, testing the name once more on my tongue. It was the name for our future son. I smiled at the mere sound of it, “the new beginning,” I added.

“And Aurora,” Eva replied, a lone tear cascading down her cheek as her smile became even more radiant than before. I knew how emotional-how passionate-she became when speaking of our future family. There were so many other names, but she was especially connected to the one for our first daughter. Her eyes fluttered closed as she envisioned what she would look like, “she’d have your hair and my eyes. She’ll be the dawn of a new day.”

*Steve’s POV*

Everyone in the tower was exhausted. Between trying to keep Thor under control and sitting vigil at Eva’s bedside, no one was getting enough sleep. I could still remember Tony’s panicked, fear-filled voice when he called to tell Bruce to meet him at the Avengers tower as soon as possible. Bruce, of course, began panicking, thinking that something happened to Tony, but our worst fears surfaced when Tony uttered only two words: “It’s Eva.” That was all any of us needed to know. I couldn’t stay away-none of us could-so we packed up and left for the tower in the heart of the city. When I first saw her, it was nothing short of horrific. Eva had always been, since we met at the expo, the woman I was madly, deeply, purely in love with, but I was always more than aware that I’d never have that one chance I so desperately wanted from her. Underneath the romantic love I harbored for her, though, was a platonic love. She was my family, the one touchstone to my past that I had left. She was my world, and I had to see it crumble before my very eyes.

Thor had been the one to restart her heart, but Tony and Bruce were the ones who struggled every single day for the past week and a half to bring her back-to keep her alive. She just wasn’t waking up. In the short time that I’d known her in the 40’s, she was this immovable force. She did nothing she didn’t want to do, and that showed once more when we reconnected in New York when we fought Loki’s army together. Her stubbornness was endearing up until her life depended on it. She was proving to be just as immovable as she was so long ago. It was just another reminder of what I had missed for so long. We all sat vigil at her bedside, never leaving her on her own for even a moment. What if that single moment had been the one where she opened her eyes? Aaldir, Eva’s father, had sat with her from the moment they arrived up until the moment he had to leave to take care of some of the promises she asked of him. Thor, on the other hand, refused to leave her side, much like Tony, until he was nearly forced away from her.

The most surprising sight, though-aside from finding Natasha curled up in bed next to Eva, sleeping silently with her red hair looking unkempt-happened right before I entered her room the last time, ready to sit with that goddess of a woman. She sat in the chair, staring at Eva’s peaceful face. It was the closest they had been in far too long, and though Eva had taken the memory of her from her mind, it was as if she could remember everything. It was as if she was reliving her past just by gazing upon Eva’s features. I was shocked that she’d even have the urge to be in the room since she didn’t “know” Eva, but it was clear when I saw the desperate look in her eyes. She felt the connection. She didn’t understand it, but she felt something. Clint was the one to remove her from the room, ushering her out into the living area where she would end up busying herself trying to keep Tony preoccupied, as his insistence on being with Eva was becoming more and more harmful to him. Hopefully, he’d be able to get some sleep with her around, but I knew better.

Over the past few days, the color had slowly begun to come back to Eva’s cheeks, but I was uncertain if it was my eyes playing tricks on me. A part of me wondered if it had all been just a part of my wishful thinking. She still looked so weak, so fragile. It was very unlike her, though. Eva had always been a force to be reckoned with, but when I fought my way to her side after Tony and Thor arrived with her, she looked so lifeless. As I sat by her bed, my hands enveloped the one at her side, “you know, I don’t even know if you can hear me, or if you’d even listen if you could. In a way, I hope you aren’t because you’ve done more than enough listening just in the time I’ve known you. You shouldn’t have to hear any more words out of my mouth, but...I can’t help but feel like I need to speak, or the silence is going to kill me,” I confessed to the sleeping beauty in the bed.

“Everyone here is worried sick, and I know that it’s the last thing you’d want. You’ve spent your life worrying about others, but you don’t like it when others worry about you. Thor isn’t handling it well. He keeps trying to bust in here every ten minutes, wanting to see if you’re okay, wanting to know if you’re awake. I think he’s blaming himself for what happened. Clint’s doing his best to keep everyone busy and preoccupied, but it’s only because he can pull himself together in the situations when everyone else is falling apart. If things go south, though, any...further south than they’ve already gone, he’ll be the first one to lose it, and I think I’d bet money on it,” I revealed to her as if she were wide awake. The one sided conversation wasn’t ideal, but it was what I needed, or I would lose it.

I yawned, the fatigue catching up to me quickly, “Natasha is keeping busy, but it’s like pulling teeth to get her away from you. Once she’s away, she’ll take a nap or two, but when she’s with you, that girl is stuck to your side like glue. She’s just as immovable as you,” I chuckled, thinking of the times I nearly had to pick Nat up and carry her out of the room, “Bruce hasn’t spoken much, but that’s understandable. Him and Tony were the ones who did some serious work on you when you got here. It was a situation he didn’t think he’d have to be in again, especially not with someone he admires the way he admires you. He’s taking it pretty hard, but I don’t think anyone has taken it as hard as Tony.”

I sighed, thinking of how disheveled Tony looked when I saw him, how exhausted he seemed whenever he spoke. He was constantly on the verge of passing out, and he was becoming more and more agitated the more time passed without any changes from Eva. He was becoming reckless, and it hurt to see him like that. I could still recall following him down to his workshop on that first night. Aaldir had removed Tony from Eva’s room, sensing that it was for the best that he try to get some sleep, but Tony decided to do anything but sleep. He went down to his lab, and I followed, wanting to be there to support him in the event that he needed it. However, all I did was witness him destroy his lab, his workshop, the place he treated as his sanctuary. He destroyed it and everything inside it. Once it was over, having stayed back and allowed him the opportunity to let out his anger and frustration, I made my presence known.

Never in my life had I seen a man break down like that before. I wanted to break down and cry. I wanted to scream and yell and blame someone for it. I wanted to go into a fit of rage. I wanted to be angry, but I had other people I needed to think about. I knew about the connection Eva had to Tony and vice versa, so his reaction was more than understandable, and it was part of the reason why I didn’t let my emotions out in a similar fashion. When I finally confronted Tony, he stood completely still, tears streaming down his cheeks as he looked around at the chaos that took the place of his-usually tidy-workshop. The only words that came from his mouth as I pulled him into an embrace were: “it’s my fault.” It was enough to elicit the tears I’d been holding back, and the two of us shed tears of uncertainty with one another. All the while, I silenced his insistence that it was his fault. It wasn’t.

I cleared my throat, not wanting the tears to start again, “I know I shouldn’t be...giving you advice, but if you fight for anyone...it should be Tony,” I murmured, my bottom lip quivering as I attempted to hold back the ever-present tears. It was as if her situation was sinking in slowly, and the longer she went without waking up, the more real it all became, “the thing about Tony is that...you’re his whole world, Eva...just like you’re mine. He’s lost without you here, and losing you is going to break him. He’s one of the strongest people I’ve ever known, but...everyone has their breaking point, and this is his. He’s scared of what life would look like without you. I’d be lying if I told you that we all weren’t just as worried, but I know you especially don’t want to leave him like this. I know the way you look at him, and...if there’s any part of you that’s able to fight, I’m asking that you do it for Tony. Do it for Loki, for her…” I trembled, the tears finally escaping my eyes as I gripped her hand.

“A part of me wants to ask you to fight for me, but...I can’t bring myself to ask anything more of you for the rest of my life. It’s unfair. I’ve missed you for far too long. Not a day went by that I didn’t think of you or the dress you wore the night we met-the pretty blue one that made you look like a doll. I still thought of the white ribbon in your hair that matched the high heels you wore, the ones that made you that much taller than me. I thought of how red your lips were, almost as vibrant as the color of your eyes. If you told me then that you were from another planet, I would’ve believed you because I’d never seen someone so beautiful before in my life,” I laughed through the overwhelming emotions. My bottom lip continued to quiver, tears clinging to my lashes, “from the moment I left the expo to this very moment, you’ve been at the forefront of my mind. Your face has been the one I see when I close my eyes, and I don’t know if I can go back to missing you. I’ve missed you for long enough, Eva, so...even though it’s selfish, I’m asking you to fight for me, too.”

Knowing that tears would be the last thing she’d want, I tried to pull myself together, feeling more tired than ever. The energy we had all dumped into keeping each other stable was emotionally and physically draining. We were all terrified, but none of us talked about it with each other, almost as if talking about it would only make the situation more real, and we were desperately trying to treat it like a dream we would soon wake up from. I leaned down to press my lips to her knuckles, trying to will away the coolness of her skin. It wasn’t the warm touch I had committed to memory. Forcing a smile, I rested my head on her abdomen, careful to steer clear of the wound that not even Tony and Bruce could fix. Right before my eyes fluttered closed, I fixated them on her beautiful face, “besides, you still owe me a dance,” I recalled a memory that seemed so recent and yet too long ago all at once. Then, my eyes fluttered closed, and the darkness of sleep enveloped me where I held her in my arms and danced with her once more.

*Eva’s POV*

My head rested against Howard’s shoulder. We were in the living room of his home, the static of the record player filling the silence as we continued to sway back and forth with one another. He wouldn’t let me go, and I didn’t really want him to. All I wanted was a moment or two with the people I’d gone so long without. The only ones I hadn’t gotten to see were Hjalmar and Bucky, two of the people I wanted to see the most. Still, I found comfort in Howard’s arms. It had been far too long, and I had forgotten just how much I missed his gentle demeanor. He wasn’t always cruel and harsh, but that side of him seemed to come out more with Maria and Tony; however, the man who stood before me was the man I met before it all, the man I met at the Expo, the man who asked me to marry him the very first night we met. He was young again, but he still had all the wisdom of his later years. As we swayed back and forth, his left hand holding my right one against his chest, I listened for a heartbeat that wasn’t there, but his voice cut through the peaceful silence, “my son...I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for him. I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve sacrificed to be by his side,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

I pulled away from him just enough to gaze up at him, “I look at none of what I did as a sacrifice. He is a gift, Howard, a miracle that you and Maria trusted me to look after, and all I can do is hope that I did it right.”

“How is he?” he asked, fighting back the emotion that was clear in his eyes. Howard wasn’t always good to Tony, but he loved his son.

“He’s...magical.”

“Is he better than me?” he pressed, pushing through the lump in his throat as his eyes watered.

I nodded my head, not even having to take a single second to think about it, “yes,” I answered honestly. Tony was a better man than Howard, but it didn’t mean that Howard was a bad man. Tony was the embodiment of all the good that was left in his father and so much more, “yes, he is,” I repeated, thinking of the man I had left behind, the man I didn’t know if I’d ever see again. I was selfish. Death-allowing myself the peace of it-would be my final choice and the only selfish one I’d ever made.

Howard nodded, a tear falling down his cheek, “then I’m proud,” he murmured, his voice trembling as he spoke of the man his son had become. Through his quivering lower lip, he spoke, “and that means you did do it right.”

The moment he spoke, I threw my arms around his neck, pulling our bodies close together, basking in the warmth I had missed from him. Howard was one of my very closest friends throughout my life. He had been one of the several who were born of the same star as me, and losing him was like losing a piece of myself. Losing him felt like I had cut out my heart and thrown it into the never-ending void. Being with him again-being back with so many of them-filled that void in my heart, but the longer I remained, the more the new void was growing. It was the one where the living still remained. It was as if I was losing them the same way I had once lost Howard and Charlotte and Maria and everyone else who had gone on before me. I held him as tightly as I could without breaking him, “I’ve missed this,” I noted, burying my face into his neck as I breathed in the sweet smell of him. It was similar to Tony’s. He smelled like his workshop.

“Not nearly as much as I’ve missed you,” Howard laughed, his voice still thick with emotions that he tried to suppress. He never liked being emotional, and that rang especially true when he was around me. He never needed to be a force of power when he was with me, but there had only been a small handful of times that I’d seen him cry. He grew silent, the pang of joy morphing into a bittersweetness that filled the very air around us. The sound of what he was about to say even drowned out the soft static of the record player. We just stood in the deafening silence, his body no longer swaying back and forth in that familiar rhythm, “you know you can’t stay, though, right?”

I furrowed my eyebrows, pulling away to gaze into his sad eyes. With my arms still wrapped around his neck, I took the opportunity to stroke the back of his neck like I did with Tony on more than one occasion. His stern, sad eyes stayed locked on mine, but they softened when he saw just how hopeful I was to have back even an ounce of what I once had. I cocked my head to the side, “would it be so bad if I did?” I asked, knowing from just our shortened visit with each other that he was just as eager to have this back as I was.

“It would,” that deep and familiar voice echoed out from behind me.

Hjalmar.

The moment I heard his voice, though, was the moment I was hurled back into the world of the living. My eyes shot open, and I pulled in a ragged breath like I hadn’t breathed in years. My eyes scanned the room I was in, and it looked so incredibly similar. We were back in New York at the tower. This was the room I’d spent a short stint in after the battle of New York as Tony looked me over to make sure I was okay. My near-death experience had frightened him, and he wouldn’t let me move until he made sure every wound was closed and every bruise was fading away. I could vividly remember how gentle his hands were and how delicately he treated me, as if I were a piece of fine china that, should he make even one wrong move, I would break into pieces.

Before I had the opportunity to grieve what I had lost-time with my brother-my eyes landed on the man in the room. The man out of time. The man who owned one of the brightest corners of my heart. Steve was slouched over in his chair, his head resting gingerly against my abdomen, careful not to graze the wound that was still so tender. The weakened state it left me in was still prevalent, but it no longer hurt the way it did at the beginning. I was unsure whether the pain became more tolerable after the intensity of the pain that the Extremis serum caused, or if the pain just faded with time. Either way, it was still uncomfortable, and I could tell that Steve had been cautious to not rest his head too close to it. Dark circles were visible beneath his closed eyes, and it was clear to see that he hadn’t slept well if he even slept at all. His left hand gripped the loose shirt I was in, balling it up in his hand that rested right in front of his face, nearly grazing his nose. His right hand was tucked beneath him and grasped my own.

He looked incredibly uncomfortable in the position, but I knew why he was doing it. I knew that it was just to be close to me, and I was grateful for that. If I had woken up to nothing but the empty walls staring back at me, I would’ve been far more willing to melt back into the nothingness I had. However, when I saw how desperate he looked, I knew that no matter what followed, I needed to fight. All that this life offered to me was embodied in the man before me. He embodied the life that I had grown comfortable without when I remembered what Death had taken from me, and in that moment, in the silence that fell over us, I heard my own heartbeat, and I remembered how beautiful this was. Nothing in death could compare to what I felt in life. It couldn’t compare to the wholeness I felt just looking upon the face of a man who had symbolized all that I loved about humanity.

I smiled down at him, the odd tear falling from my eye just as silently as the rain outside. I had no perception of time with the sky being as dark as it was. In the peace that Steve’s presence brought, all of the questions that threatened to plague my mind were set aside for the moment, and I lifted my left hand up to run my fingers through those silky smooth golden brown locks. I was careful not to wake him. Even though I wanted to throw my arms around him and hold him until I was pried away from him, his gentle, calm breathing kept me from it. He deserved sleep, regardless of how deeply I’d missed him. I hadn’t been in his presence since New York, and I had missed him dearly. I missed the way the room became warmer each time he entered it, the way his body tensed if anyone even cast their gaze over to me, the way his body stiffened when our hands brushed against each other, the way the color rose to his cheeks when I caught his eye, the way he averted his gaze and cleared his throat when I caught him looking at me.

The grass ring Loki had made for me was still secured around the proper finger of my left hand, and I smiled down at it, my eyes flickering away from the peaceful face of one of the most beautiful men I’d ever met. Of all that I’d lost-including my own life-Loki’s promise for our future wasn’t one of them. Suddenly, without any warning, I felt the shift. It was an awakening-one I was familiar with. The pain in my abdomen disappeared just as quickly as it had begun. The pain was gone completely, and all that was left was the fluttering of those little butterflies. This was the love I forfeited once before, a love I nearly forfeited again. My heart skipped a beat, and as if he could feel the slightest change within me, Steve’s eyes fluttered open, meeting mine. He sat up quickly when he realized that my eyes were open, and it was clear at that moment that my fate had been questionable for some time. He blinked a few times and focused those ocean blue eyes on me, “am I dreaming?” he asked, tears welling up in his already puffy eyes. It was too clear that he’d been crying more often than not, and I couldn’t help but feel guilty for prolonging the pain and worry that I’d caused.

I shook my head, the dam of emotions within me threatening to break. Every moment I wished to be close to him came rushing back, and that grief over not having him with me every moment of every day hit me all at once. My bottom lip quivered as I collected myself enough to speak, “I still owe you a dance,” I choked out before the tears began streaming down my cheeks. He gasped, struggling to hold back his own tears. I pulled my hand away from his, reaching up to stroke his silky smooth skin. The moment our skin touched, the first tear streamed down his cheek, and mine followed suit.

However, our moment of peace was cut short when the door to the room opened. Steve whipped around, disconnecting our bodies as that voice-the voice more moving than the vibrations of life itself-sounded, “Tony wanted me to ask you if…” her voice trailed off as her eyes met mine. Green eyes. The color of spring. The color of life. More vibrant than emeralds. My heart stopped.

Her.

She stood in disbelief, her body completely still, her eyes never once leaving mine. She paid no attention to Steve, the man she had originally meant to speak with. Instead, her eyes were locked on mine. As she took in every single one of my features, I watched as she tried to place me in her life. I watched as she struggled to find reason in our “sudden” connection. Her mouth gaped open as she helplessly searched for any words to fill the deafening silence. Her black hair, darker than the night itself, cascaded around her shoulders with two small braids trailed from her temples and met in the back of her head, keeping the hair from her face. She was just as beautiful as I remembered, just as delicate, just as fair, just as perfect. As full as my heart became, it began to break, and as if she could hear the sound of it, she spoke, drowning it out, “hi,” she whispered, the greeting clearly meant for me.

While she had been able to compose herself quickly enough, I was still overwhelmed by her mere presence. Never in my life did I think we’d meet like this. Never in my life did I think I’d even see her again. I had promised to stay away, after all. I refused to be indulged with any information about her other than whether or not she was happy and safe. I didn’t know, and I didn’t want to know. However, there was the part of me that still came to life in her presence. Sensing my inability to even form a coherent thought, Steve spoke up, “could you go let Tony know that she’s awake?” he asked, trying to urge her away. I should’ve prepared myself for her presence. Steve had been at the tower. Why hadn’t I anticipated this? Why hadn’t I demanded for him to leave? Why didn’t I wake up and run off the moment I saw that Steve was so close, meaning that she would also be just as close?

Her voice pulled me from my thoughts, “Jarvis, can you let Tony know that Eva’s awake?” she asked Tony’s AI, mentioning me by name. There was no way. She couldn’t know me. She couldn’t know who I was. I had taken every single precaution. I had taken every single memory. I took it all from her to keep her safe. I forced away all the memories she had of herself. She didn’t know who she was aside from who she became under Tony’s watchful eye.

“How...how do you know my name?” I stuttered out the first words I’d spoken to her in what felt like years but what had truly only been half of one.

“You’re one of the heroes of New York. Tony talks about you a lot,” she answered, stepping even further into the room. She closed the door behind her, making her way over to me. I tensed as her eyes stayed locked on mine. While I was relieved that she didn’t know my name from her memories of me, I was terrified that she would figure it out. I was terrified that she would remember. I tried to sink back further into the bed as Steve frantically searched for any other way to get her to leave. A part of me wanted him to remove her. A part of me wanted him to send her away or to take her back to wherever they were staying. However, there was the other part of me that was entranced by those eyes. I had never shed the love I had for her; it would’ve been an impossible feat. I had torn myself from her, but I never managed to tear her away from me. She smiled, and I thought I would melt into a puddle on the floor. I thought my heart would stop. The world felt like it came to a halt, and it listened to the way my heart skipped a beat, “I guess it’s only fair that you know who I am,” she smiled, her eyes glistening like the stars in the sky. She put them to shame. I didn’t need her to tell me. I already knew who she was. She was the very sun that rose on the horizon...the dawn of a new day.

“My name...is Aurora.”

She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever given. Loving her was my greatest weakness, and leaving her was my greatest failure. Aurora was my best kept secret, the love I forfeited, my dream come true, my princess, my awakening...my daughter.

***

I ran as fast as I could. I ran until the sound of my heartbeat threatened to drown out Loki’s words. His voice was harsh, but his words cut me like a knife. It would’ve been easier and far less cruel for him to just kill me. Instead, he would leave me to suffer, to take on the world alone. I was certain that Loki was speaking to his father to receive his blessing to ask me to marry him, to ask me to be his princess. However, when he returned to the garden, it was clear that the topic of conversation was very different. Instead of asking me to marry him, he plunged a proverbial knife into my heart, but even if he had done that, it would’ve been far less cruel. He reminded me of my place. I was nothing. I was no one. I had nothing. I had no one. I was just an orphan, a girl without a name, a peasant. I was undeserving of being known as a princess. I had tainted his name for long enough, and he had grown bored of me. They were words I never thought I’d hear from my love, the man who had taken a thousand years of my life for himself.

I didn’t stop until I reached the cottage. I didn’t stop to sing to the birds in the trees above me. I didn’t stop to listen to the song they would sing back. I didn’t stop for Hjalmar’s concerned voice from the stables next to the cottage. I didn’t stop until I burst through the front door of the cottage, throwing my arms around my father’s waist the moment I saw him. He didn’t even have to ask me what was on my mind. He didn’t have to understand the situation in order to offer me his comforting embrace. He simply wrapped his strong arms around me, holding me against him in order to offer me the stability I so desperately needed. As I buried my face into his chest, I whispered the words that were meant for Loki. They were the words I should’ve told him before he left to speak with his father, the words that had been sitting on my mind for weeks, the words that were attached to the awakening within me, the words I thought would’ve brought us both so much happiness, so much joy. Instead, they were muffled by my father’s strong chest, causing them to echo back to me, reminding me that this was a journey I would make alone, “I’m pregnant.”

[stokan]

The Top 20 Things of 2019

1. “Shallow” at The Oscars How can something be so anticipated, so hyped, so seemingly bigger than the freaking Oscars themselves, and yet still somehow exceed all expectations? We now know the answer: by completely subverting them. That’s why it makes perfect sense that the greatest moment of Lady Gaga’s career would be the simplest one. Her and Bradley Cooper simply standing up from their seats still gives me chills every time I watch it (and I’ve watched it A LOT). And the close up on their faces needs to be shown in sex ed classes.

If I could travel back in time, sure going back to kill baby Hitler would be great, but mostly I’d just want to go back to the exact second the curtain starts to raise on this performance, before I knew where it was headed next.

2. Olivia Colman winning Best Actress at The Oscars If you think it’s weird that there are two separate things from the same awards show on my list of the top things from the entire year, then, well, you’ve come to the wrong place.

This is the absolute platonic ideal of someone winning an Oscar. Our genuine shock at hearing their name, THEIR genuine shock at hearing their name, the genuine emotion from everyone involved, a speech that is heartfelt, human, funny, and charming in a way that only a true star could ever dream of being, all in equal measure. And it’s all part of a YouTube clip you can watch endlessly and find new things every time. (Glenn Close’s reaction when she loses is like an entire drama in and of itself.) Sure awards shows may be dumb, but then also, this is why they’re not.

3. Sharon Van Etten - “Seventeen” in advance of this year’s Oscars I just want to be on record that my favorite movie from 2019 about aging, feeling that life is passing you by, grappling with mortality, the passage of time, and the generation coming up behind you is Closing My Eyes And Listening To “Seventeen” By Sharon Van Etten. It has it all: the creeping melancholy and regret, the sense of doom that you try to dance away, the feeling that the past was maybe just a dream, the urge to yell into an increasingly uncaring void.

Part of the curse of aging is everyone becoming their own Casandra. Now you know, but no one will listen. And part of the joy of aging is realizing it doesn’t really matter if they do.

4. The writing on Succession

“Proof that, as long as the writing is there, TV doesn’t need to be anything more than people having conversations in rooms.” - theringer.com

I have a rule with these year end lists that I can’t feature something I’ve listed in a previous year. But it’s actually illegal to write about the best of 2019 without mentioning Succession. So I’m going to get around my self-imposed rule by this year specifically highlighting the writing on the show.

The amazing thing about Succession is how watchable it is not despite, but almost BECAUSE of the fact that not much actually happens. People talk a lot about things they are GOING to do, or MIGHT do, but there’s not a ton of actual DOING. And that’s actually great, because what we’re really here for is the talking. Every character talks with the biting wit of an Armando Iannucci character, the deep intelligence of an Aaron Sorkin character, and the realism of an actual human being. I find myself constantly rewinding just to make sure I took in the brilliance of each dialogue exchange. And literally every line Kieran Culkin is given to say would be the best line of the entire season on 90% of the shows on TV.

Everyone talks about how great the acting on Succession is, and rightly so, but actors are nothing without good words to say. And on Succession, to paraphrase a president of the United States that I’m sure ACN would love, they have the best words.

5. The chemistry of Kaitlyn Dever and Beanie Feldstein in Booksmart My favorite movie of 2017 was Lady Bird. My favorite movie of 2018 was Eighth Grade. So suffice it to say I was well prepared for how much I loved Booksmart. But what I was not prepared for at all was the incredible chemistry of two actors I had previously never even heard of before: Kaitlyn Dever and Beanie Feldstein. It feels impossible that the two of them aren’t real-life best friends. Life-long friendship is such a specific bond it feels impossible to fake, and yet somehow Kaitlyn and Beanie pulled the magic trick off. Experiencing the giddy contact high of their chemistry felt like being in the presence of a miracle. And anyone who says the romantic comedy is dead clearly didn’t see Booksmart, because maybe the best romantic comedy of the decade was the story of two people realizing the deepest, purest, most unique love of all can sometimes be the love you have for your best friend.

6. Fleabag Season 2 What on earth is there left to say about Fleabag that hasn’t already been said? And yet somehow even with all the discourse about this show it has still maintained its status as the rare cultural phenomenon with a 100% approval rating. To be as massive and as beloved as Fleabag and yet inspire zero backlash, not even a stray contrarian take from an online troll, feels impossible, and yet also, in the case of Fleabag, totally right. If (the now VERY problematic) Louie was the beginning of giving people money to make their idiosyncratic, personal, not-quite a drama not-quite a comedy TV shows, then Fleabag is the end. The apex of the art form. There’s nowhere to go from here but down. 2019 was the year television finally peaked. It was the year we all witnessed perfection. And it was the year that we fittingly all had a priest to guide us there.

7. Chelsea Peretti’s monologue at the WGA Awards Ironic that the year that proved that awards shows don’t need hosts is also the same year that gave maybe the best example ever of what a great awards show host can do. Chelsea goes so far inside baseball it gives new meaning to the phrase “corker”, and it’s all the better for it.

8. Vampire Weekend - Father of the Bride If you don’t think Father of the Bride is the best album of 2019 then congrats on not being a late-30s straight white man. But as a late-30s straight white man myself I’ve got two big things going for me:

1.) A life that has benefited from a history of privilege and near-total control over society stretching from the beginnings of civilization up until today 2.) An understanding that Father of the Bride is the best album of 2019

But what about Bon Iver and Wilco and The National and Sturgill Simpson and Big Thief, didn’t they all put out albums for late-30s straight white men this year you ask? To which I say: did any of those albums have a song on them called “Unbearably White”? No they did not! And that sort of ironic self-awareness is the kind of shit that has fueled a million straight white male sketch comedy scenes. It is the air we breathe. Also, have you heard “Harmony Hall” lately? Or “This Life”? Or “Stranger”? I mean, come on, leaving Brooklyn to make your “settled down in LA” album is the sort of late-30s straight white guy catnip James Murphy could only DREAM ABOUT. I may not have much these days, other than unlimited power and privilege, but at least I will always have Vampire Weekend, and they will always have me.

9. Lizzo Every year there is one thing that defines the year. One thing that 50 years in the future when someone mentions that year, it will be the first thing that pops into everyone’s head. And in America for 2019 that thing will be the impeachment of Donald Trump. But if there is a second thing, then it’s Lizzo. She was there when the year started, only got bigger as the year progressed and was arguably still getting more popular as the year ended. And she was everywhere. She was on massive stages and behind tiny desks. She was at the movies, she was on TV, she was coming out of every open car window. And she was definitely at every wedding you went to this year. Lizzo WAS 2019.

With the impeachment of Donald Trump I don’t know how far down the presidential line of succession we have to go before we get to Lizzo, but I know we would all be better off if we would hurry up and get there. Lizzo is the best of us.

10. This picture of Baby Yoda 

Ok I was wrong. Take everything I said about Lizzo and double it for This Picture Of Baby Yoda (you know the one, or if you don’t, click the link above). On the wikipedia entry for the year 2019 that definitely needs to be the picture. 

11. Kodi Lee on America’s Got Talent I realize you probably weren’t sitting around watching America’s Got Talent this summer. I certainly wouldn’t have been if I hadn’t happened to be working the live show tapings. But lemme tell you, if you didn’t see the show, you missed out on something truly magical this year. Something that makes you rethink what human beings are capable of. Something that goes so far beyond inspirational that I don’t think our language has a word to fully express it. Kodi Lee is a real life superhero, and provoking emotion is his superpower. Making it thru a full Kodi Lee performance without crying should be the new Turning Test. Forget America; Humans Have Talent indeed.

12. Taylor Swift - “Cruel Summer” Look I didn’t expect to ever find another “Teenage Dream”, but, well, here we are. I mean, a Taylor Swift single produced by Jack Antonoff and co-written by Annie Clark is pretty much genetically engineered to be one of my favorite things ever, but still: wow. Do the kids still use the term “banger”? Because if so, this is why the term was invented. I would have more to say about how great the rest of Lover is as well, but sorry, I gotta go now. I have to listen to “Cruel Summer” for the eight millionth time.

13. Michelle Williams in Fosse/Verdon If there was an award for best acting performance in any medium this would be the clear winner for 2019. In fact, can you win an EGOT for one single performance? What about a Nobel Prize? I can’t come up with an award or a title big enough to truly honor Michelle Williams’ work in Fosse/Verdon.

As a fellow actor very rarely a performance will come along that will make me think: ok we’re done here. Let’s all the rest of us pack it up and go home, because someone just won acting. This is one of those performances. So congrats to Dame Michelle Williams, you’re the new Pope.

14. American Factory My favorite line in all of Shakespeare is “there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so”. And nothing is evidence of that more than the piece of art I have thought about most this year: the documentary American Factory (available on Netflix right now!). So many of the things we in western societies believe are universal bedrock virtues and value are in fact simply products of the society in which we were raised. Individualism, personal expression, autotomy, the importance of leisure time, and so many other things, are not absolute human values, only relative ones. What is important to someone in America, can be ridiculous and incomprehensible to someone in China. And vice versa. And neither side is right or wrong, only thinking makes it so.

American Factory is documentary that doesn’t say WHAT IF EVERYTHING YOU THOUGHT YOU KNEW WAS WRONG, but instead shows something that is perhaps even more powerful: what if everything you know is simply just that, a thing you know.

15. White Claw Life is an endless parade of infinite options, possibilities, and choices. So I have no idea how you personally chose to spend your 2019. With one exception: I Know What You Did Last Summer. You drank an alcoholic seltzer water. Probably many of them, but at least one. At a park, at a beach, in a backyard, definitely at a party. If at some point this summer your paws weren’t wrapped around a White Claw (or a similar product) then you didn’t actually experience 2019. Because this is the year we all collectively got obsessed with combining America’s two hottest drink trends: flavored sparkling water and…hold on, lemme look up the name of this stuff…alcohol?

History may record summer 2019 as Hot Girl Summer, but those us who actually lived it know the truth: it was Hard Seltzer Summer

16. Marriage Story A movie that fundamentally misunderstands things I care about deeply - theater, Los Angeles, how the entertainment industry works - is my favorite movie of the year because of how deeply it gets right the thing I care about most: human beings. The way we talk, the way we behave, the way we love, the way we hurt, the way we create bonds that never fully go away. It’s been said a lot, but part of the beauty and magic of this movie is that it doesn’t take sides. Both people are right and both of them are wrong. And that’s how human relationships often work in real life, but rarely in art. There are no heroes, there are no villains; there’s only being alive.


(Also, Adam Driver, Imma let you finish, but Raul Esparza doing “Being Alive” is one of my favorite YouTube clips of ALL TIME. If you ever need to weep uncontrollably and you don’t have time to watch Marriage Story, then Raul Esparza’s “Being Alive” will do the trick)

17. Lil Nas X - “Old Town Road” “What kind of music do you like” used to be a very important question. Your sense of identity used to be defined by the type of music you listened to and what that choice said about you. But now music-as-cultural-signifier is as dead as the concept of owning music itself. Rap music is for elementary school kids. Country music is made by queer black Americans collaborating with Dutch teenagers. Billy Ray Cyrus and Korean pop stars appear on remixes of the same song. A song about an old road and an antiquated mode of travel becomes a massive hit thru the brand new music app TikTok. What kind of music do we like in 2019? All of the “kinds” of music at once, in one marvelously inescapable two minute burst of joy. Music is dead; long live music.

18. Chernobyl If you thought it was crazy that the year’s biggest song was a novelty country/hip-hop track by an unsigned artist rapping about trying to find parking for his horse, then wait until you find out what the summer’s biggest hit TV show was about! I mean, nothing screams “summer fun” like nuclear radiation and shooting dogs. But as always, no one ever truly knows what people will want until you give it to them. And clearly what we really wanted in our LOL Nothing Matters age was a captivating reminder that life on earth truly could end at any moment. Some things very much DO matter. And that something as dramatic, devastating, and consequential as Chernobyl could have happened in the fairly recent past and already have been largely forgotten about is incredible. But if you can take such a compelling story and tell it as well as the makers of Chernobyl did, then people will watch and learn and better understand an issue of vital importance, no matter how seemingly uncommercial it might be. So in a very 2019 sentence: thank you creator of the the Hangover franchise for your miniseries about a 1980 Russian power plant explosion. It was our collective summer obsession. (2019 was a weird year.)

19. Raphael Bob-Waksberg - Someone Who Will Love You In All You Damaged Glory

“I think about how loving someone is kind of like being president, in that it doesn’t change you, not really. But it brings out more of the you that you already are.”

Back in the day, Raphael Bob-Waksberg had a tumblr that was so good it both single-handedly inspired me get much better and writing my thoughts and putting them on the internet (thus what you are reading right now) and intimidated me out of doing it more often (why I now do this only once a year). In fact, I’m almost positive I had his tumblr listed as one of my top things of a year in the past, which is really the highest honor a tumblr account can receive. It was one of the single most impactful forces in the direction of my creative life. And now Raphael has taken the voice that created that tumblr and created my favorite TV show (BoJack Horseman) and wrote my favorite ever Craigslist post, and used it to create a book about love and loss and being human. And it feels like a wonderful treasure that was written just for me. It IS my worldview, expressed better than I ever possibly could. When I meet people now rather than doing the usual introductory small talk I am just going to hand them a copy of this book.

20. The New One - Mike Birbiglia Speaking of art that felt deeply personal to me…just hearing even a rough outline of the story Mike Birbiglia tells in The New One was enough to start me on a path of perhaps reconsidering one of my most deeply held beliefs. By talking about parenthood in a refreshingly honest and shockingly open way, he is able to possibly change lives. I know finally actually seeing the show in person (and it’s now available on Netflix) felt like a possible turning point in mine. Is it theater? Is it standup? Does it matter? Here’s what there are no questions about: it’s hilarious and deeply felt and perfectly constructed. It’s an absolute master class in story telling. And it’s my favorite thing I saw this year.

[arkus-rhapsode]

Eden’s Zero Chapter 1 Review

Hey guys, now before I dive into this already longer than usual review, I did wanna take this time to mention something. Its been no secret that I turned on Mashima and FT pretty hardly after the end of FT and some of you may be aware that I was moderately active in the fanbase with putting out my reviews and such. That said some may liken that shift in mentality to me not liking how the story went and a common critique of fans is that when what they’re fans of doesn’t gel with what they want they wanna destroy it. As if the fan has ownership of the source of the fanaticism.

I admit there are times that I’ve question decisions on Hiro Mashima’s end and has posted rewrites, but that’s not me doing it out of a sense of ownership. I’m doing it because I have a standard. Being a fan of something and letting your disappointment get to you and fester into salty, bitchy purest is one thing, but being a person who’s judging what a series puts out and actually caring about the quality of what’s in the popular media is important. FT got negative reviews in its latter half because it was that bad. By the end of the series it was legit that bad. Now I don’t say that is someone who was in the fanbase and hated Hiro’s decisions cause they weren’t mine, I hated them because it was bad writing. I’m a reader with standards, as are all of you, and in the digestion of media we make distinctions between good and bad. I make this claim with more concrete surety now that I’ve been around longer and have reviewed more series than just FT, I think it be harder to believe if I made this case when I was just starting and all I was talking about at the time was FT.

Some of you might remember when I first started out on MHA, my second chapter I ever reviewed I had found it boring and mundane and to date its my least popular MHA review and I still stand by that assertion. I hold everything to the same standard, and that includes FT. The reason I write this is that while throughout this review I will mention comparison’s to FT’s first chapter (and yes, even ways Eden’s Zero improved on it), but I will be holding it to the same standard. So this entire review won’t be me holding a grudge against Hiro, but it will be me holding it to the same standard as I do everything I read. That out of the way lets dive in.

We open on a hill side and met our MC named Shiki. Beside him is the mecha demon from the cover page and what they see is a... dragon. Yeah, Hiro I thought you wanted this to be wholely original?

On the hand I actually like this scene in the sense robo demon here is actually encourging actual adventure (something FT lacked) and its kinda amazing listening to this demon looking guy talking about friendship, yet on the other hand, damnit Hiro. Is this the only thing how to write about? Like damn man.

We cut to the future where we see our main female Lucy-I mean Rebecca! Y’know I could make a Rebecca from One Piece joke, but she’s kinda already a bit of a decisivee figure so I’m not gonna bother.

I mean its okay. Its just castle theme park. Also Rebecca we find out is apparently a youtuber. Look if DBS can have GodTube then I can put up with Blue Cate (Aoneko) website. Also yeah Happy here, no sugar coating its just Happy. Also Rebecca here purposely made her skirt short. Just because you point out the sexualization in canon doesn’t make it better, ya still drew it, Hiro.

We see that the theme park is full of robots and each one acts as an assist in sending the guest through some kind of medieval simulator. And if anyone has seen Westworld you know where this is heading. To be fair I love worldbuilding so please, explore!

So we find out Rebecca’s dream is to have one million suscribers and now here’s where I gotta give props to Hiro because he actual made a dream for a character that doesn’t seem like it can be achieved a chapter from now. Granted this seems a bit hard to actually quantify, but this dream could potenially evolve into something of why she wants the suscribers and could be like Nami making the map of the world that getting video of unknown locations may actually be worth something to the general population.

We see that Rebecca chooses to go on a monster hunting quest and they encounter...

...This thing. Also it seems Rebecca’s character quirk is she really likes cats I guess? But this doesn’t last long as someone crashes down on mecha cat.

Okay that was kinda funny. I mean if this was FT would’ve actually gotten the panty shot so maybe Hiro has learned his lesson! Also note that wrench!

Oh god damnit Hiro. So this tarzan guy after acting like an animal is knocked out by Rebecca. Y’know it took about 60 chapters before Natsu got all up in Lucy’s chest, guess we’re cutting straight to the chase here.

Okay is joke with here just going be about here short skirt? Damning it with faint praise here, but at least he still hven’t flashed us them yet. Also Tarzan here is the only human on the island.

We get some scenes of Shiki here wanting to be friends with Rebecca cause she’s a human and Rebecca isn’t interested and she returns to the Granbell town where Shiki is there and the robots know who he is.

Shiki’s expressions and creepy advances really gives off this tinge of sci-fi horror, unfortunate Hiro doesn’t really go that route and we’ll get to it. Also that wizard looking robot from the color page is also here.

They then have a party where the robots all celebrate them having a costumer for the first time in so long they have a party being nice to Rebecca and lavishing her with stuff outside is robot that looks like Robin Hood and he reports to his boss this machine king.

Oh look, Hades if he was a robot.

We see Shiki trying to bond with Rebecca and it leads to him expressing he wants to leave the kingdom and see another country, but we also learn he’s in charge of fixing this and the robots are acting up lately. We find out that the one who was talking to Shiki and is his “Grandfather” was called the Demon King a robot designed for playing that role in the park.

Umm Rebecca... That’s being a dick. So you don’t like it, so you decide to cut it, cause it bothers you. You could’ve framed it like, “If he fixes you up then maybe he needs better vision” or “He’s been so nice to me, let me do something for him.” And what makes this worse s that Shiki is asleep, so she doesn’t even consult his feelings. Like seriously, that’s not being a good friend . But for contrivances sake I’m sure Shiki will wake up and love it, won’t he?

Huh? I was wrong instead we got shitty 80s comedy. I don’t know if that’s better or worse.

Y’know I said I’d give Hiro atleast two free fanservice moments for his first 3 chapters. He’s now used all of them up in a single chapter. Also Rebecca is tied to a stake while robots with torches surround her along with the machine king.

Shiki is also there and here’s something that did remind me of rave, the tightness of the first chapter. Everything seems to flow like one continuous story and doesn’t seem to do some dumb interlude like FTs first chapter did with that awkward moment where Lucy leaves Natsu and she’s just randomly in the park reading.

The King wants to use her ship to leave this world and we get som kind of motivation out of him.

Oh wow, for a first chapter villain that’s actually a really deep thing to unload. That as amusment park hosts they must’ve just been seen as pleasure tools and with no one around these robots who seem to be senstinent must’ve felt betrayed and...

Oooooor you cut out all moral ambiguity by just saying they have a virus. Sure. Trust me, this is where it gets stupid really stupid. And that’s the inconsistency.

So these robots I guess are like the ones from the Animatrix where they just kinda develop sentience out of nowhere. But unlike Animatrix it doesn’t seem to imply when they developed this sentience and that they began to think they were being abused.

Tired of Friendship already, it ain’t leaving.

So why do you hate humans? They abandoned you I guess, but there’s not other robot saying “hey our times were fun together” no everyone is like they left us to rot  so we hate them. Not like Humans did anything legitimate bad. We actually see that at the end of the chapter that there is some sort of central battery on the park that all robots are hooked up to. You could make their reason for hating humans that. That even though they left these sentiment robots still had a little kingdom to themselves, but realized that its all just going to end one day and humans didn’t even bother to unplug them. They’re existence is literally knowing when they’ll die, imagine that as why they harbor negative emotions and maybe Shiki actually fixing things might’ve actually been prolonging their lives so maybe that be why they kept him around. This whole sentience things just feels like Hiro wanted to do a trope of crazy robots and ended using multiple to fit the whatever story purpose at the moment.

You do run the planet, dumbasses. This entire plane, apparently for hundreds of years, has been solely controlled by you. Maye this should be rephrased as, going to the place that built you to get revenge or as I spoiled with the battery we’ll take the ship to get more power for our kingdom?

Shiki doesn’t do anything and kinda lets the robots just wail on him as he found out all things in his life were a lie. Then Rebecca gives a friendship speech. A stupid stupid friendship speech.

You’re right, Rebecca! Too bad we didn’t see that. I’m serious we barely see memories of Shiki with any robot outside of the demon king and Michael so there’s no weight to this conflict. We only get the vague sense they raised hm, but there’s no moments of Shiki really laughingg and enjoying their company outside of the party with Rebecca which rather is made more for getting Shiki to like Rebecca for this moment.

Shiki remembers what his Grandpa the Demon King said and just blows them all away.

We see Shiki’s hand and apparently he has these marks indicating he has Ether gear. The power system of this series.

You’re sentiment! You have out grown your programming! You can choose to have a concept of friendship.

So they fight with shitty action scenes (If I can give Horikoshi a hard time for how he draws his fight choreography, then I sure as hell will give Hiro the once over.) Happy manages to save Rebecca and like Happy from early FT, he basically spots off exposition on powers.

So is it like a literal gear? Because Happy afterward destincties as the Gear of Gravity, so is it like a devil fruit? Is ether in all humans, but this specific gear brings it out in a certain way? If its internal then I guess its like the magic circuits from Fate? And then every of has their own unique variation like Nen? Like cause Happy gives it the distinction of Gravity it doesn’t seem like Shiki gives a reason why he has this power. I’m hoping \its like devil fruits, literal gears you implant and then it brings out your ether in a certain way.

Shiki punches out the machine king and cause a massive collapse.

Credit where credit is due, Hiro actually did build up the reveal of this power throughout the chapter and its actually really well done. Kinda reminds of something Oda would do with subtly building up a devil fruit power without revealing it. Like Crocodile drying out a flower but it isn’t stated his power is specifically sand.

They then flee when the other robots rally and Shiki takes Rebecca back to her ship.

This scene would actually be really nice if we actually saw more young shiki actually having fun with the machines and not a being a creeper with them.

Shiki and Rebecca take off and we see the universe.

Not gonna lie, that’s a really pretty shot. Like damn, I could get behind this.

It seems like worlds in this universe are basically like kingdom hearts worlds. They’re not real “worlds” so much as they are islands in space.

Sure, keep the mystery alive why don’t you, no that be too much.

Well great place to end the chapter. Little dry of a first story, but I definetly see that has room for improvment and there is something-Wait this isn’t the last page? But what else is there to talk about. There’s nothing left-

Oh for fuck sake. That’s right they were trying to send SHiki away. Because apparently these robots thought there was no way to restore battery life even if stayed.

Here’s a tip, ifyou really care, and had such a close bond, maybe tell him to leave? Tell SHiki the truth that you guys are tied to a battery and instead of Shiki vowing to leave for the stars so he can make 100 friends (I’m not kiding that’s his actual goal here). Then this would be an interesting goal.

But no, you have to act like human hating jackasses and shatter the boy’s entire reality, just so you he would go out and “change the universe”

This would be a really nice scene with a very nice amount of character development starting point, if we actually saw their past. All we know is they raised Shiki, but its never really seemed like they’re loving or caring or Shiki openly gets upset if one of them had a problem. Again the biggest flaw with this chapter is that it sacrifices seeing one potentially interesting relationship (Shiki and the robots) for another one (Rebecca).

So we end on this page which reveals that Shiki’s goal is to have a hundred friends. Not going to say something snarky I just realized this is the same motivation as Yuki from future diary. Like before the crazy yandere shit.

Post Chapter follow up:

Lets be positive and look at the good stuff in this chapter. The first thing great about this chapter is it improved upon two of the biggest failings in the first chapter FT. Goals established and world building. Not only does this set up force Hiro Mashima to actually world build (literally) but each person in the first chapter has a goal that doesn’t seem like it can be accomplished quickly. It means we can have investment in the story.

Another thing I’ll give is Shiki is an okay MC. He has more personality than Natsu, but not as much as Haru and this first chapter is about him. Its easy to understand that Lucy is often considered the MC of FT because it literally focuses on her for the story than Natsu. But this chapter had a healthy balance.

Also the power system at least seems to have some definition. Unlike how anyone could have magic yet normal people just don’t choose to use it like in FT. Ether Gear seems to be a powersource that only a select few can use. Now we need to see first if there are ways of combating it like technology or such so a non ether gear person can still fight.

It also has its own unique aesthetic. Ft is a pretty generic fantasy world. It doesn’t have the bleakness of bereserk or the Japanese aesthetic of naruto. You could say Black CLover, Fairy Tail, and Seven Deadly sins all had their first chapter happen in the same world and I’d have trouble arguing it.

Now on to the crappy stuff. This series suffers from the usual Mashima foibles such as the sexual harassment, the stupidly way it tries to justify and give all conflict happy ending, not actually bothering to have a situation drawn out ad built up too, etc. I mean for the first conflict of the chapter its a heavy one, these guys raised SHiki yet their own mentality is against humans so Shiki has to choose, but instead of actually answering that question, it turns out there was no real conflict and the machines were just faking.

As for my like for Shiki, I flat hate Rebecca. She is so pointless and useless. Look I will defend Lucy and she actually can d things. First chapter she saved Natsu by using aquarius. But Rebecca? She’s just all of the bad traits of post timeskip Lucy. She is used for pointless fanservice, does nothing contribute, and becomes a mouth piece for friendship.

Speaking of friendship as a concept and goal here, Hiro just rewrite what you mean. Have deeper meaning than friends for once. There is ways you could take the motivation “I want to make 100 friends” in a compelling way. Prehaps Shiki is going out to make his own world where he can make a happy place for people where they can laugh and cry in harmony. Like story telling wise its pretty weak.

Like me personally, I would’ve taken the first chapter like this, the robots are sentinet and they are nice to Shiki and Rebecca and they have genuine fun together. They gradually reveal that they are shutting down maybe one starts acting wonky and tries to hide it and maybe the machine king is the real bad guy. He has sentinece and hates humans and he wants to eliminate SHiki and Rebecca and that’s because they’re shutting down. The other robots say they don’t care they were abandoned, they were mad at first but Shiki showed them that why they loved catering to humans. King and Shiki fight and they all reveal they’re shutting down and Shiki cries he doesn’t want them to go. The robots say its inevitable and they don’t hpw to recharge the battery and Shiki vows to leave the planet and search for a power source to bring them all back. Then that’s shiki’s goal and it even can cause questions like “Is it worth all this for machines?” or “who designed them maybe we can figure out the right substance to power them up?”

or if Hiro wanted to go a more darker route. Have the machines have no sentience and literally be dolls for the King who turns out to be a human who stayed here on Granbell and made his own little kingdom. Make it a bit meta on how Shiki’s only friends were just hollow imitations of people who were only friends because that’s what their programming dictated and they can all be switched off. It be meta as critiquing Ft and how all the guild characters basically had no conflicts, all got along, and were just friends with no depth or reason.

This all highlights the issue with Hiro Mashima and that’s he is not a good a writer. Hiro is an incredibly talented person and can come up with incredibly unique ideas and looks, which is why his cover pages are the best things he puts out because its him free forming. But writing. He has a limited scope on that and stuff like sci-fi and fantasy can be very morally grey things. But Hiro doesn’t seem to understand tragedy in the sense that its tragic because a person fails or dies unsatisfied. But he only seems to know how to write painfully obvious concepts like “save the world” or “friendship” instead doing a concept like “what it is to be a hero” like MHA does which can have a variety of answers to it.

So what’s the final verdict? Well I actually am going to do something different than usual. I’m going to say what I though the quality was compared to FT and then to what I’d consider this work compared to anything else.

In comparison to FT, Eden’s Zero gets a Final verdict of 8/10

Improves on a lot of FT’s first chapter flaws

Created a more unique environment for a story

And actually has a lot tighter narrative

But in comparison to everything else...

Final Verdict: 5/10

Even if it wasn’t Hiro, its a pretty generic start (some names aren’t even all that inspired like Machine King, Demon King)

Potential to grow into something better is there

Nothing is outright offensive

Cool concept

[thecreativeangel]

Hijacked Suit (Peter Parker x Reader)

Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

*Please don’t plagiarize my work, thank you :3*

Summary: Everything was fine until Peter felt the need to be noble. 

Warnings: Swearing. Otherwise just bad vine references. This is an entry for @spectacular-spiderboy and @yourtomwritings, author’s note to them is at the bottom. Prompt: “I don’t want to call you stupid, but...”

Word Count: 1,442

That day had been a nice day. A calm day. Your mind was in a serene, floaty place and your shoulders bore no weight of anxiety. Classes had been stress-free, your projects were all finished and Mr. Bittner agreed to give no more tests for the remaining two weeks of class. And hell- if school was easy, life was easy. That's just a basic principle of high school. It was a good Friday to finish off a good week…

Until Peter “I Can't Lie For Shit” Parker decided to open his mouth.

Your first indication of danger? Shuri. The only warning you got was her distant shrieks of laughter, getting louder and louder as she got closer. You stopped in the middle of the Avengers Facility hallway, ears perked, confused. Shuri turned the corner and almost toppled you over in her hurry, a string of quick apologies leaving her.

“Fucking run!” she yelled over her shoulder, sprinting towards the main exit. You blinked twice and stared after her, feet stuck to the ground.

A hand latched onto your arm and you lurched forward with the force of the pull. Well I guess we're fucking running now, you thought angrily. Peter ran like he was about to be jinxed by the Dark Lord, panting and tugging you along with him.

“I'm sorry!” he yelped, taking a sharp detour from the main lobby into the laboratory wing. Agents and construction workers alike gawked at the three teenagers running for their lives. Your arm felt ready to pop out of its socket as you struggled to keep up with him, but Peter was still rambling breathlessly. “-and it wasn't my fault! I mean- kinda? I should've kept my mouth shut, I know! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!”

“What the hell are you talking about?” you yelled over the screams of “You little assholes!” and “Shuri come back here!”. Stress crept into your system, a nasty contrast to the previous state of calm. Peter’s hand gripped your arm harder. “R-remember when you pranked T-Tony and T’challa a-and Rhodey and-”

Your felt your soul bleed out of your body. “Oh no.”

Peter thrust open a random door and threw you inside, pushing you past rows of DNA samples, beakers of steaming chemicals and a caged mouse. You started to duck under a table when he pulled you up and pushed you into a particularly large lab coat closet. Darkness enveloped both of you, but at least you were safe from whatever Peter was to terrified of. You rounded on him. Well, probably him. It was almost pitch black and you could only sense him by his heavy breathing.

“Peter. Benjamin. Parker,” you seethed quietly, feeling him wince at the use of his full name. “Did you rat me out?”

“N-no?”

A low growl rumbled in your throat.

“Maybe?”

You batted away lab coat that kept swinging into your face. “Peter I swear to God-”

Peter clamped his hand on your mouth and turned to look for Rhodey and T’challa through a crack in the closet doors. He spoke in a rapid, hushed voice. “Yes! I accidentally told Tony, okay? Now please, please be quiet.”

You pried his hand from your mouth. “You jerk! Tony had no idea about that! What did he do to get the information- torture you?”

With what little shred of light the crack between doors provided, you saw Peter look down sheepishly, his cheeks darkening. You huffed as the annoying lab coat swung again on its hanger and hit you in the eye with a button.

“Tony didn't actually ask,” you concluded, tone dripping malice. “Did he?”

“W-well he kind of did,” Peter's voice cracked a bit too much. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Peter, I don’t want to call you stupid, but…” you poked him in the chest. “-wait, yes I do! That was so stupid of you! What happened that you couldn’t keep your mouth shut?”

“Alright, alright- stop poking me! Just listen! We were talking about Queens and school and stuff, right?” Peter explained, rubbing the spot where you poked him. “And Tony asked ‘do kids still play pranks?’ and I said no. And then he said: ‘funny, because I think you're lying.’”

“You're a terrible liar, by the way,” you added spitefully, crossing your arms.

Peter sputtered indignantly, running both hands through his messed up hair before resting them on the back of his neck. “Well if someone programs a prototype suit to throw random shit and yell ‘this bitch empty’, I think Tony would figure it out! Of course he thought it was you and Shuri!”

“It's ‘this bitch empty’, and then ‘yeet’,” you corrected him snidely.

Peter blanked. “What?”

You licked your dry lips. “We programmed it to scream ‘this bitch empty- yeet’. It’s a joke.”

“Who cares?” Peter cried softly, still painfully aware that you were hiding.

“Okay, okay-” you said calmly, trying your best to appease him. “If Tony didn't want us to do that, would he have added a new A.I. to the suit? No, he'd have stuck with FRIDAY.”

Peter blinked at you, put his head in his hands and let out a long groan. You grinned in the dark, knowing full well your logic was bullshit. But a frustrated Peter was a cute Peter. “I- How- You're going to give me a heart attack, y’know? Oh fuck.”

“Such dirty cursing for such an innocent snitch,” you said passively, craning your neck to see through the crack. No one had entered the lab yet.

“I'm not innocent!” Peter all but squeaked, making you laugh under your breath. “Y-you're just dirty minded and dirty mouthed-”

“Ooh, Itsy Bitsy Spidey’s afraid to talk dirty?” It was slipped out before you had the sensibility to bite your tongue. You slapped your hand over your own mouth as soon as the words left. Peter’s eyes widened comically as your ears and neck grew hot. All of a sudden, you were the one who was stuttering.

“I didn't- I uh, that…” you ran out of excuses. “That came out wrong.”

Peter was deep in thought for a moment and you could see the mental gears turning just by looking him in the eyes (they were dark like fireplace ashes, only because everything was dark because y’know...dark closet). He finally moved, leaned closer until his mouth was right next to your ear- but he wasn't touching you at all. And yet you shivered, grasping the hem of your own t-shirt for support as his warm, panting breath heated your skin.

“I can handle dirty talk,” he whispered, the tip of his nose brushing your neck. “Can you?”

The way your throat hitched was pathetic, to you at least. Maybe the momentary distraction was good; the hand that you'd places lightly against the (not locked) closet door searched for a stable surface that wasn't there. You yelped as the door opened, making you fall out of the tiny damned closet and land on your ass. Peter still stood in the closet, still leaning slightly, now with a terribly smug grin.

Shuri burst into the lab and ran to your side, pulling you up. “There you are! My brother has not seen me yet but he was putting on his suit I think, so we should really go-”

She spoke fast, almost too fast for your dazed mind couldn't comprehend the words. You glanced back at Peter, who looked like the purest image of filth. His curls were disheveled, cheeks pink, jacket and shirt wrinkled, breathlessly gasping for air; the perfect image of “suddenly interrupted”. Shuri, bless her, was too busy shoving you out the lab’s back door to notice.

“Come on, come on!” she urged, pulling you out until the crisp October air pleasantly cooled your overheating body. “We're out of options, if you want to know. Tony is guarding  our lab and rooms.”

You squished your cheeks in both hands, wishing for them to stop burning and managed to speak without sounding winded. “The invisibility cloak I made?”

Shuri giggled at your obsessive love of Harry Potter. “Couldn't get it. And T’challa took my sneakers! He's being overdramatic- it was funny!”

Your turn to laugh at her pout. You crouched behind a decorative bush and motioned for her to follow. Sitting on dirt and mulch was less than fitting, especially with an aching tailbone. Not the best place for hiding, but it would do.

“Peter was ve-ery red when you came out,” she said slyly. You shot her a halfhearted glare. “Care to explain?”

“We ran from Rhodey,” you said flatly.

Shuri only snickered. “Sure.”

Author’s Note: Sorry to the lovely spectacular-spiderboy for taking so long. Hope this follows all the rules...Love ya.