#my situations keep disrupting my flow in ideas. god help me

[cosmicdenro]

wip for you <3

[miss-nov]

Over-Emotional: Danny Phantom Oneshot.

Original idea by @amabsis on their post right here!!

[Originally written on a reblog of the prompt but it went all screwy and left an incomplete version so I made it it's own post and I've made a few grammar and spelling edits. Sorry for any confusion!!]

(This is the first thing I've ever written for the DP Phandom so I apologize if it's a little OOC)

⚠️(TW: DESCRIPTIONS OF A PANIC ATTACK AND GORE!!!!!)⚠️

  Danny drifted through the skies of Amity Park, following the streets which were slick with recent rain. The stars twinkled merrily above and the beams from the street lights seemed to buzz through the comforting, crisp air. Not a sound disrupted the mellow atmosphere and ghosts had appeared to leave tonight alone and retired to their lairs. A soothing night such as this would have been Danny's favorite; it would have been a much needed break from his overly stressful life.

  Yet Danny couldn't shake off the creeping apprehension even as he twisted in and out of alleyways back into the lit roads.

  His parents had been working tirelessly  on a project that they wouldn't tell him and Jazz about. Jack, their father, would always jump at the chance to describe what he was doing and couldn't keep his antics quiet for long. Maddie's, their mother, eyes would have brightened as she recounted the innovate idea she had conjured and the necessary calculations she could toy around with. These facts coupled with Jazz and Danny casually inquiring about their latest project would make them incredibly ecstatic.

  But whenever the two had asked about it, put off by the unusual quiet of the parents, had only been given an amused smile and an occasional wink.

  Tonight, before Danny's patrol and during dinner, Jazz had managed to weasel some information out of them. Though, it left more questions than answers.

  "So, you guys have been in the lab a lot recently," Jazz said conversationally. "Working on some new ghost stuff? It seems important if you're spending most of the day down there."

  Maddie had given her a deliberate look like someone who'd finally decided to take a second cookie.

  "It's our greatest invention yet," she said lowly and excitedly. "I think your dad and I have found the solution to our little ghost problem."

  The siblings gulped and tried to suppress their shudders.

  "It's not going to hurt them is it? Phantom and the other ghosts." Jazz's voice was even and didn't show a hint of a tone shift.

  "Surprisingly, no. No harm will be dealt to them. It's not like they can feel anyway. That's exactly the problem," Jack chimed excitedly before going back to his ectoplasm contaminated lasagna.

  "Besides, we wouldn't want to hurt the object of our daughter's affection.  We all know about your crush on Phantom," Maddie teased but then added with a small frown. "Though it's not healthy to have a crush on ghosts at all."

 Jazz gave an aggressive gagging noise and Danny was torn between hysterical laughter and a gag of his own. Dinner resumed as normal —well, as normal as you could get being a Fenton— and Danny took note of the fact his parents had refused to say anymore.

  Danny was busy going over and dissecting the conversation and lax in his attention to his surroundings by the inactivity that he didn't notice the two shadow-cloaked figures tailing him. The taller one with a broader build was holding an intimidating gun, that looked like it was straight out of an eighties sci-fi movie, on his back.

  Maybe I should head back, Danny thought to himself. I have so much homework due and a test tomorrow. A pop quiz in calculus and a lab in science. I have to meet Nathan at my study hall period and at lunch. Liz needs my help…

  On and on the list went as Danny subtlety started flying home. Just thinking of things that needed done was making him more anxious and tired.

  "Phantom, we'll have you now," Jack cried, his voice echoing in the hollow streets.

  Danny turned around, slightly aggravated when he was struck by a violet beam and plummeted, crashing to the sidewalk.

  "Jack! I told you to wait," Maddie chastised as they walked over to Danny who had barely sat up.

  His head swam and Maddie and Jack looked like the reflections of a carnival fun house mirror. Though his vision corrected itself quickly.

  "I think you might have given him a concussion. But that doesn't make sense, ghosts don't have brains," Maddie said, slightly confused. She reached out to gingerly place her fingertips on Danny's temple and he flinched.

  "Don't touch me!!" Danny had yelled louder then he meant to and his voice came out with an extra echo; like he had been about to use his ghostly wail. The three stilled before Danny began crawling backwards, keeping his eyes on Jack and Maddie at all times.

  "I don't wanna hurt you," Danny whimpered and tears sprang to eyes like a line of men ready to battle. Why the hell was he crying!? He didn't cry easy, at least not of late, and he'd been in these situations and worse without crying so why was he breaking down now??

  Maddie looked at him with wide eyes and her hand, which had still been suspended in shock, dropped to her belt and Danny panicked.

  "Don't hurt me!" Danny tried to pick himself up to fly, to get the hell out of dodge but when he went to stand his vision and black an —god why were his veins burning with adrenaline???

  Danny's chest was caving, that was the only explanation as his ribs seized and threatened to crush his lungs. His heart had left its place and sprinted from the back of his throat down to right beneath his collarbone before starting all over again. Has his hands always been this sweaty??? Tremors wracked through his limbs —he couldn't deal with this now!! He needed to finish his Hamlet essay, and review his history notes, and hadn't Liz asked him to buy popsicle sticks for their art project??? That's what he had forgotten!! He can't think of this now!! Maddie and Jack could easily catch him now —but oh, God was he screwed when —if— when he went to school the next day.

  "Phantom, you're having a panic attack," Maddie said calmly.

  "No, shit there, Sherlock." Danny bit his bottom lip to prevent another scathing comment from escaping. Usually he had better control of his mouth believe it or not. He put his head between his knees, closing his eyes and trying to focus on, well, nothing. He felt tears slip from his eyes and barely stopped himself from screaming.

  "You know what a panic attack is?" Jack titled his head as he scanned over his shaking form.

  "Jack did you put the settings up too high while we were following him?"

  "Of course not! I was very careful not to bounce anything out of place. You've Done the math, four times, it should be perfectly calibrated." Jack twisted the purple and silver metallic gun in his hands, giving it a thorough look over.

  "What the fuck are you two talking about!!" The scientists' head whipped back to see Danny's eyes glowing a tad brighter than before and his mouth transfixed into a snarl. Maddie slid a careful hand to her holster.

  "Our newest invention. Ghosts, well most of them, are just whispers of feelings that people once had. They can't actually feel and so they do bad things or... or they mimic human behaviors really well to make it seem like they do, like they're human." Maddie's voice trailed off at the end as if seeing if he would explode.

  Danny felt that normally he would have but he started to hyperventilate. How was he going to reverse it??? Was there even a way to do so or did they not include a reverse button by mistake (on purpose?) like they had mistakenly put the 'on' button inside the portal??

  "We're going to take you to the lab. Check your... concussion and to stabilize your mood. Run a few tests..."

Ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodoh—

   They would strap him down and cut and lay his chest open like a butterfly steak and their hungry eyes would roam over him and their hands would devour him by pulling at his nerve endings and removing his organs and Danny would scream until his voice was hoarse and then some like a helpless lamb. Would he bleed blood or ectoplasm when they drained him? Would they take turns as he bleed out?? Or would they flow out together like some sort of demented, holiday dinner?? Or—

  "Phantom! You need to calm down." Maddie was at his side (when had she gotten there?) and was squeezing his hand. Danny briefly noted her eyes were filled with worry as her goggles hung at her neck. "Just breathe with me okay, please."

  "Breathe with her, buddy" Jack, who sat on the other side of Danny, whispered as he gently rubbed circles on the boy's lower back. "It's gonna be okay. We aren't going to hurt you."

  Danny wanted to say a smart aleck remark about them not having the same sentiment five minutes ago but instead focused on his breathing. He faced his head skyward and tried to count the stars. Nothing but him and the stars, no home— just the stars.

  Danny was reminded of the time he went stargazing with the rest of his family. A rare occasion as Maddie and Jack seemed to always be working. They had smiled so big at him as he pointed out constellations, awestruck. Jazz had nodded along as she listened attentively with a smile of her own. The night hadn't been more clear in months and more stars then usually were out. The picnic blanket they laid on was soft and him and Jazz had rested in between their parents and God they had been so happy then—

  Danny let out an involuntary sob. The melancholy seemed to come from the depths of his chest but at least it seemed to push out the panic.

  "Phantom," Maddie asked as she huddled closer to him. Phantom, not Danny. It hadn't really bothered him before; they didn't know it was him so why would they call him by his name?

  But it still made him cry harder. He wanted to tell them. He wanted to so, so bad.

  Jazz had urged him to tell them. But Danny had always been afraid. Scared that they wouldn't want him anymore.

  Now the sadness had overwhelmed the fear and the panic. He felt so isolated even when his parents were next to him, right there, trying to coax him into being calm. He had to tell them. He had to do it now because he wouldn't be this impulsive again.

  He felt the white rings gloss over him and heard Jack yell out "Phantom". When it was over he heard them gasp.

  "D-Danny," Maddie choked out.

   "I'm so sorry," Danny said through his tears. He chanted it over and over again as his parents reassured him that he had nothing to be sorry for and that they should apologize.

  The three sat there for quite some time, huddled close and crying together.

  Soon they would head home and take care of Danny's quickly healing concussion and reverse the effects of the gun. They would ask questions tomorrow after school but, for now, they tucked him into bed, something they hadn't done since he was eleven, and gave him their good night kisses on his temple before creeping to their room unaware of Jazz watching them from her bedroom door. She would text Sam and Tucker an explanation and ask them to give Danny the answers to the homework in the morning. She slipped into bed and fell asleep.

  The streets were barely slick with rain anymore. The stars twinkled merrily and the street lights buzzed. The crisp, cool air was calm and mellow. The night soothing and the Fentons were a family once again.

[lilac-den]

Hello dear author! How would the ROs react if they came home from a mission to find the MC asleep in their bed snuggling one of their shirts? Thank you!

Cracks knuckles. . . I’mma assume relationship-stage. . .

Zeus: The mission had been tough, as with many other mission. Zeus is a soldier, a dedicated fighter. No iota of complaints have ever crossed their mind.

But this time? It’s the first they ever feel irritated to have this mission drag so long.

Zeus is a clean-cut method for the company to utilize - a top weapon agent in their arsenal. But even they can’t stomach the haughty attitudes of those who belittle the responsibilities at work. That, and the fact they’re also the reason they have drag the mission far longer than it should.

Even Ares was scowling over the governmental agents slacking their asses off. If it wasn’t for Zeus and co, this mission would have gone for a week instead of five days straight. Zeus has already made a promise to spend the whole weekend, and they plan to keep that promise.

The keys rattle and click against the lock, allowing Zeus to step into their apartment with an exhausted sigh. God, they smell. It won’t do good to visit their beloved in such a state. Stripping their suit jacket off, they made their way into their room...

Only to blink upon the sight before them.

There was [Name], all curled up on their bed with their shirt in their grasp. What was once a neatly clean bed, with settled and smoothed out sheets, is now all wrinkled about and the sole chaos in a room of the organized structure.

A light tinge warms their torso.

It’s so strange - that seeing something that disrupts their usually fixed atmosphere be so fulfilling. It’s as if the exhaustion of the mission is lifted, all for the thought of peace with their lover’s sleeping, quiet state.

Zeus allows themselves to step closer, sitting onto the edge of the bed and reach out to brush their forehead. Brows knit, most likely from the feel of their gloves, before beautiful orbs blink open.

“Good morning, [Name],” Zeus says, monotonous and stone-faced. An issue with those who try to approach them, Zeus doesn’t excrete ‘emotional reveal’.

But [Name] flashes that smile - sleepy but joyful. Was it from having a pleasant dream? Or perhaps [Name] believe their dream is of this moment.

“Welcome home...”

Regardless, Zeus knows the yearning they felt for [Name] is mutual.

Hermes: “Fucking assholes, thinking they’re so brilliant...”

The unsettling curses flow out of Hermes as natural as a raging river, their fingers frustratingly flipping through their set of keys as they frown, only to click their tongue and flip once more in reverse.

The mission has taken a massive toll on Hermes - sure, it’s a success but it would have been three days earlier if those scientists from the governmental branch have more brain cells. They completely disregarded Hermes’s suggestion and simply went ahead with their own ideas, singling them out.

Clearly, that didn’t turn out well due to how that simply put them through a grueling demotion and put Hermes in charge of the issue. While there isn’t any other problem to be found, Hermes has grown irate at the time that’s been wasted to the point each of the scientists couldn’t even dare to make a peep of gossip.

The only pro coming out of this is the fact Hermes had earned some vacation days - specifically this weekend.

The idea of spending the weekend with [Name] provides some small mood boost; it had been the only thing that kept Hermes going with those so-called top-notch thinkers.

But when Hermes steps into their apartment and enters the bedroom, they eye the body that lies on their bed.

Pajamas adorn the frame of their beloved, with a small note of bedhead and a black, very familiar T-shirt wrinkling in their grasp as they smile obliviously in their sleep.

[Name] fits so perfectly on their bed, Hermes almost forego taking a short shower just to climb in. Curse outdoor bacteria.

Thankfully, [Name] didn’t wake up while Hermes was showering - considering how it’s massively early and Hermes has spent last night driving back home, being the night owl they are, they could sleep like the dead.

A common thing their beloved has mentioned during their brunches.

Dressed in their sleepwear, Hermes climbs into the sheets, careful not to move the shirt away from [Name], and wraps their arms around [Name] to let themselves settle into the comfort of their own bed.

“Hng...” Hermes’s ears perk at the sound that erupts after merely five minutes before they feel the body in their arm twitch, “Oh...Hermes, when did you come back?”

A sigh leaves them and they find themselves sinking into the softness, a heavy load of exhaustion upon them. Who knew the sound of their voice can make them crumble to instant relaxation? “Just now.”

A gentle touch on the head. “Tough mission?”

“Mm.” Hermes gives a noise of confirmation, relying on the stroking sensation through their hair for its warm properties. The body shifts, which leads to Hermes’s brows knitting together.

“Haha...!” A soft laugh escapes their beloved, a sound that leaves them fuzzy with delight. “Did you miss me too?”

“You took my favorite shirt.”

[Name]’s voice has a pause before concern fills it. “Am I not allowed to?”

The remembrance of [Name] cuddling with their shirt resorts to Hermes tightening their embrace. “Consider this punishment.”

A short laugh leaves [Name] again. “Seems more like a reward.”

Hermes gives out a sort of grumble and leans in without another thought, burying their head into the crook of [Name]’s neck. [Name] doesn’t speak another word, but the fingers that pet along their hair turn into a hand stroking from scalp to the back. A satisfied noise escapes with a minuscule smile.

Clearly, the one getting a reward here is Hermes.

Dionysus: “God, what a week.”

It’s one thing to go undercover as a hotel staff - it’s another to carry that role and attempt fixing most of the problems in said hotel. First had been a Frenchman and Englishman arguing over some preference of which country is better (Ironically - the Frenchman believes England is better while the Englishman believes France is better). Then, there was a lack of staff, which means more tasks to do than what most usually do.

It doesn’t help that Dionysus was in that situation because of some corrupt billionaire who couldn’t stop keeping it in his pants. Including the rare virus, he had spread to his ‘friends’.

It was just an absolute mess. Dionysus wasn’t sure how they’ll stomach seeing another messy bed.

After unlocking the door to their apartment and entering it, they lock the door behind them and head for the bathroom in their bedroom; Dionysus could go for a relaxing bubble bath. But when they step into their bedroom, they freeze with wide, shock eyes.

Lying on their bed, with a vibrant orange PJ shirt in the grasp of familiar hands, is the librarian in all their sleepy glory. Dionysus has always left their curtains open, so the sunrise’s rays are already shining into the room without making contact with the librarian’s blessed face.

Their heart melt. They smile widely and step closer to the bed. Bending down, they plant a kiss onto their beloved’s forehead, something which leads to forcing a groan out of their sleeping beauty.

Eyes blink towards Dionysus, blearily taking them in as the first thing they see - something Dionysus plans to keep doing.

A dazzling smile courses through their lips, flashing beautiful teeth. “Morning, sunshine.”

“Mnngh...” [Name] groans out, grabbing the blanket and curl out, though not turning away from Dionysus and simply rub their cheek into the shirt’s fabric. “No morning - too early...”

A humorous laugh leaves Dionysus as they bend down to leave a dozen more kisses. “Not even for some breakfast?”

A pause. An eye peeks open. “...Mngh.”

In translation: Always for food.

“Alright, I’ll make some animal pancakes.” Dionysus begins to move, but blinks from the slight tug on the end of their suit jacket. Turning back, they spy the hand that clings to it before lifting their head to face the smiling beaut. “What’s wrong?”

A wide grin appears and the librarian lifts themselves up, planting a light peck on Dionysus’s cheek. “Welcome home.”

The poor soul’s heart implodes from the cuteness overload.

Ares: “Fucking pansy shits, acting like kids with scissors...”

Ares just isn’t taking any more shit from the governmental branch. It’s bad enough they’re given weapons - now they have people wielding them, flailing about with a magnum, refusing to take better maintenance with them. If it wasn’t for the fact this was an undercover mission, Ares would have wiped their asses with armor-piercing rounds from an AK-47.

They make their way into their apartment, dumping their duffle bag onto the end of the coat hanger as they strip off their jacket, frustratingly untying their tie. It doesn’t make shit better when they had to have a long drive under the hot, fucking sun and get home just as night falls.

They couldn’t even visit that cadet of theirs on the day of their return - fucking bastards.

“I swear, I’m gonna beat the shit-” Their words stop short upon stepping into their room to eye the form occupying their bed.

The little hacker actually took over their bed.

With their shirt.

In their PJs.

Did they miss Ares that much?

“...Heh.”

A shark-like smile appears on their face and they step into the bathroom. Even after their shower, the cadet is still sleeping. Fully dressed to sleep with dried hair, Ares sighs and climbs into the bed before wrapping their cadet’s body.

“Fucking sap.” Ares mumbles, closing their eyes as a brief smile appear on their face.

???: The apartment door opens and closes without missing a beat, the figure tiredly stepping into the dark flat despite how it’s early morning.

Footsteps tread silently to the bedroom. And there, ??? makes the discovery of the figure on their bed, the brief moment of alerted panic shifting to a calm fulfillment; should have known their tweety bird misses them.

??? steps closer to the bed, reaching up to gently squeeze the bridge of the librarian’s nose. Watching their nose wrinkle, ??? nearly snort with amusement before kneeling onto the ground and fold their arms onto the edge of the bed, resting their chin on their folded arms to continue admiring the blissful sleep of their lover and how that smile - that bright, dazzling smile - make the world whole once more for ???.

(Bonus)

After a decent amount of time, ??? finally moves. They pull one of their larger drawers open and pull out a trumpet. They don’t really play instruments; it was mainly to annoy a notable friend of theirs. Licking their lips with eyes glinting with devious intent, they open their mouth...

Needless to say, ??? enjoys their method of waking their early bird.

[winterscaptain]

in harmony.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: i’ve cast the choirs (because i think i’m hilarious) and have a playlist to listen to as you read, if you want the ~full experience~. i’ve done my best to time it out with the music so it flows properly, depending on how fast you read. the beginning moves a little faster than the music, so i would recommend starting the playlist at the beginning of the fic. this one has been living in my head rent free for way too long and i’m so stoked to share it with you.

straight no chaser as the nsa mc6 a cappella as the atf pentatonix as the fbi

words: 4035 warnings: mild swearing, internal monologuing, and pining!hotch ft. supportive!jj, tw: a capella themes setlist here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7GQkhBUhUfdJI4m0vZbqbJ?si=46TMCTj9SkCRoHlnAxHfkg

masterlist | requests closed!

The Official Unofficial Los Angeles Inter-Agency Choral Competition was in its final stages of preparation, and you were at the center of it. CIA did the judging, as usual, and each agency had a team, a setlist, and a competitive streak a mile long. 

Because the bragging rights awarded by the CIA were so coveted, the agents involved in the choral groups got a half day off of work, waived by the Assistant Directors themselves. 

Thus, the NSA, ATF, and FBI choral teams were goofing around in the federal building auditorium with the abandon of a bunch of high schoolers. Sound check was always criminally fun, and most of it was spent giving each other a hard time and arranging music on the fly. 

The engineers were still working and would still need a few minutes to themselves before you all got onstage and ran your sets. 

“Hey, Bureau.” 

You turned, finding Ben behind you in his black button-up and tie. “Hey, dumbass.” 

Ben was the arranger for the NSA team and your closest friend in Los Angeles. You got along famously, and you joked that the friendship between you was the only reason there was interagency cooperation in your jurisdiction at all. 

He was looking particularly sharp this afternoon, as the NSA team prided themselves on their polished performance aesthetic. 

“Ready for tonight?” He asked. 

You laughed. “God, am I ever. I’ve been working CT down in the bunker for weeks.” 

“Oh, dude that’s brutal. When was the last time you saw daylight?”

You blew air through your lips. “Ah, fuck, I dunno, like a week?”

Ben laughed and slung an arm around your shoulders. “This is a helluva way to get back into civilization with the rest of us.” 

You scoffed. “It’s bold to imply anyone at the NSA is a part of any society.” 

“C’mon. Trash talking doesn’t start until we’ve rehearsed at least once.” He jostled you, and you let out another peal of laughter. 

“Try me, hot shot.” 

Meanwhile, upstairs, the BAU was finishing up their goodbyes and case reports for the Los Angeles field office. There was a spree killer wreaking havoc in the Mid-City neighborhood, and the BAU was of enormous help in apprehending the suspect. 

You’d been in the aforementioned CT bunker for at least a week and had no idea your (greatly missed) former unit was on your side of the country, let alone in the same building.  

“Oh!” Agent Fitzgerald said, suddenly. The BAU looked up all at once, and it was almost comical. “I completely forgot. There’s an event tonight that’s always really fun. If you all aren’t in any rush to get back to Quantico, we’d love for you to stay. If you’re eager to get back, they’re in the auditorium right now for a dress rehearsal and it shouldn’t take more than a half hour.” 

JJ’s head tilted. “What’s going on?”

“The Official Unofficial Los Angeles Inter-Agency Choral Competition.” Fitzgerald grinned. “It’s really fun, surprisingly good, and never not hilarious.” 

Emily laughed. “You’re kidding.” 

“Not even a little.” 

+++

Ben and his team were in the middle of their set, and you were bopping along with some of the ATF guys in the corner. 

You couldn’t deny the talent on the NSA team. They were clean-cut, crisp, and well-arranged (thanks to Ben), but you couldn’t help but think they were a little too polished. 

Ben had the lock on comedic mashups, and had a great on-stage persona - one of the very few NSA agents with a sense of humor. He sang directly to you, much of the time, in rehearsal because he knew it made you laugh. His sense of humor was infused through all the arrangements, and the lyrics alone were enough to have you on the floor.

Their movie medley opener was your favorite, full of silly references and even a sing-along section. You knew all the words simply because you’d sat with Ben as he spent three days arranging and adjusting it a couple of months ago. Obviously, you offered absolutely no help because all you wanted was to watch him crash and burn. 

Maybe some sabotage could come in handy next time…

They rounded out their set with a clean-cut cover of Smash Mouth’s All Star. Ben was always in it for the laugh, and you loved it. Both teams in the house were laughing as the NSA made increasingly bigger spectacles of themselves. 

It was easier to forget how much you missed your family in Virginia when you were with the other teams - rehearsing and bonding and spending time together. There was no unit in Los Angeles like the BAU insofar as the bond between team members, but this event always mimicked it better than anything else. 

Without Ben, you’d barely have anyone at all. He happened to be assigned to you as a liaison between agencies on one of your first cases, and you got on like a house on fire. His friends became your friends, and you found your footing in your new home. They showed you the best beaches (Manhattan and Malibu), the best sushi (Enya), and perhaps most importantly - the best route and attack strategy for navigating the hell that was LAX. 

You avoided calling your old unit as much as possible, as you were sure it would keep you from fully settling down. If half of your head was in Virginia, you’d always hate Los Angeles. That said, Aaron was still the first number on your speed dial, and your thumb spent a fair amount of time hovering over it before inevitably shoving it back in your pocket. You’d done it just today, walking from your office to the auditorium. 

You left the ATF to their ridiculous devices, and joined your team in the house. 

“Doin’ alright? I heard it was a rough week for y’all down in CT.” Michael, a Texas native and an insane talent, could have been an excellent profiler if he wasn’t so great at ferreting out tax fraud. You both spoke in hushed tones, as to not disrupt the rehearsal. 

You nodded, patting him on the arm. “I’m alright.” 

“Missin’ home?” 

You nodded again. “Just a bit. It’s weird coming out into the world after being in the bunker - it’s almost like I don't remember where I am, and I almost expect to be somewhere else.”

He didn’t say anything, but leaned against you. It was a small gesture, but a meaningful one.

When NSA was finished, with their levels set and lights programmed, it was ATF’s turn to get up on stage and flutter around until they were adjusted. 

Michael said something ridiculous, and it made you laugh out loud. You slapped a hand over your mouth, hearing it resonate through the house as one of the floor mics picked it up.  

At the back of the auditorium, only minutes prior, Agent Fitzgerald had slipped in with the BAU. They all stood along the back wall, and you only would have seen them if you knew where to look. The auditorium was massive, and the only lights up were the lights onstage - distinguishable features were nearly impossible to determine from the distance. 

Aaron’s breath caught for a moment. A microphone picked up someone’s laugh near the stage, and it sounded startlingly like yours.  

Must be mistaken. There’s no way. 

As ATF started up, Ben grabbed you by the hand and pulled you to your feet. He turned you under his arm and led - dancing you around on the floor at the front of the stage. You laughed your way into his arms, and fell into a relaxed Lindy Hop. You took turns leading, throwing him under your arm just as many times as you ducked under his. 

Aaron’s thoughts wandered, the laugh he heard triggering something in him. He missed you greatly, but that was no secret. You two had started seeing each other, unbeknownst to the team, a little more than three months before your transfer. 

The team were too polite to tell you, but they knew something was going on from the get-go. Hotch was happier, and you were more effusive in all situations. You balanced each other well, and could bounce ideas and fight and communicate like nobody else in the unit. It was an asset more than anything, but when the transfer assignment came through, there was no negotiating. 

For all involved, you decided it was best to end things - or at least pause them - while you were stationed at the LA field office. It would be too hard, and you’d hate to hate him by the time you got back to Virginia for one reason or another. So, you were alone at the LA field office, while he stayed right were he was. 

Wait. The LA field office. 

He was jarred from his thoughts by JJ, who smiled and asked, “What’s their deal?” Her eyes were trained on the dancing couple on the house floor, out in front of the apron of the stage. 

“Oh those two are the only reason the FBI and NSA play nicely in the sandbox together. They’re two peas in a pod. They work counter-terrorism for their respective agencies, and have a knack for solving inter-departmental disputes.” 

“Are they together?” JJ’s question was light, but Hotch knew there were ulterior motives. Maybe she’d heard your laugh too, and refused to doubt. 

She was good at that - not doubting. Hotch, on the other hand, sucked at the whole faith thing. He found his skepticism was only getting worse with age, and he (in that very moment) decided to have a little more hope. 

“Oh, no, not at all. Ben doesn’t swing that way, and my understanding is that Agent L/N left someone back on the east coast and hasn’t been seeing anyone out here.” It was clear Agent Fitzgerald, a new import to the LA field office herself, had no idea you worked with the BAU prior to your transfer. 

Maybe you hadn’t talked about them at all. 

That thought sent a little unpleasant spike through Hotch’s chest. 

Hope. Hope. 

Maybe Fitzgerald just missed something, or didn’t know you too well. 

Hotch could feel Emily’s eyes on him, but continued watching the ATF runthrough. It was your laugh he heard. Ben threw you around with ease, and you both cut clean, sharp lines silhouetted against the stage lights. 

Then, of course, it was Emily’s turn to ask questions. “So how did this...tradition start?”

Fitzgerald shrugged. “It’s my understanding that it’s been happening for years, brought on by some ridiculous bet between ATF and FBI. Never ones to be outdone, the NSA inserted themselves, the CIA wanted a piece of action, and the rest is history.”

“Only in California,” said Dave with a laugh. 

As the songs changed, Aaron watched you tap out of the dance, sitting down heavily in one of the house seats and taking a few huge sips of water. Ben grabbed his water bottle from the floor and came to the row behind you, wrapping his arms around you from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder. 

Though he was just told Ben would not ever be into you in that way, Hotch couldn’t help the prickle of jealousy that snuck up his belly. JJ, beside him, stepped close to him and hooked her hand around his forearm, her thumb brushing circles against his suit jacket. 

“I’m alright,” he whispered. 

She squeezed once. “I know.” It sounded like she knew more than that, but Hotch let it go. While sometimes irritating, it was nice to have people around him that knew him so well. 

JJ continued to cling to his sleeve as the ATF transitioned to the FBI. 

It nearly startled him out of his skin to hear your voice echo through the house on a hand-held microphone. You stood on the edge of the stage, squinting at the booth at the back of the house. “Can we run full tech? We have AV that needs to be sequenced correctly.” 

A click, then a disembodied voice. “We’re ready for full AV.”

You shot a two fingered salute. “Thanks, team. Let’s bring up the seal for now and go from there.” 

The FBI seal and motto floated into focus on the fabric behind them, and Aaron felt himself almost lean forward in anticipation. He chanced a look down the line, and the rest of his team was smiling, waiting, watching. Just like he was. 

JJ bumped his shoulder.  

The stage was rather dark, but he could see all five of you lined up almost against the fabric. The song started quickly, with strong base and an uptempo beat. 

Your team ran to the front of the stage one by one, following the phrases of the music - fun and high energy. 

“I didn’t know…” Emily whispered to Derek, at a loss. He shrugged, still totally floored. You’d never joined them in their horrible karaoke spectacles, claiming the sanctity of your dignity, but Hotch realized now it was just to spare their feelings. 

You were incredible. Your eyes shone in the light, your smile flashing behind your microphone. It was obvious you were having a helluva time, and were close to your teammates. You played off each other easily, keeping pace without conducting, feeling the music and harmony in every cell of your body. Hotch saw your work ethic even in this - collaborative, but still taking charge. 

It was clear your team looked to you for tone and energy, and you delivered. With a start, Aaron realized he’d never heard this song before. He leaned forward and asked, “Are some of these originals?”

Fitzgerald nodded. “The FBI team has a few strong writers on it this year, so they were able to pull together a medley, an original, and the closer in about three weeks.” 

Hotch raised his eyebrows. “Wow. That’s impressive.” 

She laughed lightly. “You’re tellin’ me. I was in here one day when they were workshopping after hours and was blown away.” 

When you were finished with your first piece, you looked back to check the cyc - satisfied to find Home, arranged by Y/N L/N in gold, in the FBI font. 

“I’m gonna practice my little spiel here or I won’t get it tonight. I’ll count you off at the end, go on three, yeah?” 

Click. “Copy. Go for it,” came the disembodied voice once more. 

“When we were deciding which medley we wanted to use, we figured out there was nothing in our library that really spoke to us at that moment where we were. So, we wrote a new one. This one is called Home, and includes a bunch of songs that not only include the word ‘home,’ but ones that mean something to us or someone we love. 

“Home, to us, is where our families are. We all chose a series of pictures that represent home for us, the people we love. I hope you enjoy listening to this medley as much as we enjoyed writing it.” You flashed a winning smile before raising your hand, waiting a moment, and then dropping it, immediately starting to sing. 

The rest of your team fell in right away, stepping up to the mics and sinking into the arrangement. A figure jogged up the steps toward Hotch, and he latently realized it could only be Ben, his agile stride giving him away. 

He settled right beside Hotch, leaning against the wall. Needless to say, Aaron was confused. That is, until - 

“You’re Hotchner, aren’t you?”

Aaron kept his gaze trained on the stage. “Who’s asking?”

“Ben Collins, NSA. I would be a really shitty friend if I couldn’t recognize someone I’d seen in a framed photo on Y/N’s desk like 20 times.” 

With that, he gave Hotch a mock-salute and trotted back down the stairs. 

JJ furrowed her brow. “What was that about?”

“I have no idea,” Hotch admitted. “He knew me, though, from photos.” 

He felt, rather than saw, JJ’s smile as she bumped him with her shoulder. “Focus - You’re missing it.” 

He huffed a laugh, and tuned back in. 

Home was an undeniably fun medley, and the photos were heartwarming and strategically chosen to hide all faces except the agents’ on stage. Aaron smiled when he heard a line from one of his favorite songs. 

Our house Is a very very very fine house...

Just a brush, but it felt like your touch, your smile, reaching him. You took the next section with renewed energy, never falling into stillness as you drove the music forward. 

JJ clutched at Hotch’s sleeve, and he lifted his gaze from you to the cyc. On it, there were photos of Dave’s backyard, mixed in with what he only assumed were the pictures from your teammates’ homes and families. They were piling on top of each other, as if someone was throwing them into a pile, one by one. 

A photo of JJ, Emily, and Penelope flashed by, their backs to the camera. 

There was one of you, Jack’s face hidden in your neck as you smiled fondly at the person just to the left of the camera. Aaron recognized that image, but from a different angle. You’d been smiling at him, just next to Emily. 

Emily’s eyes strayed to Hotch. There was a look on his face she’d never seen before. She almost looked away, feeling like she was intruding on an intimate moment. Instead, she lightly smacked Derek’s shoulder, and he looked over too. 

“The separation has been hard on them both,” he said, his voice low. “Look.” He tipped his chin toward you. 

Your posture didn’t look any different to anyone who knew better, but Emily could see the slight sag in your shoulders, hear the small catch in your breath. The music affected you more than you’d care to admit. 

A photo came into view on the screen - one where you stared out the jet window with your chin in your hand, Hotch’s face pressed into your torso as he slept with his head in your lap. Your fingers were tangled in his thick dark hair, twirling absent-minded curls into the locks behind his ear. JJ smiled. She’d taken that one. It was soon covered with another, then another, then another. 

Agent Fitzgerald bid the team a quiet farewell and slipped out to take a phone call. Hotch barely noticed. She’d been on her phone most of the time, and had missed the photos. She was blissfully unaware of your connection to the team, and for that Hotch was grateful. It almost felt wrong to disrupt the little world you’d built here. 

They were almost done, preparing for the closer. 

Maybe he was biased, but Hotch felt your team was the strongest. 

NSA had the polish and that classic choral look and looked like they were having just the right amount of fun, but there was still that competitive edge that took some of the luster out of the performance. 

ATF were the most traditional of the group, all of their music recognizable, tightly arranged, and reminiscent of barbershop quartets. While entertaining, it was clear you and Ben stole the show with your dancing, the music taking a ready backseat to your antics. 

Your team had fun. There was no bite in it. You weren’t there to win, but rather just there for the sheer fun of it. Your music was yours, it meant something, and was more creatively arranged than the rest of them by a long shot. 

Aaron felt a rush of pride as he watched you shine. While he couldn’t articulate it, he could sense the same thing Derek noticed. There was something pulling at you - the same thing pulling at his shoulders and the corners of his mouth whenever he had fun without you. 

“Alright,” you said, just a little out of breath. You took the mic off the stand. “We have one last number, and we all sing it together.” You held the mic out to your left, and Ben took it from you. 

“This is our favorite, because it’s a really good excuse to think of the people we love.” 

Some agent (whose name always escaped you) from the ATF took the mic next. “Thanks for coming out tonight to watch our ridiculous annual competition, for bragging rights and honorary ownership of the City of Los Angeles.” 

Ben took the mic from him and passed it back to you. 

“I hope we all have someone in our life that we love so much it's difficult to articulate. I know I do.” 

JJ inhaled sharply as Hotch let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. You missed him. He could feel it. He wasn’t alone. 

You replaced the mic, and stepped back. With the FBI in the center, ATF to the right, and NSA to the left, you began. 

There’s a calm surrender To the rush of day When the heat of a rolling wave Can be turned away

It was a beautiful picture, all of you standing together as one united front. The sound was incredible - filling the space with sound that spun right into the chests of everyone listening. You stepped up with Ben and an ATF agent, standing close to the mic. 

Ben reached for your hand, knowing this one was hard for you. You’d probably never get a chance to have Hotch in the same room, feeling what you felt, singing this song. It was silly - a Disney song. But it always cracked you wide open. It was only ever for him. 

You took Ben’s hand and gripped it tight. It wasn’t performance, so you could really do whatever you wanted as long as sound and projections were able to do their work. 

The breakdown of the song was your favorite, and you threw your hands in the air, releasing Ben - the final lighting cue of the show. It was designed to bridge the gap between the players and the audience, bringing everyone together.

The house lights came on about halfway, and the BAU was visible from the stage, as they’d all crept forward during the set. Hotch could only imagine what that lighting effect would do when the house was full of agents and their families later tonight. A true communion, with the music and the people. 

Your eyes scanned the house, rehearsing your engagement pathway through the audience. A small cluster of people caught your attention, and Ben squeezed your hand. You looked over at him, still singing, and he gave a tiny toss of his head back to the group. 

Looking more carefully now, you saw your team. More specifically, you saw Aaron. 

He was watching you with a fond smile, and you knew he saw you clock his presence. JJ was on his arm, likely anchoring in him place and comforting him in only the way she could. 

Against your will, a broad smile pulled at your face, a shot of adrenaline pushing you into the finale. Your eyes were locked on his, the music only a footnote to two simple words running on loop in your head. 

He’s here he’s here he’s here he’s here.

The world for once In perfect harmony With all its living things. 

You hit the final chord and let it hang in the air for a moment. It felt like forever - the BAU burst into applause, Derek and Emily whistling and shouting - while you and Hotch just stared at each other across the house.

The connection was only broken when Ben yanked you back to rehearse bows, which took all of thirty seconds. You squinted at your friend when you stood straight again. He had a smug little smile on his face. 

“You knew,” you accused with absolutely no heat. 

Ben shrugged. “I investigated.” He shot you a wink as he said, “It’s what I do.” 

You rolled your eyes and shoved past him, nearly leaping down the steps into the house. You ran up the aisle, and Hotch was there to catch you, holding you close. 

“You’re here.” 

He kissed the side of your head. “Of course I’m here. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @wandaswitxh @hurricanejjareau @fics-ilike @ange-must-die @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts  @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @saintd0lce @good-heavens-chris-evans @davidrossi-ismydad @angelsbabey @gublergirls @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @vintagecaptainspidey @micaiahmoonheart @ogmilkis @thatreallyis-americas-ass @marvels-agents100 @newtslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @joemazzello-imagines @pinkdiamond1016 @sebbybaby0 @lilsiswinchester @pan-pride-12 @hotchlinebling @lee-rin-ah @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @emmice9 @nohalohoseok @giveusbackourbucky @writerxinthedark @mrshotchnerrossimulder21 @bauslut @yourlovelynewsbian @sparklingkeylimepie @aili28 @kingandrear @reader4027 @spnobsessedmemes @rogers-mouth @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @hotchnersgoddess @buckybau @phoenixfyre374 @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandi-ass-prentiss @songbird400 @dontkissthewriter @ellyhotchner @a-dorky-book-keeper @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @ahopelessromantic @violentvulgarvolatile @andreasworlsboring101 @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @bwbatta @roses-and-grasses 

[offtopicoverload]

The Forever Breakup

@bubblybabynailpolish 's post on Talia & Jake's friendship hcs got stuck in my head so I wrote a quick one-shot about Jake comforting Talia and MC if they broke up.

~3000 words

“We broke up!” Talia chokes through sobs, her eyes unleashing a waterfall of tears and mascara flowing in watery streams as she does.

Jake stands shell-shocked; a situation he was not prepared for - or even expected to encounter - has shown up at his door, pounding incessantly until he flung it open to find a distraught Talia on the other side.

Without hesitation, he pulls her inside, letting the door fall shut behind them and guides her to the sofa, where she collapses atop it. She wipes at her eyes hurriedly, but it does nothing to stop the onslaught of tears cascading down her cheeks. Jake drops beside her, pulling her into his embrace and soothingly rubbing her back.

She cries into his shoulder for what feels like an eternity to Jake, one that he never wants to experience again, until she quiets enough for Jake to ask the all-important question: “What happened?”

The sobs course through her body again, “I don’t know!” she croaks, trembling in her skin. That’s when Jake takes notice of her clothes: A loose-fitting tank top and shorts even though it’s dark, below freezing, and the middle of January. He detangles himself from her, much to her chagrin, and gathers a thick blanket from across the living room.

He takes a detour into the kitchen, grabbing bottles of water and chocolate biscuits to try and cheer her up when she’s feeling better. He sets them down on the coffee table when he returns, draping the blanket around her shoulders after.

He starts towards the thermostat to turn the heat up and warm her quicker, but her hand delicately grasps at his, drawing his attention down to her. He opens his mouth to explain himself when Talia whispers, her voice already hoarse and strained, “Can you stay? Please?”

Jake does what he’s asked out of concern, love, and fear for his best friend. Talia doesn’t ask him nicely, she doesn’t say ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ to him. They’re not formal or polite, they tease each other mercilessly and couldn’t care less about playing nice. But the plea in her voice triggered alarm bells in Jake’s mind, so he does as requested.

She shifts closer, nearly on top of his lap, curling up against him with her head on his chest and the blanket pulled tight around her. Jake doesn’t ask any questions, just combs his fingers through her hair in what he hopes is a comforting manner.

Talia spends what feels like hours shaking and crying under the blanket, Jake’s arms holding her tight until sleep eventually steals her, her shoulders relaxing and sobs quieting. Jake stays with her for a while longer, careful not to disrupt her.

When he’s confident she’s fast asleep, he slowly pulls away, letting her sink into his sofa cushions with a whimper. Jake stands, staring down at her with a broken heart; his best friend has shattered in front of him, and he has no idea how to fix her.

Then the rage starts to boil under his skin, lighting a fire inside him that he can’t extinguish. He grabs his jacket from beside the front door, carefully and quietly pulling the door open and closed before determinedly exiting the building. He pulls his keys from his pocket, unlocks his car, and starts driving in the direction of Talia and Lilac’s building, intent on getting answers and intent on seeing Lilac for who she really is, cruel and stupid for hurting Talia.

---

Jake stands outside Lilac and Talia’s - Lilac’s - flat, fist poised to knock on the door. He takes a few deep breaths, anger still simmering inside of him but lessened from the wildfire it was a short while ago. He raps his knuckles against the wood, jamming his hands in his pockets to keep from fidgeting or doing something stupid.

Lilac opens the door with red eyes and tear stains on her cheeks, “Um, hi,” she greets half-heartedly, Jake’s resolve crumbling in an instant.

He starts shifting awkwardly on his feet, transferring his weight from foot to foot and pulling his hands from his pockets to wring them before him. “So I heard, er - Talia -” he cuts himself off at the expression of pure pain on Lilac’s face.

Her gaze drops to the ground and her hand holding the door starts gripping it for dear life, her knuckles turning white. “Can we please not do this?” she sounds just as desperate as Talia did, and Jake swears he can hear his heart crack in his chest.

He takes a step closer, reaching to place a hand on Lilac’s shoulder, hoping to steady the slightly swaying woman. But she flinches away from his touch and he lets his hand fall back to his side. His brow furrows in confusion before he asks, “Do what?”

Lilac sniffles, a few tears threatening to spill from eyes from what Jake can tell with her head down, but she doesn’t bother to wipe them away. “The protective big brother thing. I know you just want to help Tals, but now is really not the time.”

He stands still for a moment, sorting through her words carefully. Then he reaches out again, his large hand carefully prying her smaller one from the door, and nudges her inside the flat.

She’s resistant, not moving unless Jake directly guides her, but she enters all the same. They stand beside the closed door for a moment, the silence deafening in Jake’s ears, but he doesn’t push. Doesn’t ask if she’s okay, her shaking hands saying otherwise.

Her hair curtains around her face, preventing Jake from seeing any expression but the haunted and heartbroken one from a few instants ago. Though he doubts there’s much more she’s feeling right now.

Jake glances around the room, finding an uncharacteristic mess. There’s crumpled tissues on the kitchen bar and sofa, a bottle of vodka on the coffee table and whiskey on the kitchen counter. A pile of blankets in the corner has been knocked over, crocheted blankets spread across the living room in heaps, and shattered glass gleams in the hallway.

“Why are you here? You gonna kick my arse for Tals?” Lilac’s jokes, drawing Jake’s gaze. Only there’s no humour, not to Jake at least. Not when there’s shards in the hall and bandaids on her hands and feet.

Jake swallows the lump in his throat at the state of Lilac and Talia, of their flat, of their relationship. “No,” he answers calmly. “Well… maybe that’s why I came. But now I’m worried.” He takes a step closer. Lilac shifts her weight. “What happened?” He takes another step. Lilac slumps at the question and crosses her arms protectively. One more step. Lilac runs her hands up and down her arms. “Talia couldn’t tell me.” One last step, just as Lilac’s shoulders begin to tremble.

Jake pulls her into his arms, letting her sob silently against him in a manner all too familiar, yet simultaneously brand new. He rubs her back until her knees buckle from under her, then he gently lowers her to the ground, her hands grasping at his jacket as tears soak the fabric. “What happened?” he repeats the question for the third time tonight.

Lilac’s shoulders stop heaving as they were, but still shake as she draws in uneven and difficult breaths. “We - we fought. About my family.” Jake grimaces, the small pieces he’s heard from the couple about Lilac’s childhood not triggering a positive reaction. “And I -” her voice cracks and she gasps, no longer able to form any words.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Jake shushes, “You don’t have to tell me. It’s personal, I get it,” he continues rubbing her back and offering more reassuring noises and sentiments.

“I said she wasn’t my family if they weren’t,” Lilac whispers the words into Jake’s jacket, her voice uneasy but somehow even, regardless of all the tears. “I didn’t mean to hurt her. I was just angry but I still did. And then she said that if she’s not my family then they sure as hell aren’t. And she’s probably right, it’s just hard. But then - then I told her she doesn’t know me or my life, she has no say. I acted like she’s not my life, Jake,” her voice is desperate again, her hands fisting in his coat.

“She is, she so is. She’s everything and she was just trying to help and I wouldn’t let her, but then she said she might as well leave and I said okay fine, even though I didn’t want her to, and then she left and I didn’t stop her, why didn’t I stop her?” she gasps, her breath hitching as she tries to catch it. “And I can’t fix it and now she’s gone and oh my God,” she heaves in a breath after her rambling with a splintered voice, tears trailing down her face again as she stares at Jake’s shirt.

Then her eyes fly up to his, meeting them for what feels like the first time tonight, “Is she okay?!” she grabs his forearms, tugging him forward and staring into his eyes desperately, searching for something.

He nods quickly, “She’s fine, she’s at my flat,” he rushes. Lilac lets go immediately, falling back to sit on her heels. “Well, she’s not okay but she’s safe. She was asleep when I left.” Lilac nods stiffly, her hands clenching at his words.

Jake sees a bandage on her hand and carefully reaches out, eager for a change in topic. He has a hard time with heartbreak, but cuts and bruises he can handle, “What happened to your hands?”

Lilac shakes her head, slowly pulling her hand back to herself, “I just - broke a glass. I’m fine,” she answers quietly.

“How’d you break it?” he asks, just as quiet, and lets his hand land on her shoulder, offering a reassuring squeeze.

“I threw it.” Her body’s still, voice hesitant while her eyes dig into her lap.

Jake’s taken aback by the answer, but does his best not to show his surprise at her admission to a violent outburst, “Why’d you throw it?”

“She left,” Lilac whispers, her only response for a long moment.

Then she swallows harshly, “I was drinking but it wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t stop and I hate myself and I was so mad and I threw it. And it hit the wall and it shattered, and I felt bad. She liked that glass and I broke it because I suck. So I tried to pick it up but I couldn’t find the broom because she always moves it ‘cause I knock it over, so I tried to use my hands but then it cut me and I kept stepping on it and I gave up and just drank some more. And it wasn’t enough, but I didn’t want to break any more of her glasses.”

Jake nods along, carefully reaching out and taking hold of her hand. He inspects her for any unbandaged cuts, and, when none are found, squeezes her hand, “Are you bleeding anywhere?”

She shakes her head, “Not anymore.”

He nods cautiously, glancing back around the room. He can still see the light bouncing off the shards scattered across the room, but most of the mess is out of his line of sight. He releases her hand and stands, gently patting her head as he passes.

He makes his way to the closet at the opening of a separate hallway, pulling it open to find a broom and dustpan inside. He’s seen Talia shove it in there countless times, always muttering about Lilac forgetting where it goes. He pulls it out and shuts the door, turning to the splintered glass on the hardwood. He meticulously sweeps it up, careful to get every last sparkling fragment.

When he’s done he walks to the kitchen, dumping the glass in the bin before returning the broom to the closet. Then he carefully scoops the tissues from the counter into the bin, repeating the exercise in the living room, too. He places the bottles of alcohol next to the others by the fridge, screwing the caps on tight. He tugs the fridge door open in search of water, finding a few bottles in the door.

His careful footsteps lead him back to a slumped Lilac that hasn’t moved since he left her, hands gripping one another tightly as she stares at the dark wood beneath her with dull eyes. He sits beside her, folding his legs in front of him, and offers an open bottle.

She only takes it when he prys her fingers apart and wraps them around it. She takes careful sips, never once meeting Jake’s concerned gaze, and he’s almost grateful for it. Almost grateful that he doesn’t have to see any more pain tonight.

His fingers start to skate along her spine, “Feeling any better?”

She laughs a horrid, broken, crumbling laugh, “No. No, I’m not, Jake, and I don’t -” her voice cracks before returning, barely audible, “I don’t know if I ever will at this point.”

He stops his skating, “Why not?”

“I broke it and I can’t fix it,” she sniffles.

“You can buy another glass,” he suggests hesitantly.

She chuckles that heart-shattering chuckle again, “I didn’t mean the glass. I meant us. I can’t go back, that’s forever.”

“Right,” he mumbles sheepishly. “Maybe you can though?” he tries an optimistic outlook, one that Lilac isn’t a fan of.

“No. She left because I made her. That makes it real and permanent and forever. It’s a Forever Breakup, Jake.”

Jake asks the dumbest question he can think of before he can even stop himself, “Do you want it to be forever?”

“Of course not,” she spits. “Of course not,” she repeats, more controlled now, “But I can’t fix it; she left.”

Jake leans into the optimism, the romantic inside of him getting the better of him, “Maybe if you try right now? Sooner rather than later, you know?”

There’s that crushing tremble of vocal cords again, but no words follow. Lilac just shrugs, defeated and hopeless, taking a chug from the water bottle she’s been slowly tracing with a nail.

A buzzing sounds from the kitchen, recognized by Jake as his own ringtone. He stumbles to his feet, rushing over to grab his phone from the counter. Talia’s contact is on display, the vibrations nearly sending the device crashing to the ground.

He answers, cautiously stepping into the far hallway and towards the washroom, “Hello?” he almost whispers.

“Where are you?” Talia’s voice sounds panicked, her breathing quick.

“I, um, I’m sorry, I came to your flat. I’m with Lilac.” Jake fidgets with his jacket’s zipper, nerves starting to overwhelm him.

“Oh.” The other line is quiet for a while, only staggered breathing flowing from the speaker. “Is - is she okay?”

Jake lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, “Not really, honestly. She broke a glass you liked and I think she feels really bad about.”

“Okay.” She’s reflective, voice turning distant. “Just a glass?”

“Yeah,” Jake confirms. Then he pauses, brow furrowing, “Does she usually break stuff?”

“No. Well, kinda. She dropped a mirror on accident once. A mug, too, but she got really worked up about it.”

Jake can't help the smile from splitting his lips at the ease of Talia’s voice, her typical attitude falling back into place. “Was it your mug?”

“Yeah. How’d you know?” Talia asks warily.

Jake grins wider, “No reason,” he attempts to breeze past it, maybe annoy her along the way.

“Whatever,” Talia huffs.

Jake chuckles a little, glancing back to Lilac, finding her legs now stretched before her as she leans forward, head still drooped. Jake’s laughter falls away at the sight.

He takes a deep breath before proposing a thought that’s rattled around his head since he found the flat in chaos, “Maybe you guys should talk. Work through things sooner than later?” he repeats that phrase again, hoping Talia might accept it more than Lilac.

“You think we could?” Talia’s cautiously hopeful on the other end of the line, a clattering sound that Jake can only hope isn’t the destruction of one of his own glasses.

“Yeah,” Jake answers softly, “I mean, I believe in you guys. One argument doesn’t have to wreck everything.”

Talia goes quiet again, leaving Jake to shift nervously. He hasn’t forgotten Lilac’s insistence that they’re over or Talia’s unabashed heartbreak, but he tries to push past the anxiety slowly flooding his chest, determined to fix this and prove they’re not as fragile as a glass. A sigh heaves in Jake’s ear, “Fine. I’ll come over, but you better stay. I need a place to crash if this doesn’t work.”

Jake smiles softly, “Deal. But only in the car. This is your business and I’m not getting any more involved,” he warns.

“Yeah, okay,” Talia concedes, the sound of keys jingling and a door shutting stretching Jake’s smile wider, his eyes glancing back to Lilac once more, this time finding her leaning against the kitchen counter.

---

A knock echoes through the flat. Lilac’s eyes fly up in a panic from the kitchen, finding Jake’s calm ones already staring back from the living room. He gives her a gentle smile and an encouraging nod.

Jake’s only taken a few steps towards the door when it slowly opens, Talia stepping in the room with her hair now tied back and one of Jake’s jackets - a leather one she bought him, actually - falling from her shoulders. She shuffles inside, keeping her eyes on Jake to avoid the grey ones staring in shock at her profile.

Jake smiles reassuringly at her too, carefully but quickly making his way to the door. He pats Talia’s shoulder as he steps outside and closes the door behind him. But he’s slow enough to hear a nervous ‘hi’ and a watery ‘hey.’

He walks out of the building and uses the flashlight on his phone to find his car, unlocking it with the click of his keys. Slipping into the driver’s seat with a sigh, he lets his head fall back to the headrest. His eyelids start to feel heavy, being awake in the late hours of the night a rare occasion for him.

His phone buzzes, jolting him awake. He scrambles to find it, pulling it from his jacket pocket and finding a large 2:43 on his lock screen. A text notification is just below it, with Talia’s name at the top.

He smiles down at the screen, sticking his key in the ignition and pulling out of the parking lot. He navigates back to his own flat in low light from street lamps, watching the few people still awake go about their late nights and early mornings.

When Jake slumps into his bed, yanking the covers up to his chin with a contented sigh a half hour later, he can’t help but smile at the two words that had greeted him on his phone screen, relishing in the abolishment of The Forever Breakup: ‘we’re okay.’

[elviradelosreyes09]

PANDEMIC ATTACKED!

We all know the effects the pandemic had on the world economy as well as how people function in society. Without a doubt, the pandemic has caused difficulties for everyone, affecting their lifestyles, work, school and how they interact with others.I think this is expecting /not expecting happened in our life.When I go somewhere I need to wear some face mask ,faceshied, and bring alcohol.At first I eritated because I am not comfortable.Normal living turn in to challenging.It really challenge for us you don't know if one-day you got sick. We have no Idea for tommorow will come.

A pandemic is not just a medical phenomenon; it affects individuals and society and causes disruption, anxiety, stress, stigma, and xenophobia. The behavior of an individual as a unit of society or a community has marked effects on the dynamics of a pandemic that involves the level of severity, degree of flow, and after effects. Some of possitive and ngeative effects of panmic was “Staying home as a limitation of autonomy,” “School as an educational, not relational environment,” the impact of a “new life routine,” and experiencing “anguish and loss” are the four emergent themes for negative experiences.

As for positive experiences, the four themes were “Being part of an extraordinary experience,” “Discovering oneself,” “Re-discovering family,” and “Sharing life at a distance.”Because of pandemic we have time for our family that's why you can make a strong communication with them.Discovering oneself is one of the best happens in pandemic. Sometimes I choose to be lonely and think what is my goal on this life.Am I a worth? Am I help my sorroundings? My family and friends? Those toughts help me to discover that someday I want to be a doctor or nurse.

In the meantime, find a way to stay in touch with loved ones through social media, phone calls and texts, or even old fashioned hand written notes. Record your thoughts and feelings as you navigate through these days of insecurity. You are now part of history in the making; imagine the stories you can tell our youth in a few years. Whatever you do, don’t be discouraged. Be mindful of what is still within your power to do and do it. Keep moving, keep being productive. Take time to reflect on who or what is most important to you. This is a good time to take good care of yourselves and to be kind to others.

Loving God, we arise today to face the challenges on the road ahead. It is clear that our current situation needs us to be steadfast and persistent in our response to COVID-19; as this is a marathon, not a sprint.Just Never lost our hope this will end by God's will.Continue fighting along with Him.

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Angst 1 for Jason? I'm feeling like some sad lightning boi I dont know why but ye

Hello darling Anon! Thanks for the prompt and I hope I did you well🥺 dis is hella angsty

Jercy Masterlist

Jason Grace doesn't have enough fingers to list how many things he's done wrong in the last month.

1. Losing his best friend

2.Losing his girlfriend

3.Being unable to help all the demigod's he's promised

4.Letting Reyna down by not coming back to SPQR

5.Dammit he can't even put on his fucking shirt the right way.

Holding in a scream he tugs it off and flips it so the tag is on the inside. He's proud of himself for not ditching clothing altogether, ditching life altogether. There is so much temptation in taking to the skies and floating for the rest of his days. It's not like anyone would miss him, would even notice he was gone. And maybe it's for the best. It certainly wouldn't be unexpected. For years he's wanted to be anonymous, just another one of the Campers. For years he's secretly rejected his titles as Son of Jupiter, Praetor of New Rome, Slayer of the Black Throne. He shouldn't complain now that he's ignored, unwanted.

There's a knock at his cabin that he pulls him out of his self-deprecating pity hour. Checking to make sure he has his pants and shirt on and his head firmly on his neck he grabs his sword and opens the door.

"Jason!" Will Solace gasps, "Please come it's Nico!"

His heart turns to stone, lungs become useless masses, "Let's go." He manages to breathe, "Brief me on the way."

They sprint through the camp, uncaring of the shouts and greetings coming from every side. They don't have time. It seems ever since they had defeated Kronos the clocks spin uncontrollably; hours are seconds and minutes only exist in the afternoon and nobody knows if one week is seven days or three blinks of an eye, if years are twelve months or a century.

"A breach at the west border. Monsters we've never seen before. They just snuck up on us. Nico's been raising the dead to fight but I'm afraid he's not strong enough yet. Not after the war. He'll burn out soon and they'll overwhelm him." Will gasps.

"How many?"

"Twenty maybe twenty five?"

"You call anyone else?"

The Son of Apollo shakes his head as they sprint around the corner, "Percy is in school he only arrives tomorrow. Clarisse is gone to visit her mom and there's so many Campers in the infirmary. The rest are the little ones."

"How fa—" Jason beholds the scene in front of him and every nerve in his body shut down.

There in the middle of skeletal warriors and black shadows is Nico Di Angelo. All around them are scaly four-legged vipers hissing and spitting. One opens its grossly enormous jaw and snaps it around a skeleton with a sickening crunch. Another skeleton pops up in the exact same place and with a rattling, he supposes is a scream, attacks the monster.

"NICO!" Will screams, trying to catch his boyfriend's attention.

The Son of Hades although dangerously powerful is grey and heaving as if the sheer force of his summonings are turning his own body to it's bony structure.

"Go!" Will shouts at him.

With a nod, Jason pulls his sword out and steps into the ring of the dead.

Gods these things are a hundred times more terrifying up close. Sharp teeth and poisoned spikes on their tales and oh gods jagged claws to top it all off. But he's fought armies before and survived. This will not deter him. So with the force of Zeus and the strategies of Jupiter flowing through his muscles he brings his sword down on the first creature.

It shrieks and his ears ring like a bell clanging in his skull. But the head thumps to the ground and the monster crumbles to dust.

Decapitation then.

He sidesteps the swish of a tail, chopping it off as it goes past. First mistake. Three tails grow back and he knows one drop of poison will be enough to end him. He vaults into the air using the wind to push him as high as possible and then he's slamming in the body of the creature and sawing at its head.

His foot slams into the ground as the monster powders underneath him. Second mistake. His ankle is broken and there's three more of these things advancing towards him.

He bites down a scream as he attempts to walk. It's no use. Stand here and fight it is. Summoning as much lightning as he can, blue eyes sparking maliciously, he looks directly into the first of them and slams five thousand volts of electricity into its brain. Before he knows it's dead he's onto the next. This time he bides his time, let's it come closer and when he can hear its ugly breathing and feel its lack of heat he stabs his sword into its neck and watches it bleed black.

The third monster is clever, it's learnt. But Jason doesn't know. So he gathers all his strength and waits for it to pounce. By now Nico is a few meters away, holding his own but pale beyond healthy. The monster shakes its body, scales rippling in the afternoon sun. It takes one step closer. Jason grips his sword, holds the power thrumming in his fingers. The monster moves again and he swears its smiling.

He turns to Nico, "You good?"

Third mistake. The monster let's out a vile screech and slams into them.

"NICO!" Someone screams. It sounds like Percy Jackson. But that can't be right. Percy is in school.

The creature's tail swipes at the Son of Hades.

Jason can't move as it's claws wrap around his throat.

I can't do anything right, he thinks. Those talons pierce his skin. The world goes black.

***

"He's a fucking idiot."

"Lay off. How was he supposed to know?"

"Maybe if he wasn't so caught up in trying to make friends he would have been able to do something."

"Leave him alone."

"Alright you lot, get out of here. I'll call you when he's awake."

Jason tries to open his eyes, tries to say something, anything. But he feels a prick in his neck and reality fades away.

***

"Is he awake?"

"How long does this take?"

"He had a broken ankle and a slit throat. Maybe a little patience is in order?"

"I still think we should send him back."

"That's enough! It wasn't his fault and we will stop acting like it.".

The Son of Jupiter groans, blinking into the world. Everything hurts. Everything. And the light above his head is blinding.

"What the hell happened?" He rasps.

"You almost got Nico killed is what!" Someone snaps.

He blinks trying to find the source of such bitterness. "I what?"

"What the fuck were you trying to do saying hi in the middle of battle?"

The room finally shifts into focus and he sees three faces staring at him intently, varying degrees of anger and relief in their expressions.

"Well?" Hazel looks at him, "What were you trying to accomplish? Were you actively trying to get him killed? I know you didn't trust him but trying to kill him Jason? I thought you got passed that after Cupid. Nico told me he trusted you."

"Hazel!" Percy Jackson glares at her.

"I'm—" He chokes, "I'm sorry. I just wanted to make sure he was okay. I— I didn't know the monster would try to get both of us." He's crying now, red hot tears spilling onto the white sheets of the infirmary bed.

"That's the problem Grace, you don't think." There is so much pain in her voice.

"Im sorry," He sobs, "Is he okay? Is he— is he—"

"He is fine Jason," Will says softly, "He managed to jump back before the tail swiped him. He's actually really worried about you. We all are."

He doesn't know what to say to that. He doesn't even know if he deserves that. Hazel is right. If he hadn't distracted Nico they wouldn't be in this situation. It was dumb luck that Nico managed to get out of the way. If he hadn't. Oh gods, Jason would have been responsible for killing his friend.

With that though he turns over in his bed and heaves straight into the trashcan.

"Everyone leave us." Percy's voice is soft, but there is an unmistakable command in it.

The buzzing of the infirmary hushes as people file out and Will gently clicks the door behind him.

"I didn't meant to distract him," Jason cries.

The Son of Poseidon clasps their hands together and looks into him, "I know Jase. I know."

He breaks down, sobs wracking his aching body. He can't even keep his head up. And the tears are ever flowing. He can't breathe, he can't breathe, he can't do this.

Percy hops onto the bed and takes him into his arms. They sit there for many moments, the sound of his crying disrupting every inch of the silence.

"I can't do this anymore Percy."

He feels the demigod stiffen and he's afraid he said too much, has pushed another person away. But then his head is being tilted up by a soft hand and he's looking into oceans.

"Tell me what's wrong."

"There is no-one left and I cannot do this alone."

Something sparks in those emerald green eyes.

"You have never been alone Jason Grace. When the world is dust and the gods can once again become mortal, you will find that only one thing still exists."

"What— what is that?" He hiccups.

"Love. You cannot be alone if you have love."

His eyes pool with tears, fall to the floor, "Lies. There is no love."

"You have forgotten my friend what it feels like. And that is no one's fault but ours. We should have been there. Should have helped you, seen the signs. I should have known."

"Why you?"

"Because I know what it's like to have everything you've never wanted and bear the burden anyway. And when I left I added to yours. I'm sorry for that. I got selfish, wanted to know what it was like to live. But that meant you suffered."

"It's not your fault. I just thought I was stronger than I am."

"You are strong. You are so strong because you are still here. You took the nature of the gods and made it your own. Took the burden of everyone in these camps and carried it on your shoulders."

"Thank you," He mumbles, getting lost in the seas, "For saying that. When did you get so philosophical and wise?"

Percy cracks a grin at that, "After Tartarus I started going to therapy. I think you should too."

He mulls it over, flips the idea around in his mind, "Okay."

"And maybe..." The black haired boy pauses, "Maybe you should come with me to Montauk for the winter holidays. I think you could use a break from all the hero stuff."

"Really?" His eyes widen, staring at his friend.

"Really. Annabeth is in Cali to spend time with her dad and my mom and Paul are just going to spend some time at home with Estelle. I could use company."

"Won't you dad like blast me for being in his territory?"

"I'll talk to him," He smirked.

"Okay. That would be great!"

Percy gives him another squeeze and then jumps to the floor.

"Rest easy Grace."

"Jackson," He stops the demigod in his tracks, "Thank you for this. I needed it."

"We are alive Grace, and we are enough." Those green eyes are intense, filled with emotion. "Remember that."

Jason nods and when he finally succumbs to sleep once more, his soul takes a deep breathe and exhales a new beginning.

[thistangledbrain]

I’m writing when my schedule allows! Sorry I’m having to lump days together- but here’s 14 & 15. ☺️

Autism Acceptance Month

Day 14!

“Routine”

Good topic!!

We love routine & structure. Breaks from said routine should come with plenty advance warning, usually, because even if it’s an activity we love, if you spring it on us suddenly, we will likely be less than thrilled. (For example, one beautiful summer morning we approached my youngest and said “let’s go to King’s Dominion today!”...he was about 8. KD is one of his favorite places. But he had already started gaming and was *pissed* about the change of plans. I myself only have two scenarios where I take a sudden change in plans in stride: military/high stress situations, and if it’s my idea. Like if I go INTO a situation knowing things might change on a whim, like chaotic times or what to do on any given vacation day, I usually roll with it really well.) Some auties are better with this than others - remember, we’re all different - if you’ve been reading along since the beginning, you’ll remember I said we all sort of have a “mixing board”, and specific traits are at different levels in different people...and it also tends to ebb and flow as we age.

“Routine” also encompasses what we expect in our immediate environment, to me. I remember when I was a kid and my Momaw (grandmother who mostly raised me) changed her frames on her glasses from those black hornrims to more delicate frames, and the lenses were a different shape, too.

Oh. My. God. I hated it. I HATED it. To this day, I scowl when I think about it. It upset me so badly. She was my rock, my steady - and when her appearance changed, I had a very visceral reaction. I don’t remember if I was ever able to articulate what was wrong, but she must have figured it out, because from there on out when she changed her glasses, I was involved in picking new ones. (That made it SO much easier to accept.) On the same topic, my husband has kept his head shaved since well before I met him. He was still in the Marines when I met him (I had just gotten out 3 months prior), and the man I fell in love with had a shaved head and clean face. Since he’s gotten out, I get uncomfortable when he lets his hair get too long...I’ve gradually come to accept and even appreciate his goatee, but when the rest of his facial or head hair gets long between cuts, it makes me squirm. I am usually more distant when he’s all shaggy - it’s not that I think he looks bad, it’s just that it’s not my familiar guy. (Oh and it *is* a sensory issue. I hate the way facial hair feels when it touches my face - mustaches are particularly offensive.)

But back on “daily routine”....this intense love of the structure *again* comes in handy with the behaviorally challenged and traumatized dogs I work with. (Oh yeah - it came in handy raising two autie boys, too, obviously.) I’m hyperobservant of dogs’ behavior & realized early on that disruptions in routine caused upset or even chaos. Dogs who were not destructive became destructive. Dogs who were calm and measured became frantic. So even when *i* get more relaxed about routines, I am cognizant of the fact that it upsets *them*, and we make adjustments for that. Structure and routine are the bedrocks of working with a “broken” dog. Predictability is key until trust and confidence is gained.

Our love of routine and structure also comes in handy in the military. Of course there are times when a lot of unexpected shit happens, but like...you still have a *mission*, if that makes sense, so shit that happens while accomplishing that mission is whatever (again, same with dogs). Adapt and overcome.

But let’s talk just daily (civilian) life, right?

If I don’t set my alarm early enough to drink a good bit of coffee (slowly and undisturbed) and get used to the idea, for about an hour, that I’m awake and now must Person, it’s a bad day, ‘tater. I don’t care if I have to get up at 3 am to have that hour before work or travel, I NEED that hour. Sometimes I wonder how I made it through motherhood...(I guess once again, when it’s important enough, you just suck it up, buttercup). I also have my evening routines that are important, as did my kidlets, growing up.

Screwing with those routines usually means short tempers, hatred of everything around you, sometimes meltdowns, and just an all around bad time for everyone involved.

So if you have auties in your life, understand that they may *need* that nap during that *specific* time of day, meals should be in certain timeframes, and so on. We all have our little rituals, too, and when those are disrupted, we get disgruntled. We tend to resist changes...even introducing a new food dish or, say, not having spaghetti on Tuesdays when you usually have spaghetti on Tuesdays, your favorite mug not being available for use/lost/broken & now you have to use a different one, not getting to shower before work if that’s your usual, things like that can cause MASSIVE anxiety. I don’t know about other people’s Autie kids, but I know MINE handled routine disruption/change *so* much better when *involved* in the change. Like, sorry that it’s bedtime, but you have choices in what jammies you want to wear, what story you want read, and so on. I know I’m making a new thing for dinner tonight - how about you come help me make it? Stuff like that.

So...I’m ending this post rather abruptly awkwardly & I’m aware it’s a little redundant and scattered, but it was written over the course of 2 days because I’m busy with a dog and a stressed out teenager lately. 🤷🏻‍♀️ Sorry about that!

————————————-

Day 15!

“Everyone should know”...

I could probably keep adding to this post daily. Sigh.

Everyone should know even nonverbal autistics have something to say - you should read their blogs & find out. Everyone should know it offends and hurts us when you treat us as lesser somehow - especially if we know we’re smarter than you, to be frankly honest. Everyone should know autism is a *developmental* “disorder”, NOT an intellectual one - the weirdest, hand flapping, rocking, screeching, seeming mess of an Autie might be one of the most brilliant writers you’ve ever read - I’m dead serious. Everyone should know we all have a voice but sometimes do need some help finding it (and “voice” doesn’t mean just speaking.) Everyone should know talking about autism like it’s an “epidemic” that needs to be “eradicated” invalidates our very existence, and I don’t think I need to expound on what that must feel like, yes? Everyone should know that most (maybe all, idk) of us *would not change* the fact that we are autistic - we aren’t “suffering” with it, YOU are, apparently. We’re occasionally *frustrated* with our brains, but a whole lot more comfortable with how we are than a lot of neurotypicals seem to be. Everyone should know that if someone seems “mildly autistic” (which is what is said about me by people who don’t KNOW me 🙄), know that YOU experience my autism mildly - I don’t. We KNOW you don’t approve...we either hide (mask), or we flip you the big middle finger and say “too damn bad” - and both are usually true with autistic women. (Lots of us start off trying to fit in, but really run out of patience with it. I’ve noticed most of the boys don’t seem to give a flying shit about “fitting in” from jump street LOL...) Everyone should know a LARGE percentage of us are NOT heterosexual. Everyone should know neurodivergence has always been within the human species - it’s just we have more names for shit now, and it’s a little more more socially acceptable to be different, so there are more people “living out loud”, as it should be. Everyone should know that lots of delayed autistic kids grow up to be brilliant scientists and engineers and contribute massively to society - look at Einstein. 🤷🏻‍♀️ Everyone should know we’re human beings, and should be treated as such. xx

[absynthe--minded]

Blessed Hands Will Break Me: The Official Playlist

listen on spotify // listen on youtube

cover art by @princess-faelivrin

Okay. So. I’m gonna try and walk you all through this playlist? It’s a combination of “songs I listened to while writing” and “songs that just have A Vibe”; it’s a little over an hour in length. It’s vaguely meant to evoke the flow of the story, but there’s a little back and forth to facilitate a better listening experience and make it less jarring.

Survivor - Oceans: (And I can’t help but wonder out loud ‘If only we could go back to square one, if finally we could pinpoint where we lost touch, I’d stand alone reaching out my hand to you’) This is where we start the story, more or less, with Findekáno confused and lost and a little angry. It’s a song about separation, about not knowing which way is up or down, about wishing you could rekindle a lost relationship and being a little desperate to do whatever is necessary to fulfill that wish. Also the music and the production create this wonderfully mournful tone; I do get the impression of speeding across a dark ocean with nothing but pain behind and uncertainty ahead.

Emilie Autumn - Castle Down: (Trying to balance all that I had left with what I didn’t have anymore) Findekáno finding out about Maitimo’s capture, and being lost, and trying to rebuild his psyche after such a devastating blow, and wrestling with the fact that his husband is both his savior and his destroyer in one.

Shinedown - If You Only Knew: (I don’t regret any days I spent, nights we shared, or letters that I sent) More reeling from loss - this is very much a story about what you do for love, and musing on what you had before tragedy, and Findekáno’s mental state through much of chapter two matches this kind of frustrated brooding. Not to mention that he’s tormented by Maitimo’s situation and absence enough for his sleep to be disrupted - it’s all he can think on, and it consumes him. The fact that this is sung to an absent lover who presumably can’t hear the singer’s thoughts and isn’t aware of them only makes it more poignant.

Adelitas Way - Last Stand: (And I can’t make it without you, I need a second chance ‘cause I wanna make it about you - I’m making my last stand) Of course, he ultimately does decide that, for better or for worse, he’s going after Maitimo, regardless of the impact on his life and the lives of his people. This is a song about trying to do right by your partner after some kind of separation, and it’s just frustrated and desperate enough to tug at my heart.

Kamelot - Lost and Damned: (Leave me behind, don’t look back) When Maitimo becomes aware of the fact that Findekáno is sharing his consciousness and is seeing what he’s seeing and feeling what he’s feeling, he responds by shoving Finno out of his head and shredding all he can of their marriage-bond to keep his captors from noticing. This song has a specific story function in a greater rock opera, but it really works here.

Journey - Separate Ways (Worlds Apart): (Someday love will find you, break those chains that bind you) If you’re writing a story about Thangorodrim and you don’t put this song on there, what are you even doing? In all seriousness, though, this was my first song that I ever heard that made me go “oh this is about Russingon”. An eternal classic and full of yearning and desperation and pain, and perfect to describe Finno setting out under cover of darkness, I think.

Icon For Hire - Hope of Morning: (When the hope of morning starts to fade in me, I don’t dare let darkness have its way with me) This song, honestly, more than any other I’ve ever heard, is Findekáno. For one thing I’m hooked on associating him with the dawn, and with the hope that comes with the sunrise; normally in Tolkien the Sun is associated with Men and I think it’s a really interesting thing that Finno also has some of that same imagery and energy tied into him, particularly surrounding his death. But beyond that? This is a song about being worried about your legacy, struggling to balance hope and duty and mental health, worrying always that you’re not doing enough and resolving to cling to the dawn and keep looking forward. I can’t think of a better summation of my favorite elvish prince.

Devour the Day - Oath: (One way or another, I’m coming home to you) This song’s title alone would have earned it a spot on the list, but the fact that it’s called ‘Oath’ but is about endurance beyond all else in the name of returning to a loved one’s side? Yeah, that’s Blessed Hands in a nutshell, especially this first part.

Fireflight - You Gave Me A Promise: (I will hold onto this hope that I have, you gave me a promise, you gave me a promise) This is the part of Finno’s journey north that isn’t him being miserable all the time - he’s doing this for love and for the sake of his marriage and the commitments they made to one another, and the hope he has is the hope that he can do right by the nér who promised to share his life.

Linkin Park - The Catalyst: (We’re a broken people living on a loaded gun) The other half of Finno’s journey north is him worrying and fixating on the possibility that he’s left behind his people to freeze to death, even having an encounter with some sort of ghost that feeds off of that fear. What’s more, this song just has an auditory aesthetic of loneliness and cold solitary journeying through desperate situations, and of uncertainty towards the future; that fits well here.

Bastille - Icarus: (Look out to the future, but it tells you nothing, so take another breath) Mountain climbing song! No, really - the way this balances an urgent, frightened beat and fast-paced instrumentation with lyrics about not knowing what’s coming? There’s nothing better for the moments when Findekáno is terrified out of his wits and afraid he’s going to have to shoot Maitimo, only to be saved by an eagle.

Atreyu - Lose It: (This is it, I’m falling - my wings need to grow, I lose my hold, I will let go) This is a song about being afraid of falling, and doing something terrible and frightening. It’s a perfect accompaniment to amputation, and the sick horror of being forced to make a decision that might end in death for all involved.

Sara Bareilles - Gravity: (I never wanted anything so much than to drown in your love) Honestly I like this song less for the lyrics than the overall aesthetic. It’s a peaceful, gentle, regretful tune with so much emotion in it, and its themes of wondering what to do and wondering whether or not to continue on a set path with someone else are fitting. I tend to apply the idea of wanting to leave someone here to mean Finno wrestling with his royal duty - once Sorontar saves him and Maitimo from the cliff, they have the chance to go elsewhere, be other people, leave the Noldor and the Oath and the war behind them. And he chooses not to do this, for both of them, because while he wants to run he knows he shouldn’t.

Skylar Grey - Coming Home - Part II: (I know my kingdom awaits, and they’ve forgiven my mistakes) A soft, sad, mournful reflection on a less than ideal return home, that’s somehow warm and uplifting at the same time. It encapsulates Finno’s feelings on his resumption of duty and social role perfectly.

Meg Myers - Running Up That Hill: (If I only could, I’d make a deal with God, and I’d get Him to swap our places) And now we come to the heart of Blessed Hands, the song that encapsulates the whole of part I in a single tune. I chose this cover by Meg Myers because I like the instrumentation’s aesthetic more than Kate Bush’s original when it comes to this subject, but any version, really, would work. This is a song about wishing things could be different, about trying to make them different, about wishing after changes and alterations. One other line that speaks to me is ‘Is there so much hate for the ones we love?’ which, in the context of this relationship and these families, cuts right to the heart of the whole matter. Blessed Hands Will Break Me is a story about loyalty, more than all else, and about choosing love over hate, and about trying to defy cruel fate and sometimes winning, and this song covers all of that and more.

[melyaliz]

Past loves and future babies pt. 1

Fandom: Marvel / MCU 

Summary: Takes place after the Endgame. After realizing Peggy has moved on Steve comes back to the present to take on his biggest mission ever. 

Have a baby to save the world. 

Pairing: Steve x OC

Notes: So Tony survives but loses one of his arms and has a prosthetic (Why? Because I want him and why not)  

Also, I normally try and make my Reaer/Ocs more basic but I wanted this one to have a VERY specific personality and backstory so Reader felt like to didn’t fit the story. 

All Masterlists @melyalizarchive​

Connect with me! AO3 / Instagram / Pinterest

DONATE or REQUEST

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His future love. 

It all started with a door. An opening to an idea. A name written on a plaque. An idea etched in a golden plaque. 

Margaret Carter. 

He could go back. He could change his fate. He could be happy. 

He could rest. 

But there had been one thing he hadn’t counted on. (Bucky had always warned him that he was too brash. Always running ran into everything head first.)  One variable he hadn’t added to the equation. 

She would fall in love with someone else. 

She would move on. 

But as he stood there in front of her small house laughing in the arms of another man he knew. The way he looked at her his dark brown eyes so bright as she smiled up at him. Had he looked at her that way? 

Had she looked at him? 

Did it even matter? 

All he really knew was the reality of it all. The truth. He knew he couldn’t go back. 

He needed to let her go. 

Let her be happy. 

Even if that meant he never could. 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

“I sear to all the gods above Dixie.”

“What? You didn’t like that?” 

“Let me think… you cutting all the wires before I could finish the transfer while also tripping the alarm which now has you stuck on the top floor of a… million story building… no, I’m not loving this.”

The slender brunette woman paused as she caught herself in the reflection of one of the large glass walls to a meeting room. Pausing she took a moment to check herself out. These new pants made her butt look amazing. This vigilante thing was putting her in the best shape of her life. 

“Aww I believe in your skills Mac.”

“Are you checking yourself out?” 

“What can I say? These metallic leggings are the bomb.” 

“Jesus woman focus!” 

Dixie’s cockatiel attention span was interrupted by the sound of yelling and footsteps getting closer. “Uhhh, Mac.”

“Ok. uhhh down the hall to the left there’s an office, John Mcfly.”

“Oh dear god tell me he has a son named Marty.”

“Dixie…” 

“Ok, ok” her Adidas sneakers slipped slightly on the gray carpet as she caught sight of the plaque. 

John Mcfly CFO.

“Ohhh fancy Mcfly.” slipping into the office Dixie took a moment to catch her breath before looking around. “Mac?” The sound of the guard’s footsteps were getting louder and louder. 

“Jump.”

The young woman’s eyes looked up at the large glass window that overlooked the city. Was he serious? Yeah, Mac would never joke about her safety. He was her brother and as much as they teased each other it had always been them. Just the two of them looking out for each other. 

Dixie would and had on many occasions, put her life in her brother’s hands. 

So taking a deep breath Dixie bit her lip balling her hands into fists “You’ll catch me right?” 

“Of course” 

“Good because I hate heights!” 

Also glass, Dixie hated glass. Shielding her face she prayed her new leggings wouldn’t get ruined. It was hard to make this white girl’s ass look that good. Looking up as she plummeted down the 50 floors she saw one of her brother’s drones flying next to her. Grabbing it she let out a squeak as it dipped with her weight her stomach dropping much lower than her body did. Shouldn’t have had that doughnut this morning. 

While the drone steadied itself Dixie wasn’t able to get her heart back to a normal rate until her feet were firmly planted on the ground. Finding her motorcycle where she had left it she quickly took off toward their meeting place several blocks away. 

“Dixie!” Mac took a step out from the dark ally throwing the last of his equipment into the white van ready to leave. Ready to ditch this city now that their work was done. Move on to the next job. The next mission.

“Dixie”

The siblings paused looking at each other confused when they heard it again. “Dixie North.” a blue light slowly started to glow in the alleyway as a shape appeared. 

Dr Strange stood in front of them in all his red flowing cape glory. 

Both siblings froze.

“Is that…” 

“Holy shit…” 

“My name is Dr. Steven Strange. Master of Time. I have come to deliver a message to you Dixie North”

Next to her  Mac stiffed his hand going toward the large band around his wrist. Ready to attack if this guy tried anything toward his sister. Not that Dixie thought much would happen if he did. This was one of the great avengers. But hell, they would go down fighting, 

Like they always did. 

“Things have happened to disrupt our timeline. The delicate balance has been fractured so certain events must now happen much sooner.”  the tall man explained taking a slow breath before continuing, “You must have your child sooner to keep the universe in balance.” 

Shock.

That was all that came across her. “I’m sorry, my what now?” 

“You’re child, you and Steve Rogers need to have your child now.” 

“Is there something you’re not telling me?” Mac mumbled glancing at his sister who looked just -if not more- shocked than he was. Her face pail, feeling slightly… sick, confused, unsure. Many things really. 

“I’m sorry I need to…”  

“You and Steve Rogers are designed to have a savior but… somehow time has been tampered with and this child must be born sooner.” 

“You mean Dix and Captain America…” Mac’s voice slowly faded behind his sister. Everyone knew Steve Rogers the man who had saved them from Thanos. The man who had probably been the leader to bring back half of all living creatures only a few months ago. 

Well, shit shit shittery shit. 

This wasn’t going to be awkward at all. 

“Go to the Avengers, I have already told them.” Strange said nodding, “The fate of the universe is hanging on your shoulders.” then he disappeared in a cloud of green smoke. 

Both of the North siblings stood there unsure how to process this information. 

“Ok Sara Conners,” Mac said finally breaking the awkward silence. As always, just knowing what to say in situations like this to make his sister feel better. 

“Ok but wait,” Dixie said turning to her brother holding her finger up for him to wait a moment, “that dude was from further… if we go by terminator rules than I would be fucking him.”

“Maybe we should go back and asked Mcfly to verify?.” Mac smiled already seeing his sister relaxing. How else can you combat a stressful situation but with comedy?  

“Oh my gosh, I was thinking the same thing” Dixie giggled wagging her fingers at her brother who mimicked her action. She already was starting to feel better. After all, matter what happened at least she had Mac at her side. 

Like always.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

“I can’t go with you.”

“What!?! Why the hell not?!” Dixie let out a high pitched whine that would have dogs for miles barking as she sat on her bright blue suitcase. One of many… after all she WAS about to meet her future baby daddy and who knew what kind of outfit that would require. 

“Because Tony invited you and not me.”

Dixie stuck out her tongue in pure annoyance. “He can shove his invite up his…”

“I’m about 70% sure he can still hear you,” Mac mumbled nodding toward the flying drone that had come to send them - well Dixie - an invite to come to join the avengers. He had floated there on a hologram, like Princess Leia.

“Dixie you’re our only hope.” 

Ok, he didn’t actually say that but… it would have been cooler if he had. Missed opportunity. Honestly, Dixie felt like there was going to be a lot of these going forward. Good thing she was here to help provide all their Scifi references for them

This whole thing already felt like a drag. 

“Promise I’ll only be a phone call away.” Mac mumbled, “And fuck the future. If this get’s to be too much just let me know and we can run away to Mexico.”

“Only if you promise we can go back to the beach after the Latveria embassy heist.”

“I promise,” he said holding up his pinky for her to take.  

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

“Children change your life,” Tony said lamely (for the first time in his life not knowing what to say) at Steve who stood in the doorway of the large avengers compound waiting for this future to come up. She should be here any moment.  

Dixie North. 

Next to him, Bucky snickered lightly. Of all the Avengers, Bucky had been the only one who had been reserving judgment. He was also the only one who knew about Steve going back to Peggy. About his plan to go back to the life he had wanted. 

Bucky was the only one who knew about Steve coming back heartbroken. 

The black car pulled up the gravel driveway stopping at the door where the Avengers stood waiting for their new roommate. 

The young woman stepped out of the car saying something to the driver who laughed. A large smile on sweet round her face. Cheeks bright from smiling. At least she was happy. Steve mused. He, on the other hand, felt like he was being marched to his death. 

“Well at least she’s cute” Sam mumbled loud enough for Steve to hear. The comment earned Sam a quick elbow to the ribs by Bucky. 

Turning from the car the woman, Dixie paused taking in everyone for a moment giving a slight wave. For a moment Steve thought he saw her shoulder’s tense as she focused on him. But it was gone so quickly he wasn’t sure. 

She must be as nervous as he was. He reminded himself. She was in this just as much as he was. 

Walking toward them she smiled holding her hand out for Steve to shake. As he took it he could help but notice how much smaller it was than his large ones. But even so, she took his strong grip matching his grip with one of her own. Her pretty eye meeting his and he felt his stomach drop as if he was leaping out of an airplane without a parachute. 

“Hey I’m Dixie and I guess I’m your future baby Mama.” 

-GET TAGGED!- 

Forever tag:  @the-shadow-of-atlantis-links​​ @coffee-randomness​​ @0hmydeku @xx3fsxx @daisyboobear​​  @jason-redhood​ @hello-i-lovespiderman-blr  @pinkwitch21 @tomhncharliep  @cdwmtjb8

Story Tag: @Evansgirl7

[murasaki-murasame]

Thoughts on Fruits Basket 2019 2nd Season Ep10: “Who . . . Are You?”

With this, we’ve more or less hit the halfway mark of the story, with the stage being set for the direction of everything to come in the second half, and this episode was appropriately dramatic and intense to go with that.

Thoughts under the cut.

To start with, this episode adapted chapters 64 and 65 pretty much 1:1, since it’s all that was left for the beach arc, but surprisingly the next episode sounds like it’ll include chapter 68, so they’re jumping forward a little. From what I’ve heard, I think they might be adapting chapters 67 and 68 together, and moving 66 to afterward, which I think makes a lot of sense. Chapter 67 specifically is pretty much a direct follow-up to the beach arc, and chapter 66 is a bit of a swerve into comedy territory and character introductions which would probably disrupt the flow of things a bit too much.

I’m also still curious to see when they plan on getting around to adapting the Hatori/Mayu chapters. At this point I think they’re probably going to get adapted right before the student teacher conference, since a lot of that stuff wouldn’t really make sense without that context. I think that part happens around chapter 71 or so in the manga, so the Hatori/Mayu stuff might get adapted pretty soon in that case.

Anyway, as for this episode itself, it was adapted pretty much perfectly. I don’t think anything was cut or added or changed from the manga, and the cinematography, music, and colour design made everything hit really hard.

One way or another this is the big part in the story that all the anime-only fans have been told for ages would answer their big questions about why everyone follows Akito, and I wonder exactly how all the anime-only fans think about it now. I think the explanation of Akito being ‘the God of the zodiac’ is probably enough to satisfy most people, but it’s still a pretty vague and nebulous sort of label, and there’s still mysteries left hanging about the nature of the curse as a whole.

I still think that, if we’re just talking about the question of ‘why does everyone do what Akito says?’, this doesn’t even really change much of anything, since it’s always been pretty obvious that Akito’s mostly just an abuser at the end of the day, and her being the zodiac God is mostly just a fancy way of putting it. But if it makes people feel less frustrated by the writing, then that’s cool.

I must have forgotten this specific part from the manga, but I really liked the bit with Tohru hinting at the fact that Akito is also bound by the curse, since that’s a pretty major part of the long-term story. I’m kinda surprised they hint at it this early in the story, but honestly I think most anime-only fans probably didn’t notice that line with everything else that was going on, lol.

The scene with her and Shigure also set up all sorts of hints for later in the story in it’s own way, and after double checking I can confirm that the short flashback to Shigure giving her a flower was actually anime-original. I dunno how many people will pick up on it this early, but there’s already lots of hints to how frustrated and isolated Akito is in her own position in the family.

[Also I’ve harped on about this before but seeing this be another example of anime-only fans being like ‘wow Akito keeps having these romantically charged scenes with other dudes. Is he actually a guy???’ has me screaming into my pillow, lmao. I’d love to tell these people that they shouldn’t assume things like that, but I can’t really say that when they’re, y’know . . . . entirely correct in their assumptions]

And as yet another hint at future developments, we also get another reference to Ren, and an even more blunt look into just how messy that whole situation is, and how much it messes with Akito.

Akito also pretty much spells out her entire motivation and goal to Tohru, about how she wants everyone to stay with her forever in a static and unchanging bond until they all die, which is an idea that’s gonna get explored and delved into as time goes on. The whole struggle between wanting everything to stay in a comfortable stasis versus making efforts to change yourself and cut yourself away from unhealthy ties is pretty much one of the core conflicts in the story, and I think it’s a big part of why Tohru ends up being so sympathetic to Akito. And to be honest I also can’t really help but sympathize with Akito in this respect, even if basically all of her actions are obviously wrong.

To go along with how this is the big turning point of the whole story, Tohru now knows pretty much everything the audience knows about the curse, and about Kyo’s imminent confinement, and it’s pushed her to start actively wanting to break the curse. This episode in general really makes it clear why she’s such a necessary force in the story, and why only someone who exists outside of the Soma family structure can actually make meaningful change to the system. Since pretty much all the zodiac members are understandably complacent and resigned to their fates, and even someone like Rin is caught up in the mindset of not wanting ‘outsiders’ to get involved in the curse. Even Shigure is only able to put his own plans into place by bringing an outside into the system.

In general the beach arc as a whole is filled with examples showing how much everyone is held back by the curse, but it’s worth noting that in this episode we get to see Momiji take a stand against Akito in an attempt to protect Tohru. And we also see him get punched in the face for it, just to really hammer in why it’s so hard for anyone to do anything like that in the first place.

So anyway that’s pretty much everything I have to say. This was a really great way to more or less wrap up the first half of the story and set up the second half. Now I’m curious to see how the next couple of episodes go, since it looks like they’re probably gonna shuffle things around a bit, which will hopefully make the pacing better.

[retro-aesthe]

Sidelines (Part 4)

(Hi! I’ve had a bit of writer’s block... but here it is. Tho it’s kinda more like a filler chapter... kind’a long... and btw, i plan for this story to only have 5 parts so... one more to go! anywayyyyyyy there we go. Someone requested to be tagged, I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TUMBLR WORKS because before, I literally just reblog and favorite and that’s it. But I’ll try... I’m tryna do my best. AND thank you, all of you out there for the feedback my works had. it was surreal!!! okay enuf now. enjoyyy)

[ @fromthediariesofaoncer hi! ... and... um why can’t I tag you @yanginginthere ? hope u see this]

Alex Danvers x fem!reader

It hurt—the bright light behind your eyelids. It stung, and you wanted to groan so bad because of the bothering pain, but you ended up coughing softly because of the dryness of your throat. You moaned a little at the roughness the smallest cough you’ve ever heard cause you. Then you suddenly realized you’ve been hearing quietness, except for the constant beep and hum of machines.

“Y/n…?” You heard a hesitant voice ask. The immediate response your body made was to open your eyes, to look at the voice’s source. It was a dumb idea, considering how the bright light you were first complaining about surely have blinded you the moment you opened your eyes.

“… blind…” you managed to say. You heard footsteps overpowering the constant hums you’ve been hearing before. Then, there were what seem to be curtains moving—the distinct sound of metal sliding over metal. The light dimmed marginally, but it was significantly bearable compared before.

“Y/n…?” You heard the voice ask once again. You realized you were slowly succumbing to sleep’s enticement. You opened your eyes and Alex Danvers’s face came into view.

It was a horrifying moment of déjà vu, and suddenly you gasped as onslaught of memories attacked you. The earthquake. The woman… bleeding. You, bleeding.

“Lexie!” It was supposedly an exclamation, but you winced when your voice broke at the middle due to the sandpaper currently residing in your throat. You felt your best friend’s arm slightly push you up from your back, and the rim of a cold glass was gently placed on your lower lip.

“Take a sip,” Lexie whispered softly. It was then you noticed that she was the only one in the room aside from you. You cautiously took a sip of the warm water, then thanked god when it soothed the dryness of your throat.

“Lexie, I’m…” you trailed off when you settled back against the comfort of the bed. Your hand was touching the side of your head you remembered bleeding. You fingertips were met by a rough texture which your brain only classified as gauze. You suddenly became aware of everything around you: the gauze, the wires attached to you, the sound of machines, the room—you were in a hospital.

“Bleeding? Yeah, I’m aware. You’ve said that a thousand times already.” Lexie offered a small smile, the worry and concern evident in her eyes.

“What?” you dumbly asked. You were still trying to grasp everything—trying to grasp how the last thing you remembered was… telling Lexie you were bleeding, but it was in a cramped up room.

“You’ve woken up a couple of times in the past 36 hours… and telling me you’re bleeding was always the first thing you keep saying.” You followed Lexie with your eyes as she sat down on the chair beside your bed. You felt her warm hand gently hold yours, making your heartbeat faster… which only became worse when you heard how your heartbeat reflected on the machines. You swore you had an unhealthy red tint form on your cheeks. You turned your head away from your best friend as you’re definitely sure she didn’t miss the machine’s indication of your response to her touch. She went to medical school, for crying out loud!

Your face got even warmer when the hand holding yours squeezed lightly.

“The doctor said you’re expected to actually wake up today. Thank god you chose not to be dramatic for once,” Lexie softly said, making you smile a little. Then, you frowned.

“How long was I out?” you asked, finally registering the fact that you missed a couple of hours because you were unconscious.

“Two days.”

There was silence. Then, “You feel alright?” Lexie asked. You nodded your head slightly, cautious that you might get dizzy of any exaggerated movements. You were looking at her face intently, noting how new stress lines formed, and how Lexie could definitely use a few hours with her bed.

“I’m gonna alert them you’re awake now, okay?” You saw in your peripheral vision that she pressed a button. Silence once again filled the room.

When the doctor and nurses came in the room, the machines were checked and you were asked a few routine questions.

All you can think about the entire time was Lexie not letting go of your hand. It was warm, and though a small gesture, it was the best comfort you’ve ever had in your life.

▫️▫️▫️

“I’m gonna call the others…”

You hate how there was only silence in the room. For the past 10 minutes or so, you and Lexie just held hands, but did not talk about anything at all.

“Wait, Lexie,” you finally managed to say. She immediately looked into your eyes, searching for pain or any indicator that you’re anything besides fine. “Don’t you think we should… talk...? Whatever this is... you know, what’s happening.” You grew frustrated over the fact that you desperately wanted to point out the notable distance between you and your best friend, but can’t because you’re scared. You wanted for Lexie to get the hint, to understand what you were talking about without actually hearing it from you.

“I don’t want to stress you even more, Y/n. You were in surgery three days ago and you didn’t completely wake up for two days,” Lexie said. Your eyes widened at the word “surgery.” Of course, Y/n, your head practically faucet-dripped blood, why in the world wouldn’t you be in surgery?

The silence continued. Your heart aches as the obvious distance between you and Lexie seems to be slowly eating whatever relationship you had with her before. There was hollowness in Lexie’s voice which made you uncomfortable. You hate how everything seems to be changing and you can’t even keep up with its fast phase.

“I miss you,” you said in a low voice, looking at Lexie with pleading eyes. You saw how her posture suddenly went stiff. God damn it…

“You avoided me. For a week.” There was a slight edge in her tone. You winced, because frustrated Lexie is the worst Lexie. She took a deep breath, seemingly trying to calm herself at the sudden rouse of her frustration. You fearfully watched her. You know she wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, but when Lexie’s frustrated, she tends to let everything out, without filter, without breaks.

“You made me leave your apartment, Y/n. I tried to call you hundreds of times—but they all went straight to voicemail. Then I go to your apartment, and you weren’t there, and if it weren’t for Mrs. Lee, I wouldn’t have known that you just left your apartment… or—or something else. I just knew you made it a point to not be there when I could more likely visit you, since you know my schedule so well.

“Then… then next thing I know, you spread your arms wide open in the middle of danger. I had no idea where you were and—fuck—thank god Maggie found you. I had to fucking hear it from Kara that you were injured! You kept avoiding me, and I had no idea where you were and—what if, what if by any chance Maggie wasn’t there and nobody saw you and that woman—god, do you even have a clue how fucking terrified I was, huh, Y/n?”

You know well enough to not disrupt Lexie’s rants whenever she’s on one. You just watched as tears started to form on her eyes, when one fell down. It physically hurts you watching her chin tremble as she tried so hard to keep herself from crying. The grip on your hand became tighter, as if it was Lexie’s lifeline.

“You fell on the ground and I caught you and your head was bleeding so much. There was so much blood, Y/n. Much more than the woman under that damned car. Do you know how fucking scared I was when you wouldn’t wake up? The ambulance came and you still didn’t. Then we were in the ambulance and you did and all you told me was that you’re bleeding. God, Y/n, I was so fucking scared. I thought I was going to lose you… there was… there was so much blood and—and—“

A few tears leaked from your eyes as Lexie let go of your hand and curled down as sobs racked her form. You would have reached out, had it been possible for you to get up without help. You watched her helplessly, willing her with your eyes to look at you and hug you and lie down with you and just… lean on you.

“I’m so sorry, Lexie…” you said quietly, but your words were drowned out by her gasps and sniffs. After a minute or so, she straightened up and wiped her tears away. Tears were still streaming down her face but she looked at you with so much sorrow in her eyes.

Her left hand went on holding your free hand while her right hand reached out to wipe the few tears that escaped your eyes. The soft gesture made a few tears flow even more and you keep muttering “I’m sorry” to her. She was shaking her head then squeezed your hand tighter.

“I hate that I can’t blame anyone for what happened to you,” she admitted, her eyes training towards your bandaged head.

“I can’t lose you, Y/n,” she whispered, her voice coming out a plea. You offered a small smile to her, reveling in the comfort of her hand cradling your cheek.

“You won’t,” you said softly. The one week of avoiding Lexie gave you enough time to adjust to the situation. It was enough to prepare you for Maggie’s constant presence in your life, and the constant pain it will bring. The one week was enough to convince yourself to go back to what was before, to just ignore the kiss that happened and to not hope it will ever happen again.

Lexie will only just be your best friend.

▫️▫️▫️

The topic resurfaced on the third day after waking up. The whole gang was there, since it was Kara’s Earth birthday and she doesn’t want you to miss out on the celebration.

Cupcakes were everywhere, but they don’t beat Lexie’s gift to Kara—a mountain of potstickers. Kara was with you when Lexie arrived, carrying the huge gift she had. You taught Kara was going to solar flare with the excitement flowing from her every pore. Lexie had to physically restrain her from inhaling all of the potstickers in one sitting.

Eliza, J’onn, Winn, James, and Lena (since she definitely knows her girlfriend’s alter-ego) all came 30 minutes after Lexie. They were all creating noise, but you preferred the overlapping words and occasional loud laughter (definitely not Kara’s) over the reruns of Friends (though, you’ll forever love the show), documentaries, and constant hum of machines.

You still couldn’t sit up straight since the gash you had on your left torso was still healing. The bed was angled up slightly, so it could support you as you slightly sat up. Lexie was sitting on the chair beside you. You’ve seen more of her in the past three days than you had in the past three months. She was constantly on your side. Apparently, she chose to sow her invested day-offs just so she could take care of you. After a couple times of urging her to go to J’onn and request to go back to work, she managed to shut you up and just be appreciative of the gesture.

You watched Lexie laugh at something Winn said. She had three potstickers on her plate, and a slice of Eliza’s famous pie.

“So… um, isn’t Maggie part of the I-know-Kara-is-Supergirl squad? Where is she?” you asked lightly. You noticed how Lexie suddenly stopped smiling. You looked at the others. The whole room paused, all looking back at you. Their grave expressions made you think the worst.

“Oh my god,” you said, horrified. You looked at Lexie. “Was she… Is she hurt?” Lexie shook her head. Cold spread over your body. “Dead?!” You looked at the others in horror.

“God, no!” Lexie exclaimed. You looked at her for explanation. Well, what were they expecting? You weren’t a psychic like J’onn.

“Well then what?” you asked, frustrated.

“She broke up with me.” There was an awkward silence that settled in the room. You couldn’t help but notice how Lexie was staring intently at you, and there was just a hint of sadness in her face.

You know you were fucked up when hope practically burst right out of you.

[niall-is-my-dream]

You & Me - Part Two

2645 words

August 2017

Getting up at 6am was definitely not a perk of the job. When your alarm rang, you snoozed it twice before finally pulling yourself out of bed and taking a shower.

Even though it was a warm August morning, you dressed yourself in black skinny jeans and a fitted black t-shirt. No room for glamour when you're lugging equipment around. 

You quickly made yourself a coffee to go in your travel mug before leaving a note for Bex reminding her to get milk on her way home tonight. Bex had a comfortable 9-5 job. You however, had no clue when you would be back and didn't fancy waking up to no milk tomorrow. 

Arriving at the studio for rehearsals you saw your boss Martin getting out of his car.

"Morning Martin."

"Morning Cal, enjoy your time off?"

"I did thank you, went to Portugal with Bex. How about you?"

"Joan had me decorating the lounge!"

You laughed at his facial expression, clearly he had been hoping to relax a bit before the tour when it would all get crazy.

"Don't worry Martin, we will go slowly for you today!" You replied patting his back.

Walking into the studio, you saw all the equipment had been loaded into the far corner. Martin, yourself and the team had done a few set ups already so got to work making sure everything was in place before Niall and the band arrived.

John, one of the guitarists, was first to arrive, greeting everyone with a hand shake or hug and placing a massive box of pastries on the table.

 "Gotta keep the workers happy!" He smiled and he gave you a hug.

 "Thanks Bird!"

 The rest of the lads arrived and you knew when Tara did that Niall wasn't too far behind. He was dressed casual like everyone else, dark jeans and a t-shirt, his soft brown hair messy and sticking up.

He shook hands with all the team, hugging you like he hadn't seen you in ages when in reality you saw him just a few days ago. You attempted to sort out his hair as you moved away from his embrace. 

 "Honestly Niall, your hair has a mind of its own."

 He chuckled at your words and was secretly enjoying feeling your fingers running through them. You weren't to know that was one of his favourite things. He loves nothing more than a woman running their fingers through his hair.

 "I know, I'm going to get it cut this week in preparation for being away so long."

 "Yeah you need to, Sienree won't be pleased with this mess!"

 "Hey, it's not that bad!"

 "Yeah it is!"

 "Bully!"

 "Whatever!"

 "Cal, you really need to get some better come back than 'whatever'!"

 "Why? It worked didn't it?!" You replied as you walked away to carry on setting up his guitars. He watched you walk away, looking at your bum for longer than appropriate. Glancing around he noticed that no one has seen what he'd done.

You'd heard some of his album already from when you'd been doing some events in the U.S. this spring/summer. However this would be the first time that you'd heard them all.

Putting your banter aside, you sat down with him, tuning each guitar and working out what order you were going to need to get each instrument ready for, having now received the set list. 

The next couple of days were spent rehearsing, assisting Niall in any way that he needed. The album sounded amazing and you could see that he had worked hard on it. The true magnitude of the tour was laid out in front of you in one morning meeting. The full plan for travelling with him, the band, the whole background team and the equipment had been sorted down to the final detail. Martin had asked you to double check some details for him but there was something you were unsure about with one of Nialls guitars.

Most of the team had dispersed for lunch, heading out or sitting in the food area, Niall was nowhere to be seen. Thinking that he was probably still in the lounge answering his emails you made your way down the hall. Not bothering to knock you opened the door to find Niall standing with his hands on his hips with a very pissed off looking Saskia.

"Shit, sorry Ni! I didn't realise you had company." You mumbled, completely shocked to see Saskia stood there.

"Is it because of her?!" Saskia almost screamed at him.

"For fuck sake Saskia. No it isn't!"

Because of me? Ok, you definitely needed to make a quick exit.

"I'll catch up with you later Ni." You said and retreated quickly, closing the door behind you.

You hurried down the hall to the main rehearsal area, and began sorting through some paperwork. Doing anything to try and keep yourself busy and hidden away. It was then that you found out the answer to your question, you hadn't even needed to go ask Niall the question. You just hadn't looked at the paperwork correctly. If you'd just looked properly you wouldn't have interrupted him in that totally embarrassing situation. You were completely mortified that you'd walked in on him clearly arguing with Saskia. What was she even doing here? You let out a massive sigh as you leaned against the wall, closing your eyes and trying to forget the look on her face.

"Hey." You heard him say, opening your eyes to find him looking sheepish.

"Ni, I'm so sorry, I should've knocked. I had no idea she was here."

"Cal, its fine. I'm sorry that once again she was rude to you."

 "It's honestly fine."

"Its not, and I told her so."

You nodded nervously, biting down on your lower lip, your eyes looking anywhere but at him. But then you heard him sigh in a sad and exhausted way.

"Are you ok?" You ask him, your eyes meeting his and seeing the sadness and frustration behind them.

"Yeah I suppose." He replied, it being clear he wasnt. You'd spent a lot of time with him the last ten months and knew when he was lying or bending the truth.

"Well if you need someone to talk to, I'm always here." You said sincerely.

It clearly hadn't been a good conversation that you'd walked in on.

"Thanks, I appreciate it." He replied as you turned towards the paperwork.

"Um so anyway, I was just going to ask you about your guitar choice for You and Me but I found my answer when I went back over the paperwork again."

"Ah ok, so it's sorted?" He asked.

"Yeah it is. I'm sorry I should have been more thorough when I looked the first time."

"Doesn't matter."

God you were so embarrassed by what you'd walked in on and Niall did not seem ok. There was a lingering tension in the air, so you began unnecessarily stacking up your paperwork.

"Are you busy tonight?" he asked you nervously.

"Apart from my usual Friday night fun of browsing Netflix and eating my weight in ice cream - nothing!" You said, turning around to face him.

"Well Willie is out with Bex tonight so do you fancy coming over and browsing my Netflix with me?"

You burst out laughing, a massive smile appearing on both your lips as you realised how that had sounded. The tension suddenly eased and you were back to your usual banter.

"Ok, that sounded like a really bad chat up line! I'm sorry! What I meant is, I could really use a friend to talk to if you're free and want to hang out at mine tonight?"

"Yeah sure, as long as we aren't here too late tonight, that should be ok." 

"I'll make sure we leave at a decent time tonight, maybe grab some food and go straight to mine?"

"Sounds good. Bex took the car this morning so is it ok if I ride with you?"

"Yes of course, I presumed you would. I saw your car wasn't in the car park this morning."

"Bex wanted to get home from work quickly today so she could prepare for her date!"

"So pleased we set those two up!"

"Me to!"

Everyone slowly made their way back to the main rehearsal area after lunch. They were rehearsing a song called You & Me when Tara approached you as you stood by Nialls guitars.

"So....." She started in a low voice so no one could hear her.

"So what?" You replied, confused as to what she might be referring to.

"Heard you had a run in with Saskia earlier."

"Oh god, yes. Was so awkward, I didn't knock and just walked in on them. Saskia was not happy."

"I've walked in on worse things with Niall!" She replied laughing.

"I don't want to know!" You said waving your hand and laughing to indicate you didn't want to hear the story.

She laughed to.

"Saskia doesnt like me either. Thinks every female who works with Niall is a threat." Tara whispered.

"Really?! She does know she's a Victoria Secret model doesn't she?!"

"Yes, but a very insecure one. Might help if she actually ate and drank regularly, think it effects her personality. She's so tired and overworked from her fitness regime too. It just makes her grumpy and rude."

You nodded in agreement, knowing how you feel when you're hungry or tired from the gym.

"Look, don't say I said anything to Niall, although I see him looking so I guess he knows what we are probably discussing."

"I won't say anything, sad really though isn't it? I mean he's pictured with females all the time in the press and gets hounded about it and even his own girlfriend hassles him about it."

"She was never his girlfriend, just someone he hangs out with, dates, looks good for both of them. The last few months though he's just not been happy when he's been with her."

"She seems like hard work."

"Yes she is. Look, I know you two are hanging out later so I thought I'd just give you the heads up."

"He said he needed a friend." You replied, hoping she understood that was what it was.

"Don't need to explain to me, it's obvious you both get on well. He trusts you."

You nodded in agreement and left it at that.

6pm arrived and Niall called time on rehearsal. Even though the distraction of Saskia had disrupted it for a while, you'd actually achieved loads today.

Once you were sorted, you checked with Martin if you needed to do anything else before heading out with Niall. A few of the team looked but no one said anything, they knew you were just friends.

Sliding into Niall's Audi, you fastened your seatbelt while he fiddled with the music. The intro of Gavin James' song 'coming home' came flowing out of the speakers.

"I cannot wait to meet him on tour." You said excitedly.

"You like him do you?!"

"Absolutely love him!"

You both hummed away to the music, Niall tapping his hands on the wheel as you made your way across the city. You'd placed an order at Nialls local Chinese takeout place that wasn't far from his, just before you left.

"I'll go grab the food." He said as he pulled up outside the restaurant. 

"Ok, sure."

He got out the car but ducked his head back in. "Shall I get us some wine from the shop next door to?"

"I can do that." You replied undoing your seat belt.

"Its fine, I'll go. What do you prefer?"

"Um white please."

"Cool, won't be long." He said as he closed the car door.

You knew it was best to stay in the car. Being spotted buying takeout and wine with Niall wouldn't be the best idea.

He returned ten minutes later with both. Your stomach was rumbling as he drove the short distance to his. The smell of the food was delicious.

Walking into Niall's apartment he began walking around and switching on some lights.

"Wow! This apartment is gorgeous!" You blurted out. "Very manly!"

"Manly?!"

"Yeah, you know masculine colours. You can tell guys live here!"

"I'm not sure if that's a compliment or not!" He laughed, as he got out some plates.

He grabbed some glasses and poured you some wine, before placing the bottle and another one into the fridge.

"Take a seat." He said gesturing towards his dining table. He grabbed his phone and put Gavin James back on so that is sounded throughout apartment on the sound system.

Opening all the boxes of food, you began sharing it amongst you both. "So rehearsals are going well." You said, hoping to start a light conversation with him. You weren't sure if he was planning on opening up to you about Saskia but you hoped he felt he could.

"Yeah they are. It's exciting to see my songs being sung by the lads. Bit nervous about Dublin though. First date and everything."

"Are your family coming down?"

"Yep, loads of them!"

"You'll be fine! Stop worrying!"

You continued to eat and drink your wine, chatting easily about tour and then what you thought Willie and Bex were getting up to.

"You know I am really sorry about Saskia today." He said, the wine clearly loosening him up.

"Ni, honestly I get it."

"The whole thing with her is just a mess." He continued.

"You want to talk about it? I mean its ok if you dont. But I'll listen if you need me to."

"If I'm honest I'm not really sure what I was doing with her. Just one bad dating experience after another."

"Babe, we've all been there!" You laughed trying to lighten the mood.

"What was it that you didn't like about her?"  He asked you.

"Um.......doesn't matter what I thought of her Ni." You replied shocked that he would ask you outright.

"It matters to me. And I know you'll give me an honest answer."

He stared at you for a few seconds as you finished your food and took a long sip of your wine 

"Well......um..... just a clash of personalities I suppose. I got the impression she didn't like me and kind of looked down at me. It seemed like she thought she was better than me because she was beautiful, skinny and famous and I'm not. I don't actually want to be famous, I'm quite happy being in the background looking after you."

He nodded. "I like that you look after me, you always have my best interest at heart."

"That's my job as your guitar tech and your friend."

He nodded again, clearly taking in everything you had said.

"I know you've got more to say Cal. I can tell, I know you well enough to know when you're holding back." He said, leaning back in his chair with his drink in his hand.

You smiled and shook your head.

"No-one else been honest with you then?!"

"Not really! They tell me what they think I want to hear. The only one who's honest is Willie and he has a theory about everything."

"What theory is that then?!" You asked him, intrigued by what Willie thought of the Saskia situation.

"Can't tell you that." He replied shaking his head.

"Now I'm super intrigued! Just have to get you drunk and make you confess Willie's wild theory!" You said as you stood up and grabbed the bottle of wine and filled up his glass with a smirk.

Part Three

https://niall-is-my-dream.tumblr.com/post/182573102188/you-me-part-three

[littleredroseonthevalley]

The Embraced

Summary: Amy has gone home with the wrong person, finding herself on a deadly situation. Will someone be able to save her?

Rating: M -  Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16 with non-explicit suggestive adult themes, references to some violence, or coarse language.

Explicit depiction of murder. Mentions of sexual intercourse. Reader discretion is highly advised.

Words: 2241

Notes: A Bloodbound fanfiction. I had this idea with me for a long while, I am a fan of Vampire: The Masquerade, and anyone who has had any contact with the series, should identify the plot as the prologue for Bloodlines.

A.K.A the best 90′s videogame.

Oh, and BTW, this is intended as a one-shot, I’m not sure I can take on any multichaptered fics right now, but if anyone feel inspired to tackle it, feel welcome to write it. I can help beta-ing or something, even.

On with the story.

Amy could swear to the God above, she have never done anything like that before.

She has always been the quiet, cautious type. Staying on her own lane, never taking much risk, rarely going on bar bends Fridays at night, not drinking, least of all doing drugs.

Not going to second locations with handsome strangers. Not having sex with said strangers the night she met them.

There was something about Tristan that was… alluring, too intriguing to ignore, that drew her to him, that made her lower her guard and forget caution for a while, and it was great.

Indulgent people often forget how the smallest of permissible behaviour feels like when you are that repressed. For now, Amy was riding the sweet wave of release and she never wanted to get down.

Finishing washing her mouth after a hot session of love-making and some cuddling, she matted her hair on the places that stuck out from Tristan’s tugging and emerged from the bathroom, wearing nothing else but his shirt.

At the doorstep to the bedroom, she struck a sexy pose, smirking in mirth. “How do you like it?” She asked, in the best impression of a femme fatale she could muster.

Tristan chuckled heartily. “Sexy.”

He was a fine specimen of masculinity, being over 1,80 metres tall and having taut muscles, clear eyes and light hair. He had said he was twenty-two, like her, and was a day trader for a Spanish investment bank.

The young man did not say where he was from, only that he lived in Manhattan, on a studio apartment where he took her for their escapade, but she could notice a tint of accent and foreign manners on his demeanour.

She, then, crossed the distance between the door and the bed, made herself comfortable on his arms and kissed him on the mouth.

“Listen, bella,” He said, nuzzling her neck. “I want to show you something.”

“Stop! It tickles!” She chuckles, unable to control herself. “What do you want to show me?”

“This.”

Then, he bites her neck, hard enough to draw blood. At first, the pain is strong enough that she cannot help but to scream loudly. Soon, however, the hurt ebbs away and is replaced by a sensation of pleasure.

A few minutes into it, and black spots start to form on the edges of her sight. She feels her consciousness slipping away, being taken with a desire to sleep, like if she had not laid her head in days.

Tristan moves his head away and something warm and metallic passes through her lips. A liquid, but not much, not enough for a full gulp.

“Dormís, bella.” She can hear him say, but could not make out what was actually being said. “Cuando vosotros despertáis, empezaréis una nueva vida.”

Amy woke up, breathless. She felt like she could not breathe, and a large intake of air is what signalled her regain of conscience.

It was a strange room, the drawers were drawn, but it did not make the place too dark. She could see perfect shapes, but it was all too colourless, and also very dusty, the flocks dancing in front of her eyes.

Her head was pounding and all her body ached. She also felt very cold, as if she had just fallen on an icy lake, rather stiff and dirty.

“Ah, bella,” A voice came from her left. “You’re awake, and you look fine, too. I am glad.”

She looked from where the voice came and could not recognize at first glance, even if the voice sounded familiar. Staring harder at the face, she could finally place it.

“Tristan!” She exclaims. “What is happening? What did you do to me?”

He looked regretful at her. “I am very sorry, bella, but it was what it had to be done. I couldn’t let you go, you see? So, I had to appeal to extreme methods.”

“What are you even saying?!” Her voice raised and she could feel the rage boiling her blood.

“You were so beautiful, your blood sang to me. I knew I had to make you mine, and yet you didn’t seem to be the least attracted to me when I came to your office.” The man remembers feverishly, as if he was somewhere else. “Hell, when I found you at the bar, you didn’t even remember we had already met.

“I had to do it, I had to compel you, I had to bring you here.” A pause, one which she could hear the sirens outside and people talking on the street. She was starting to freak out. “I had to turn you, so you would have to rely on me.”

“Turn me?” She asked confused. “Turn me into what?”

“Vampire.” Was the response.

Before either of them could say anything else, a banging was heard from the front door.

“It’s them!” He shouts, scared. “How could they know? I was so careful!”

The door was thrown off its hinges, as a few burly men came into the apartment and contained Tristan, who was struggling and shouting. They placed a gag on his mouth and a hood on his head.

Taking him away, they turned to her and repeated the process, but with remarkably ease if compared to her companion. Amy could feel they were strong, and despite fighting to the best of her capacity, it was to no use.

Soon after, with none the wiser, they were taken away into the dark and silence of the night.

Amy was still hooded and incapable of speaking due to the gag they tied tightly on her mouth. She was set on a kneeling position, around half an hour earlier, but oddly, she did not feel any pain or tiredness.

What she did feel, however, was a quenching thirst on the back of her throat, yet, when she thought about a nice, cold glass of water, her stomach made a sick turn, as if it was unnatural and disgusting.

Her mind came back again and again to Tristan’s statement, that he had turned her into a vampire, and it just did not make sense. There was no such thing as immortal, bloodsucking creatures living in the dark, it was preposterous under any circumstance.

Yet, there was this nagging feeling, something that hinted for something have happened to her that she could not quite identify but it was not anything ordinary.

Well, she considered, perhaps a thought exercise would help. If water made her disgusted, she tried thinking about the gory Japanese horror film her roommate forced her to watch some time ago.

Surely enough, the thought of flowing, spilt blood opened her appetite, and it scared her.

“Ugh. He always does that!” She could her a high-pitched, female voice bemoaning. “It’s way past midnight! He insists in making a big entrance like some stupid diva, and we have to sit on our tails, waiting!”

“I have more to lose with this and you don’t see me complaining, do you?” A male voice this time responds. “Just shut up and wait!”

The female ‘hmph’s and keeps her peace. They did not have to wait much longer, as soon after a man’s voice reverberates through the enclosed space.

“Brethren,” He says. “Excuse my lateness. Are we ready to begin?”

A few unamused ‘aye’s are heard, and then the hood is removed from Amy’s head.

They were on a cave, somewhere underground. That would explain the humidity and the echoes on the voices.

In front of her, there were five people looking emotionlessly at her, amongst them very familiar faces like the famous designer Priya Lacroix, who seemed particularly taken with a terrible case of ennui.

Tristan was kneeling next to her, looking desperate. Usually, she would feel compassion, but she was having a hard time feeling anything at all for him.

She could still hear pacing from behind her, but she feared looking back.

“My apologies for disrupting any business or interfering with prior engagements you may have had.” The voice from behind her speaks once more, and the pacing intensify. “It is unfortunate that the affair that gather us together here this evening is a troubling one.

“We are here because the laws that bind our society, that protects our way of living, have been broken. As the current president, I am within my duties to remind you all of the moratorium we, as a council, have imposed on further turnings, and the punishments assigned to those who do not comply to those orders.”

For the first time that night, Amy sees the face of the man who spoke with such authority, and it baffles her to see it was none other than Adam Vega, senator for the state of New York.

He continues with an unchanging tone of voice. “Due to the problem we have been facing with the Feral, and the ever-growing populace of clanless New York has amounted on all of our ninety-so years of existence, all turnings without the strict, express and unanimous authorization of the council has been deemed illegal, and I understand this particular case has not even been brought to attention of his own clan leader.”

“That is correct.” A tanned-skinned, chubby man on the corner of the cave said, forcefully, as if he wanted to ascertain his blamelessness in it all.

“Yes, thank you, Lester.” Adam says with a hint of annoyance and continues his tirade. “Those two were caught shortly after the termination of this youngling’s turning. It pains me to announce the sentence, as, up to this night, I have considered the accused a loyal and upstanding member of our society. However, as you all know, the punishment for this transgression is death.”

A string of ‘aye’s were heard through the cave.

“Know that I am no more a judicator than I am a servant to the laws that govern us all.” Adam says, and this elicits some very conspicuous eye-rolls from some of the spectators. “Let tonight’s proceedings serve as a reminder to all of our community we must adhere to what has been convened, lest we endanger our blood.”

Adam, then, kneels next to Tristan and says, as if trying to be indiscreetly discreet, “Forgive me.”

After that, the senator stands and, in a swift motion, beheads the other man, who promptly turns into dust.

“Which leads us to the fate of the ill-begotten progeny.” Adam says, turning to face Amy. “Without a sire, and more especially, without a clan, most of our kind are doomed to befell the monstrous hunger that condemn us all, to the point that all reason is consumed, leaving only a shadow of their former self, the personification of hunger.” Pause for dramatic effect. “A feral.”

“For that reason, upon great consideration, I have decided to spare her own suffering and especially those of her countless potential victims by executing her tonight.” The politician said, and seemed to motion for carrying out the sentence, when a voice contains him.

“Wait!” It said. “There is another way.”

Adam stares down at the man arguing. “What do you propose, Adrian? That we let her free? Without a clan, she will certainly become a feral.”

“No, of course not.” The man, Adrian, counters, seemed miffed with the mere suggestion. “However, it is to my knowledge some of us have vacancies on their clans. If she has a mark, if she is part of a clan, there is no need to execute her.”

“Perhaps, but you are with a full clan. You cannot be the one to take her in.” Adam argues. “But very well, this youngling is up for adoption. I cannot be the one to take responsibility, either, I also have a full clan, nor does the Baron.

“Lester!” The man calls. “You seem to have just gained an opening, and this girl is of your bloodline. Would you like to take her in?”

The brows of the fat man furrowed in distaste. “Of course not. You have just destroyed one of my most useful underlings. I will not replace him with some girl off the streets!”

“Very well.” Adam agreed. “Priya?”

The designer approached her, circling her and looking at her appraisingly, just like one would do to a horse. Finally, she decided, “Not cute enough.”

“We seem to have ran out of clans, Adrian.” Adam announces, with a sense of sadism. “If no one has any further objections, I now sentence this youngling to…”

Before he could deliver, he was interrupted once again, this time by a regal woman, sitting next to Adrian.

“I will take her.” She said.

“Kamilah?” He asks, confused and in awe. “You wish for this girl?”

“Yes, I have an opening. This should save me the bureaucracy of looking for a candidate and requesting permission.” She responded, unaffected.

It was terrifying, to have your life and death decided by people you do not know in front of you and not being able to weigh in.

Her whole life seemed to flash before her eyes, while the senator considered Kamilah’s position.

“Very well.” He concludes. “I will allow for you to brand her. All in favour?”

Priya, Adrian and Kamilah said ‘aye’, against ‘nay’s from Lester and an odd, grouch man she concludes to be the Baron.

“Four versus two, the motion passes.” Adam proclaims, helping Amy up and untying her. “Welcome to your new existence, youngling. You got very lucky.”

[jigensass]

Dr Strange Punk Rave Supreme, Part 3

The night continued on to Stephen's dull amusement. He continued to drink, always on the brink of slurring but was frequently using a handy spell he picked up to speed up his intoxication time to mere minutes between each guest. The names were getting harder and harder to remember. The sorcerer insisted Wong wrote them down somewhere so it wouldn't seem like he was uninterested in them by pulling his phone and typing it in.

"Then I would look uninterested either," Wong assured his partner "Am I ever going to meet any of these people again in the next 10 years?" "Maybe a handful of them, Sorcerer Supremes always assist each other in times of great strife, Stephen."

With that response, Stephen tossed away the notion and continued through the hall to the front bumping into more eager magic users to say hello. There was Wanda the Witch of Chaos, Voodoo, a man from Louisiana who had lost his brother and had his spirit bonded with him, and many other intricate faces that for some reason stuck out, especially a Sorcerer Supreme who used his drawings as means of weaponry and protection, almost like voodoo, but it was not. For with his drawing pad, he made an attractive man with gold veins appear out of thin air and the younger apprentices clapped with delight on this new type of sorcery.  Ironically, the one person he wanted to greet himself Wong yanked him back faster than the Cloak ever could. It was a being with red flowing locks and marble white skin. Upon further inspection out of the prying eye, it was a male who seemed to be of pure perfection with emeralds for irises. Staring again after being pulled away, his companion slapped him on the back of the head.

"We are not here to speak to the demon lords! We respect they exist and that's it!" "But wouldn't that be rude if they didn't meet me? I sense a nice peace treaty between us...~"

Wong rolled his eyes and drug him away, embarrassed he would ever flirt with a demon lord, let alone one of Mephisto's generals who had been selected to come to the ceremony to represent the Hellish Realm. The general was not interested in the slightest of what was going on within earshot behind him because he was in the middle of a discussion with a woman with white hair dawning a purple dress and her apprentice, a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed girl who had fae-like features in her face, about the dwelling, habits, and evolution of dragons throughout history and how it is possible that they evolved just as the dinosaurs did from deep sea creatures to lizards with wings. The white-haired woman was losing interest as the commotion about hitting on the hellish general grew and she saw him being pulled away by....was that a monk from Tibet? Was that the Sorcerer Supreme he was protecting? His getup was exquisite and mysterious for the event unlike everyone else's who was color coding with their realms which were mostly flashy hues. She told her companion to stay put as she snuck off to finally meet the man everyone wanted to see, her apprentice not happy to be left alone with such an odd man who gave her a queer look when she returned a disappointed one at him.

That bodyguard appeared to know everyone who was attending the event and if he knew who she was, she most definitely would not get the chance to introduce herself in a respectful manner. But how to get him away...?

Even after being dragged from his apparently his "polar opposite" as Wong started to describe the man he had attempted to hit on, Stephen was not giving up that easily. He needed a distraction. But how to get him away....?

The fae apprentice was getting restless and the hellish general was not liking this babysitter ordeal that he was swiped into. They gave into the mindfulness of their situation and with a smirk, made a silent pact to help each other out. She made an inanimate construct of herself as he continued to talk to it to keep it company. The construct blinked and smiled reacting to the waves it was picking up from its surroundings.

Meanwhile, the young apprentice snuck through the crowd to get into sight of the Sorcerer Supreme and his guard, noticing her teacher in sight of the two of them as well. Her eyes squinted in suspicion and her ears flicked in annoyance. How dare her teacher leave her alone to see the new Sorcerer Supreme! It was near treason!

The fae transformed into a small fairy and buzzed past in front of the guard to distract him long enough turn his head. In that split second, Clea pulled Stephen by the arm into the sea of the crowd away from Wong.

"And for the last time, Wong, may I remind you I am g-" Before Stephen could finish his last statement, a bit tipsy now so he could filter what he was hearing from Wong's tyrannical mouth, he was distracted by some small bug. It was long enough to be yanked into some people and a young woman with white hair and beaming purple yes was smiling at him.

"H-hi there."

The woman didn't respond and continued to beam.

"Are you mute?" Stephen was starting to become concerned for her that something was wrong when out of the blue she giggled like a schoolgirl.

"No! No! I'm just- I was so worried your bodyguard monk wouldn't let me near you after he yanked you away from the Prince of the Abyss, I'm not a demon don't worry, I'm Faltinian! Well not full, but full enough for him to be worried who is in your presence. See my name is Clea and I'm from the Dark Dimension, Sorcerer Supreme."

"Faltinian, you're not-"

"Stephen! Where are you?!" At that outcry, Clea pulled him away from it.

"Hey! Could you explain something first before dinner?!"

"No! Not here! In private!"

"Stephen! Where are you?!" It wasn't long before Wong's attention was lost. This was going to take some effort. She had to do this for her teacher, but oh was she going to regret it...

"I'm right here." Appearing from behind a nearby pillar was Stephen, Sorcerer Supreme. Well, what appeared to be the Sorcerer Supreme. The fae wasn't sure how long her illusion would last or if this monk could sniff out her magic. He seemed pretty narrow-minded on who to protect. Hopefully, it was long enough for her teacher to get her task accomplished.

Sneaking down the halls with Stephen, confused behind her, Clea ducked into the nearest room which happened to be a closet. It only frustrated him more as to why this magic user had pulled him away from the party. Was she that crazy to meet him?

"Listen, Clea, I appreciate the offer, but I'm not-" "I know! You're not normal! It's okay! All magic users feel weird when coming to these parties. We're all secretly introverts even though we don't act like it." Stephen rolled his eyes at her dodging statement. "Never mind, why are we in this closest? Is it to tell me you're related to Dormammu and you were afraid Wong, the monk back there was going to banish you or something?"

Clea blinked her eyes, stunned that his deduction skills were phenomenal. Could he already read minds? "What else can you do?! Tell me my fortune!"

"Huh-?" he shook his head in frustration, "No! I knew that because you said you were Faltinian! I wasn't born into this lifestyle yesterday! I know all of the gods, goddesses, and beings who are of high tier and very important! Is he...like your father?"

"No, he's my uncle." "Well, we have to make sure your 'uncle' doesn't disrupt this event. Wong told me this has been the biggest gathering of sorcerers since-"

The closet door opened and Wong stood there, unassumed with another Stephen.

"Marie!" Clea grabbed the other Stephen by the ear which slowly transformed into the small fae apprentice from before.

"I did it for you, teacher! And the hellish general smelled funny!" "You MUST respect the Hellish Realms regardless!" Before turning away, Clea smiled at Stephen who did return the smile in regards to her share of knowledge about a possible threat lying in their midst. Being a relative of the Dreaded One, it was possible he could use her as a spy to infiltrate the party. He adjusted his coat and began to walk back down the stairs to the main floor of mingling.

"What was all that about exactly? Why were you pulled away from my sight by a mere...pixie? And that was a Faltinian of all people! She could be-" "She is, which means there's danger afoot, Watson. Not sure how it will come, but it will come when we least expect it."

As the duo came back down the stairs, an announcer shouted from across the room,

"It is now time for the Passing of the Eye! The Vishanti now enter the floor!"

(HOLY COW THIS WAS LONG FOR EXPOSITION GARBAGE AND FILLER!! Thank you to @askmarietheapprentice  for letting me sneak her in for some fae fun! Once again as always, the original idea of this Punk Stephen is given credit to @doobler  as well as gold Tony (which is mentioned) and @your-dark-magic-man-mysterio  I did want to put the next scene into this chapter, but I was very unaware of the length, so next time...we get to meet the Vishanti..and some other peeps?

[paganchristian]

A baby mockingbird singing in this high-pitched cheepy voice to its mother, practicing flying lessons with her and wanting to be fed, which we saw one day at that walk by the sparkling polluted water.  It makes me think, of the cuteness, the brightness, the liveliness, vitality, and yet also vulnerability, of the world, of people, human  nature and culture in general.  But while it makes me think of that it also makes me think the vulnerability is also strength, as they say.  There is at least some strength in vulnerability, safety in numbers, and security in humility, the rock bottom is the place from which we can stably ground ourselves, and see just like the place the water flows is the lowest and the most widespread, covering a flat area or a deepest crevice, water flows so.  To spark thoughts from quotes I’ve read, but don’t try to get right or even eloquent, sure I’m stumbling over words, poorly worded.  Quotes by J. K. Rowling and Lao Tzu, about rock bottom and the low, flowing nature of water, the unconquerable, submissive, malleable, shapeless water, any shape water, morphable, mercurial, infinitely creative, substance-less, spineless, simple,..  essential, vital, life force, well I don’t know, think I carried the quote into too much wordiness, got away from what Lao Tzu said, probably though of course in the Tao Te Ching he says many things and I only recall snippets of this or that and not like I rad it all, mostly too incomprehensible for real life for me, and even more of that bound, cornered feeling of judgment and assumption, morals I can’t apply or make sense of, like most religious things, but I found a book that helped me a lot more which as 365 Tao by Deng Ming-Dao and then I was getting all of his books I could until something I read cast some uncertainty on some things related to all that, or some of his books maybe, but not that I know, and I still like the books.  I’m not here to criticize, argue or debate, just vaguely tell about my own personal journey and what has shaped it, mostly to try to make sense for myself and let associations and memories and new angles spark new possibilities.

The world feels so loud, hyperactive, productive, bright, light, over-positive, over-confident, overly self-assured, narrow-minded, happily so, oftentimes, or reactive, happily reactive, wrapped up in a reactive stance, full of facts, knowledge and prestige, arrogantly so, or full of doubt, credulity, confusion, self-loathingly so, naively, and very much lost, very much easily ready to just follow whoever looks like they might know better or maybe to reject anyone who doesn’t conform into one’s comfortable simplistic ideas (that though, one thinks are complex and complete, not simplistic at all), and all these things wrapped into one, or sometimes just one or the other.  Often rushing, rushing, competing, showing off, look how busy I am, busy with work or busy with play, but busy always, look how active and productive my life is.  Or even not busy with work or play, but busy with the opposites, whatever those are thought of as being,.. so busy studying or learning or thinking or being creative and insightful and intuitive,...  Or, busy being spiritual, busy meditating, or even if it’s said to be lazy being spiritual,... laziness embraced and glorified, look how Zen and without a care I am,.. look at me.  Look how transcendent and blissful or peaceful and content and accepting of the mundane tedium I am,..  But it’s not like I’m above all that busy-ness or busy-being-lazy-ness  I’m prone to some of this, much of this, depending on the time, the events of my life, the conditions, just like the Buddhists say, that conditions make a person who they are and the wheel of life, Samsara keeps us stuck, and we aren’t better or different than others who seem worse, because in the wrong set of conditions we would be the same.  

Anyway, that pretty much covers everything, all those ways of being busy, even being busy as we just “Be” and not busy doing.  Everything has to fit somewhere in there but it’s more about how balanced it all is, how authentic, how real and true and appropriate for the situation given, and that shows if it’s a good kind of busy-ness or a good kind of way to just Be, or not, how much and when.  And it’s in the eyes of the beholder, and we have to subjectively say what feels right, even if another can see we’re harmful but if we don’t see it only we can choose and judge and no one really knows how maybe it’s the best for us even if it’s harmful since we can’t cope and find another way but there are benefits despite the harm, maybe benefits we absolutely need and can’t do without, so yeah...  All of that may be true, but still, I need something far, far more than relativism in my own individual life situation right now.

But still I have to see, how can I try to get a handle on all this,... The world feels so ephemeral, so slight, slippery and slipping through my fingers while my own life I try to hold my loved ones, God, and my family, and shape them so they will have a ledge to stand on and not just be sucked up into the wheel of Samsara and suffering, but not either be fooled into thinking they have transcended it when in fact they’ve just dissociated from reality in a harmful and delusional way, as I think that some of these spiritual things can be, or else entrenched themselves into an arrogant and reactive stance, narrowing their views, beliefs and values to feel better than it all, even if they appear to be very active, engaged in moral causes and practices.  How can I keep this from happening.  Or how on the other hand, can I keep them from slipping into nihilism, relativistic extremes and confusion?  

I see what has helped me after my own long many years and decades even of struggle.  And it’s not like I’m beyond reproach, at all.  It’s not like I’m beyond being disrupted and pulled off my fragile ledge of security and goodness that I’ve found, however very imperfect it is still.  I know it’s still precarious, but it’s something, and how could I wish or hope I might pass it on to those who I love and stabilize it for my own self so I won’t lose it irretrievably or so I hope.  

How when my whole path has been almost like one of extreme contemplative isolation?  That is not even possible for most people nor would they ever choose it if it was, for most people, because I’m not like most people at all.  What do I have to offer that they want to take, that they can use and see in such a way to benefit and not be harmed or led astray?  What like that do I have?  I want to give books, I want to give my own writings and the books of others.  I want to give practices.  But none of those things feel as if the others would even take the time to immerse enough to deeply see the insights in them.  None of them feel like they’d be given much thought at all, necessarily.  Maybe with my daughter, but she’s too young to see how she’ll become when she’s older, and for now she is far from being able to absorb them at her age, of course, almost ten years now.  Though they began training religious people at a very young age in many cultures, traditionally, but does that mean I could without doing harm or would it be just more of the things that are causing me so much grief and confusion in religion, that I’m just now hoping that I’m finding a way out of that tangle of mistaken ideas and correcting it?  So even if I could teach her from a young age, certain things, what things?  Is there a precedent of such new and open minded ways to teach kids from a young age?  Or would I have to forge my own unique open minded set of ideas to teach her? 

I don’t know but I want to teach her enough before she is beyond the age of being very influenced by me any more and she gets so whirled up in the mire of rush and performing for others, competing and impressing and fitting in and consuming the many ideas and pressures and judgments and crises that are presented as fact, and she has to then see what to believe or consider or ignore and there is only so much time to do any of that while you’re growing up, getting closer and closer to adulthood, trying to find your place to live in the world, when you’re grown up, trying to find friends and people you can count on when you are and adult, hoping to find love one day, a lasting love, as many or most are, and so on..  most get so caught up in this whirl of confusion or alternatively, in stagnation, escapism, just coping just to get by, with all the stress, and not really becoming wiser or growing, because it’s all they can do just to deal with the confusion and pain and it’s just scraping by in life, maybe even stuck in such a position for the rest of their whole lives.  But of course, making the best of it they can, putting on a happy face and being brave because why complain if we’re all in the same chaotic sea, in the same or similarly insufficient rafts, life boats, why complain if this is all life seems to be?  And so it felt for me for decades, except my particular lifeboat felt a little or a lot different from many, because I was so very introverted, isolated, contemplative and just inclined to do and consider differnt ideas and practices than the vast majority of people.  But still for so long, I was lost, and still I am still so precarious.  

I just want to find how to reach people, how to find a place and a way to fit in the world, and belong and be safe in the larger structure and order so  that it doesn’t dash me to bits.  And I just want to find also a way to pass on my knowledge, and insight, practices, healing, bliss, wonder, beauty, grace, goodness, that I’ve found to those who I love, at the very least, if no one else, if I can’t reach any farther than that, at least to someone, the ones most likely to be able to receive it, it seems, because they do have a lot in common with me, they are open, loving, caring, wise, thoughtful, in many ways, about things that I feel are often rejected or ignored by most people.  They aren’t totally open, or I could just share it all and it would be obvious, but still they seem much more open than most anyone, in reality.  Many are open in theory but not in practice, open to talk but not deep talk, open to ideas but not complex elaboration of the ideas, open to accepting but not to engaging or really understanding, so I feel on the outskirts of every open-minded seeming community that goes into the deeper things.  Even among them I feel excluded and ignored and rejected to a great degree, unwanted, irrelevant.  But with my own family, it’s different.  We aren’t just family, with all the ties, the life history, the love and hope, and continuity and always being there that that usually implies, to some extent.  We are also close, loving, much in common, understanding so much, nonjudgmental, open minded in so many ways far beyond the norm of society at all generally.  Even when the coldness, anger, bitterness, and avoidant resentment and self-loathing can all be there, with my closest loved one, besides my child.  And even with my child, still so young, dreamy, flying from one thing to another, active, distracted, as children often can be, seeking excitement and chaos, freedom, play, imagination, spontaneity and impulse.  I do not feel it’s really my place to try to redirect such bold and free and active impulses, yet it feels to me that I worry if it will take her away from the more contemplative path that I feel holds almost all of the wisdom that I could offer.  But children aren’t contemplative generally, are they?  And to try to make her go on that path too early might be wrong, so what age and how?  And maybe is it right, ever, if she isn’t inclined towards it?  How can I see if she is inclined towards it, how can I see if she has that gift and that sort of personality or whatever?  Because I think maybe it could be there, just latent, untapped, and how can I see if it’s there without trying to push her into this or give her too many practices that would unintentionally shape her and take her from her own natural gifts and true personality?  I feel my own personality was shaped away from who I was meant to be and ever after I felt lost, depressed, and in no way will I ever do that to her if I can help it.  But it feels like maybe there are some ways I can give here these opportunities and see if she is able to absorb them well and fit in with it all well and enjoy and thrive in it.  Maybe.  Just enough of these practices and ideas, and not too much to where it shapes too much her so impressionable childhood mindset and nature.  

As for my relative, can I ever find a way to reach them?  Can the rush and skating on the surface that most people look to me like they’re doing, when I see them, can that ever really be reached by me?  If I could write a whole series of books on all the things that would help them, and it had the cure, but they are never going to sit with the material enough to deeply perceive the truths in them, and it’s not just books you can skate through, but you have to really sit with them and return to them, turning them over and over , over time, seeing different angles and things you didn’t even notice at first, looking and looking again and again, over much time, many breaks, patient and slow and peaceful,... and if they will never even consider such a thing, and look with extreme skepticism and resentment on the mere ideas of such things, looking on such slow contemplation with arrogance and scoffing at it, supposed wisdom is seen as foolish, arrogant, and out of touch with realty,.. and indeed I think that often spiritual and philosophical ideas are truly out of touch, arbitrary order, unnecessary rules, deluded, narrow-minded so I see how they can assume such things about it all.  But is there a way I can reach them with these things that are only reached through deeper contemplation or s it just like I’m a deep water creature who can’t swim up there to where they are?  And if I tried to show them what you can only really experience in the deep they will not see it the same way, will just laugh at it and swim on by.  And yes, yes, I know this sounds very arrogant of me, to be talking about deep and shallow.  I don’t think they’re altogether shallower than me in every way, though>  I think that in some critical ways, they might be much better people than me, maybe.  And I don’t like to judge.  There is just so much that you can’t know or see of another’s experience.  But this is how I perceive the reality of it- that some ideas are deep and gradual and contemplatively accessed, and some are not, and that some people are inclined or willing to look at the deeper or more gradually, intuitively processed ideas, and some are not.  And you can’t reach those who won’t consider the deeper, gradual, obtuse, mysterious things,... Or you just can’t reach them with those deeper, slower, intuitive ideas.  A world of riches might be totally beyond them, till if they ever will open to the idea in more than a theoretical sense and really dive in and live there.  Their lives might not let them live there anyway, caught up in the rush, chaos, need, problems that feel urgently like you can’t escape and they take all your attention...  And they may  be far less able to concentrate and focus mentally, even if they had the free time and energy to spend on it.  Most people don’t read a lot of complex books and find them extremely painful to read.  I don’t even read a lot of them myself, because they’re too long-winded and detailed dry and arrogant-sounding and stuffy for me.  Or they seem too hard to believe and too hard to follow, too out of touch with my lived real experience of my life.  But some of these deep complex books and other things I read online, or audiobooks (sometimes much easier for me to process more quickly and pleasurably than reading certain kinds of books, if the voice and tone of the narrator conveys a lot of interesting content, that the text in itself doesn’t, for me) ,.. Yes, some of them I can read.  Some I do find great wisdom in and thankfully I have read just enough to give me immense benefits.  I know if it wasn’t for these authors much more brilliant and wise than me I would never have made it far in my life.  Self-destruction would have consumed me, delusion would have run my life.  But many can’t read the books and things I’ve read and can’t contemplate and arrive at the insights which have saved me from self-destruction.  

I know that talking like that might make me sound arrogant, but it is just how reality appears to me, when I perceive the facts and appearances of things before me.  It looks and feels to me as though so much goodness is trapped in books and things most people will never even be able to deeply think about because it feels too painfully boring to them, to ever tolerate.  

What then can you do but let go and hope there is another way they can find grace, mercy, goodness, in shallower waters, a way I don’t understand myself, a way I don’t live, a way I don’t know how to share because I don’t understand.  I’m not the one to help them, am I, unless I could ever come to be shown such things.  Then they’re a depth I can’t understand.  But I have to let go and give it to God or the universe or randomness and chance, or whatever it is, because sad as it could be, it feels totally beyond my grasp, unless prayer and metta meditation and energy work helps.