#or ALL THE OIL AND POWER BEING STATE OWNED. HELLO?

[grubloved]

its so silly but i just keep thinking abt being in norway and seeing for the first time kinda ever that like governments can do things to make peoples life better. for no other reason but just to improve things. like im sure norway has lots of problems i didnt see on a trip but i cannot stress how insane it was that the government had done things because it would be nice. to take care of people. ?????

[ashadowofburnedoutstardust]

Did you know that Chris Evans started a fact checking platform right before he got roped into a shitty PR situation with a racist prostitute from portugal?/

I don’t know how or when you are going to fucking understand. This racist white trash made that platform out of ego. He didn’t want to fat check any shit. He just did it to get traffic, attention from people and then when the platform reach out a good value in the market he can sell it at a good price. Is like the equivalent of the gun market, selling a platform where is full of powerful people from the capitol, but how can you sell it when even they can smell your bs from mile away and the desperation from his racist whore to get roles. Same like those celebrities do their makeup companies and tequilas. But unfortunately not every white men is intelligent enough. This pedophile racist doesn’t care about anyone and don’t want to fat check a shit about US government. And I am so happy that this platform didn’t go any further, it will be so disappointed that a racist sympathizer win something after all the shit and fake life he has been living.

Hello anon,

Chris Evans is fucking naive and coddled up to his fucking eyeballs and honestly a bit of a dipshit, but the thing is his naivety adds up to being well meaning

But ASP being a vanity project?

He could have done something much easier like sign up to a brewery and have an ale made out of his own personal favourite tastes and just sold booze, signed up to sell beard oil, hell he could have invested in a weed company now that its legal in some states

Instead he chose something that would eventually benefit the world at large instead of his own pocket (Not to mention the general health and welfare of pets)

He created ASP out of vanity???

No I don't think so, given the aims of the platform to inform the wider public and perform a service that does not turn a profit for him personally that unfortunately does not add up

An independent fact checking platform that has a celebrity with a powerful enough fanbase to cover up his shit for twenty years for free would pose a substantial threat to Washington at large

Just look at what is coming out of CNN and the BBC about how their media agencies have been directed to display an act of genocide in a way that attempts to minimise the negative blowback on Israel and therefore the US government

While I respect where you are coming from in your opinion anon given the shituation, I'm going to have to vehemently disagree

🤍🪽✨

[stereax]

Hello! I am writing a paper for a law school class on transnational courts about the IIHF and NHL-Russia player transfers. I’m starting with the Fedotov mess and looking for a thesis from there. I have found great stuff on litigation from the early 2000s and player transfer agreements with other leagues under previous CBAs but very little current info. I’m also looking for any updates on Fedotov since the IIHF’s ruling in August and Russia ignoring it. I know he’s playing in the KHL now. Did the Flyers just let it go because there isn’t anything they can do? Any help/ideas/resources would be much appreciated!!

I love you for this, so so so much. You've combined just about all of my interests in one ask. I'll give you the very concise version of it here, for public consumption. You might know most of this already, and I'm sorry if this doesn't help that much - but DM me for more info. I can and will go searching with you. Hell, if you want, you can "interview" me via Discord or via DMs here and cite me as a source. (I've done that a lot with my friends for papers hahaha, asked them their thoughts and then cited it.) Under the cut, as always! 💜

As you're probably aware, the IIHF is the leading organizer of ice hockey stuff around the world. I believe it's them that organize the Worlds and World Juniors, and they also have international standards for things like rink size. (Of course, the NHL plays on a nonstandard rink, so...) Importantly, however, the IIHF has very little legal power. It is difficult for them to fully enforce their decisions - especially when it comes to a country that won't listen.

Ivan Fedotov was a seventh-round selection of the Philadelphia Flyers in 2015. He has been playing primarily in the KHL since. In 2021-22, he backstopped CSKA Moscow to the Gagarin Cup (the KHL's version of the Stanley Cup) in what was widely considered a "breakout" year. Following this, in his last year of eligibility, Philadelphia signed him to a one-year entry-level contract (ELC), with the intent of bringing him to Philly and seeing if he could be a good enough goaltender at the NHL level (presumably to be the backup to Carter Hart) or even the AHL level. This is where things get screwy.

Fedotov is arrested shortly after the ELC is signed under the "charge" of avoiding the Russian army draft (understand that this was most likely a politically motivated arrest). He spends the next year at a fairly remote Russian military base, only communicating with the Flyers once in this entire year. He was allowed to continue training part-time, but not to the level he could otherwise have. So the ELC slides one year.

In the summer of 2023, Philly tries to get Fedotov overseas again... only to find that he's signed a two-year deal with CSKA Moscow. Now, the NHL and KHL used to have transfer agreements, but the NHL cut these agreements after the Russian invasion of Ukraine. However, Fedotov has two contracts, and he clearly can't play in two places at once. What happens?

The IIHF steps in, and decides that Fedotov's ELC with Philly should be honored - and that he and CSKA Moscow were not allowed to sign a contract with the ELC in place. They ban Fedotov from playing for 4 months and CSKA Moscow from being able to sign non-domestic players (international transfers) for one year.

Before I continue, something to be aware of with sports in Russia: certain teams are sponsored by the state and oligarchs far more than others. This is true with Russian soccer and also true with Russian football. CSKA Moscow, in particular, is one of the most-supported teams and is notable for its ties with the Russian army. Its dominance during the Soviet era was because it could literally draft the best hockey players (and I mean draft as in draft like for the army). It's currently owned by Rosneft, an oil company that's majority owned by the Russian government. (SKA Saint Petersburg is another of these highly-supported teams, for what that's worth.)

So CSKA Moscow, sort of predictably, flips off the IIHF. And starts Fedotov. In their first game. The IIHF can't really do much - it hits CSKA Moscow with a 5000 CHF fine (laughable) and threatens to refer it, and Fedotov, to the IIHF Disciplinary Board if they keep doing it. They keep doing it. Of course. The KHL's president claims that the 4-month ban threatens Fedotov's Russian constitutional right to work and that they will thusly disregard the ruling. As of November 2nd, Fedotov is still playing in the KHL - he just recorded a shutout, actually.

The Flyers really can't do much, outside of pressure the IIHF, which has little concrete power, to levy more punishments (and the IIHF has gone quiet about this too). Philly could try to, theoretically, smuggle Fedotov out of Russia a la Malkin, but you can only imagine what the Russian government will do to Fedotov and his family if he tries to defect. Especially because Fedotov's what, 26? 27? And goalies don't tend to have a long shelf life. Even if he came to the States, and played some games in the NHL, would those precious few years be worth the wellbeing of him and his family? Probably not. Again, since the NHL and KHL no longer have a transfer agreement, Philly and CSKA Moscow would have to come to terms on their own - and CSKA Moscow isn't keen on giving up their current star tendy to play in likely the AHL.

And remember, Philly also has Matvei Michkov now. Whose father recently died under "mysterious circumstances". And it's rumored those circumstances had to do with Michkov's father trying to terminate his son's KHL contract to send him to America sooner. That's also a factor here that must be considered - is it better to play nice with the KHL now and give up on Fedotov to be able to bring Michkov stateside?

The situation is incredibly complicated; unfortunately, there seems to be no easy end in sight, and probably very little chance of Fedotov seeing NHL ice in his career. The war in Ukraine also complicates this, and that is currently locked at a stalemate, so... good luck there.

Alright, that's my little lecture. If you need anything else, do DM me! I can see what else I can do as well :)

[randomplayz]

My no-good masochist of a husband

A man comes for Cecelia.

We don’t hear from her for months.

(The root of my surprise, of course, does not stem from the fact of someone taking Cecelia, dear no, that would be impossible considering her habit of making enemies quite eagerly, no, it stems from the sheer notion of no one taking such logical action sooner.)

Months after her disappearance we are generously graced with a letter, which accounts for all that transpired from the night of her departure to her current state of being.

Hello, Father, Mother and, unfortunately, Sister. (I feel the love)

I have been well. Though I cannot feasibly know how you have fared, I have been told that you have been given the best comforts of the world, as consolation for the Bastard’s kidnapping. He wishes that with this, all his heinous transgressions are to be forgiven while also arrogantly hoping of you allowing him to ask for my hand in marriage. Rest assured, with your forced approval or without it, I shall reject all advances he shall endeavor to make. I am a woman of virtue, and he is a most despicable man.

I am certain that you are most bewildered, for The Bastard that had so heartlessly taken me away, now most ardently imagines myself the bearer of his children. My charming wit has turned against me – is all I am to yet disclose.

You shall remember when he first appeared before your eyes, that he claimed to have known me, giving me the lovely name ‘witch’, and dearly dreamt of me paying ‘for my sins’. He had decided to rudely skip my long line of adversaries, who had been patiently waiting for their right to torment me, to, instead, complete his own selfish desire. I find that this further lowered him in my eyes, as one has to be a barbarian to not conform to basic social etiquette.

After he crudely took me, he locked me in a carriage with the worst possible person – himself.

I assume, that, at this point, you are rather intrigued as to how I have made such a powerful enemy and it absolutely pains me to leave your curiosity unsatisfied, for, I shamefully confess, I have no recollection of crossing paths with the rotten Bastard. When I informed him of this, language abandoned him; thankfully, so much so, that uttering a word proved difficult for him and I was left with the much preferred company of silence.

With our arrival at his estate I had come to a beautiful conclusion.

Father, Mother, and, yes, even you Sister, I have made an enemy of an important figure, a Duke.

Sincerely, I have hit the jackpot.

From that moment on my plans came alive. It was all very simple. I shall annoy The Bastard Duke into insanity and claim all of his possessions, with a contract to seal the deal. However, as I have stated above, all went awry.

At first, everything was sailing smoothly. His thoughts of me were anything but pleasant, and never was it more apparent when he attempted, vigorously, to set me ablaze with his gaze. Around that time I found a friend in his younger brother, Julius – a sharp-minded intelligent, whose sole purpose for breathing was to drag his brother down to the pits of hell. We may as well have been soulmates.

I enlisted his help in the torture of his brother, and Julius’s exuberance seemed greater than my own. We switched the milk with oil, the sweet sugar with bitter powder; the whitest of shirts became as dark as coal; and the Bastard's perfectly-maintained dignity plummeted in front of a lively audience when soiled with chocolate cake (which was done by yours truly).

But through these trials I had discovered a horrifying fact: the Duke was a masochist.

My constant irking has caused an undesired effect – The Bastard, after every humiliation, demanded more and more.

I have met my match. I admit defeat. This is a foe I cannot conquer. I cannot beat into submission.  All is futile. In the face of his, and it murders my soul to say, love, -  I am at a loss.

The Bastard is intent on driving me to the brink of insanity.

Now I have a not-quite sane Bastard Duke hanging onto my every word, as though Christ compelled it. (When he asked me to make a request of him I replied with ‘All of your earthly possessions, Bastard.’He did the unthinkable – he smiled, and stated in a grand voice all of his would be mine in the event of our marriage. Our. Marriage.

I am definitely leaning towards purifying his corpse when he meets his demise. But I keep having the horrible thought that he might as well rise from the grave just to put a ring on my finger.)

That is all. Please do enjoy those luxuries, for they came at a horrible cost.

Everyday, I suffer greatly.

Sincerely yours,

The future duchess through shady means,

Cecelia Harrow (I hope this surname shall remain for a long time).

[potsmart]

Pain Management Without the High: The Best Canadian CBD Topicals for Chronic Pain

By now most people know the difference between psychoactive THC and non-psychoactive CBD. For many smokers CBD is not that interesting, but perhaps they’re missing out on some incredible benefits of the lesser loved cannabinoid. Certainly many advocates of CBD would think so, as millions of people worldwide have found it beneficial for pain management, skin care, seizures and more.

Speaking of cannabinoids, did you know your body’s got a secret talent? It can make its very own cannabinoids, and they’re called endocannabinoids. These little wonders help keep your body’s systems in check and bring them back to a balanced state. The endocannabinoid system helps regulate more than most people realize. Let’s take sweating, for example. When you’re feeling too hot, your endocannabinoid system is triggered to cool you down, and boom, you start sweating to beat that heat.

Now, there’s CBD oil that seems to mess with your endocannabinoid system in a good way. Inside your nervous system, there are receptors that deal with pain signals. CBD oil or cream might just boost your body’s natural endocannabinoids to help block pain without addicting substances!

CBD has some proper studies and tests are promising for alleviating chronic neuropathic pain. It can dial down the intensity of the pain, help you sleep like a baby, and even tackle the psychological effects of the pain. And hey, it seems to be a potential hero for arthritis too!

More research is needed to be absolutely sure about CBD oil’s superpowers against chronic pain. So, let’s dig into a few products for topical use that contain CBD. Even stoners who love to get baked could get some benefits from the cannabinoid.

VVS Recovery Stick:

If you’re looking for relief from inflammation, burning, and itching, along with a soothing touch for your sore muscles and joints, why not give the VVS Recovery stick a shot? This specially crafted CBD topical is here to bring you the comfort you need, so you can feel your best again. Say goodbye to discomfort and hello to a world of soothing relief with the VVS Recovery stick! The stick form of topical CBD is super easy to apply similar to deodorant except over a sore muscle. The other ingredients in the bar help for an entourage effect of soothing relief. The bar has 300 mg’s total of CBD isolate in it and right now, Potsmart is running a 20% off coupon for the product, so there’s no better time to buy it.

Organa CBD Body Lotion:

CBD can also be used topically for itchy, dry skin and small blemishes. Organa has crafted an extraordinary Organic CBD Infused Body Lotion, containing a generous 500mg of pure CBD. Experience the benefits of natural, organic ingredients combined with the power of CBD, all in one soothing and nourishing lotion. Say hello to healthier, happier skin with Organa’s CBD Body Lotion!

The only ingredients are organic coconut oil, Organic shea butter, CBD hemp oil and organic lavender oil, so you know you’re picking up any weird chemicals.

VVS Bath Balm:

The same company that makes the recovery stick also makes a bath bomb.Bath bombs are an interesting way to apply a topical skin treatment containing CBD. Soaking in the hot water doesn’t hurt sore muscles either.

VVS Bomb’s bath bombs are thoughtfully infused with premium, high-grade CBD and essential oils, creating a blissful blend that helps you unwind and find relaxation. As you soak in the soothing waters, you’ll feel your aches and pains melt away, while insomnia, stress, anxiety, and depression fade into the background. It’s not just a bath; it’s a rejuvenating journey that promotes overall well-being. Treat yourself to the ultimate self-care experience with VVS Bomb’s CBD Bath Bombs and let the worries of the day simply dissolve.

Each of these delightful bath bombs is meticulously hand-crafted, using only the finest all-natural ingredients to ensure a product of the utmost quality. Just like your brain, your skin also possesses cannabinoid receptors that can be wonderfully stimulated by CBD, making these CBD-infused baths truly special. And, hey there’s a 15% off coupon on Potsmart right now.

Island Therapeutics CBD Transdermal Patch:

Transdermal patches are interesting and great for those with sore muscles. Experience the ultimate convenience in managing your CBD dosage with Island Therapeutics’ transdermal patch. No matter the purpose of your CBD use, whether it’s for anxiety, inflammation, mood, or anything else, this innovative patch ensures you receive a consistent and accurate supply of CBD all day long.

With Island Therapeutics’ special slow release system, you can rest assured that a steady stream of CBD will be conveniently dosed out throughout the day, maximizing the incredible benefits of this powerful cannabinoid. The patch is super easy to use – just apply it to a clean, dry area of your skin with good blood flow, and it will stay put for up to a full 24 hours! Embrace the simplicity and effectiveness of the transdermal patch and enjoy the continuous benefits of CBD at your fingertips. This one is 25% off through Potsmart!

By Rico Suave, for Potsmart

[ajwinter-is-a-nerd]

Le Chat Et Le Serpent - Chapter 53

Please note that the entirety of this story is a ****TRIGGER WARNING***** - mentions of child abuse, graphic violence, alcohol use, mental health, suicide, suicidal ideation, self-harm - basically a constant blow of pain towards the characters - as well as some "steamier" moments.

Chapter Summary:

Two different meal gatherings. I feel like it’s probably lunch in both cases. Either way - people are at tables ordering things and talking!

-

...I got distracted and didn't cue up the rest of the Chapters (ahh!) For anyone that is reading this on Tumblr, I will continue to post here until it is all up - but the completed work can be found on Wattpad if that's the medium you like to read!

Chapter Song (included in body below) - Dear God by Avenged Sevenfold

Darkness.

All he could see was darkness.

“Hello?” Luka called out, his voice echoing further and further away.

With his hands out in front of him, he carefully stepped forward. The light that seemed none existent reflected off a puddle of ebony on the ground. 

Is this, oil? Luka questioned as he dipped his finger into the mysterious liquid. It was thicker than blood but darker than coal. 

“You killed him.” Plagg’s silent voice carried through the space around Luka. 

“Plagg?” Luka spun to see the Kwami. 

Plagg’s eyes glowed neon green and ruby red. Ink was pouring down his body, as if he was decaying yet keeping the integrity of his body. 

“You. Killed. Him.” Plagg darted towards Luka, shaking in fury.

“No, no, we’re saving him! Didn’t we save him?” Luka pressed his palms against his temples. 

Adrien’s back was to him. “You left.” 

Luka wheezed as he woke from his nightmare, his head pounding. Throwing his hand to the side, it hit empty sheets. 

“Adrien? Adrien!” Luka tore the sheets off the bed. 

“Luka, it’s okay, it was just a nightmare.” Sass floated before Luka, trying to divert him from his panicked search. 

“No - but - where is…” His voice trailed off as he noted the unfamiliar surroundings. He was in another hotel. He was alone. Of course he was alone. That’s all he ever was. 

Crawling around his room, he searched for Adrien’s design. Did Adrien still love him? Would he ever want him back after everything? After the way he treated him? 

As he did nearly every morning, he held the paper up to his chest. Even if Adrien hated him, he was there for a reason. He would find the answers. He had to. 

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, he ordered a drink while waiting for Nathalie. He knew that she didn’t like how long they were gone either, but at least she could go home every now and then. The implications of being gone for too long for Nathalie meant that Agreste Industries suffered; the implications of Luka being gone too long meant that his career kept growing. Jagged Stone’s son! A voice like no other! He writes his own songs! 

When he was younger, he used to dream about playing for an audience. It felt empty when he lived it as a means to prevent himself from accidentally causing Adrien’s death. 

Nathalie had worked with Luka’s manager to get him to play in the places they needed recon, a stipulation that Luka and Nathalie requested in his contract. They would often split up, he would search the places that were closest to his venues, whereas she would travel to the places that they could not justify taking him sprinkled with sporadic visits to France to ensure that Agreste Industries was still on track.

Luka’s growing popularity had come in handy in getting locals to speak. Late night VIP visits in Bejing had led to drinks with triads; together, they ‘joked’ about these ancient mysterious powers. Laughed about the family that travelled to the United States, thinking that the rings would be able to harness their capabilities in ‘The New World’. The family failed miserably with strange health conditions and the inability to access family or guidance. There were entire groups in America dedicated to obsessing over this mysterious magic, even a house preserved under a different name. The fact that the rings were maternal caused a plethora of issues. The houses and possible historical events were always linked to the name of the husband, even when the twins kept their last name. 

Luka looked towards his nearly empty glass and regretted not ordering two. He’d do that the next time the waiter came by. 

He was especially nervous today, this meeting was to review what they would need before they flew to the States. Luka needed the answers to be there, because he didn’t know how much longer he could handle it. Nearly everyday he woke up and would never know where he was. With each passing day, it was harder to discern which was the nightmare he was living and which one he was dreaming; the only thing that was certain was that he didn’t have Adrien. 

The waitress seemed to recognise him as he ordered another. With every drink she passed him she had lingering eyes and, even more noticeable, lingering hands. She would run her fingers along his as she let go of the glass. A simple shoulder touch. Each one was a sad serenity. A soothing reminder that someone found something within him, a stabbing pain that the hands never belonged to the person he wanted. 

“You got here early.” Nathalie announced herself as she painfully lowered to the chair across from Luka. 

“Yeah,” Luka finished his second drink, pulling the third closer, “I want to go home. This is how we do it, right?” He sighed before taking another sip. 

“Yes, Luka. Maybe we can find the answers here. I know that our investigation has not been as fruitful as we first hoped, but I think it’s merely a matter of time before we find our answer.” Nathalie pulled out her notepad and set it on the table. 

“ Only a matter of time. Such an interesting concept. You say it shouldn’t take long, yet it lasts forever. Every second, the ticking of a clock, such a measurable concept. But still, somehow, our time is constantly out of grasp. All we ever seem to know is that it’s running out.” Luka tipped his third drink into his mouth. 

Nathalie ran her finger along her notes. She understood the boy’s frustration, but she just wished he would keep a straight head. It was hard to ask, considering everything they found seemed to only add complications. The most important pieces they seemed to find were:

There is no certainty to know if the cataclysm is used if the thrower of the weapon won’t die; but there is a near certainty that it would destroy the rings, releasing the dark forces within.

The rings will continue to grow stronger and more potent the longer it has a holder; when it is not a holder of the blood they will start to take control of the person themselves.

The longer they are used against a twin without being on the hand of another twin, the creatures get angrier towards the twin themselves. 

Adrien was supposed to be the next to have the next set of twins. And the rings up to that point always found a way. They hypothesised that perhaps a shift to paternal genetics could indicate a shift in the power or the curse, but then the rings would have not had such a strong effect on Marinette. 

Whenever someone tried to forcibly remove the rings, the person would stay in tact, but the thief would burn. 

“We will get there, Luka. Just stay strong. If Marinette keeps digging her teeth in, there will be nowhere that he can be safe.” Nathalie attempted to be hopeful. 

“If he’s not safe anywhere, then what difference would it make if I was there?” Luka shook his head at her as he grabbed the smoke from behind his ear. 

“Luka, I don’t know the exact ramifications of your relationship, but I know that you two can’t stay away from each other for long. If Marinette does anything to take control of his house, any reminder of you can lead to a consequence. We need to maintain trying to reduce his sentiments to keep him safe.” Nathalie pushed at the bridge of her glasses, slipping from the nervous sweat starting to build. She was starting to worry that they were never going to find a solution. 

“You got it. Keep making sure that he cares for me less everyday. It’s my favourite thing.”

Luka finished his fourth drink.

-

Love me, love me

Pretend that you love me

Leave me, Leave me

Just say that you need me

Lovefool by The Cardigans

Marinette tapped the counter as she waited for her order. She knew that Adrien liked this restaurant and thought she might be able to catch a glimpse of him. He kept secluding himself from work and beckoning him from afar was a strenuous task. It would only work part of the time; she couldn’t quite figure out the concoction to effectively treat him like a fetched object. But when he heard her voice, he was nearly helpless. 

Scanning the tables, her stomach sank. She’d been hoping to see Adrien, but the fact that he was ignoring her messages to have brunch with Alya and Nino was offensive. They used to always go out together. Why would they not invite her? They were always trying to push her out and it was pulling on her last nerves. As soon as her order came up, she stormed towards the table. 

“Hey everyone ,” Marinette shone an oversized feigned grin. “I seemed to miss the note for brunch!” 

Setting down her food on the table, she invited herself to the empty seat beside Adrien. 

“Oh! Sorry Marinette, we were just talking to Adrien about something personal… about him! About his uh, uh,” Nino stuttered under the pressure of a lie on the spot. 

Frustrated that Nino had even decided to open his mouth, Alya took over. “He wanted to know if we’d spoken to Whayam lately.” 

Adrien attempted to nod convincingly. Alya had made a smart decision by picking Whayam. He’d been closer to Alya and Nino than Marinette by a stretch; and there were two different ways that Marinette could interpret it, depending on what she’d heard from others. Either she could interpret as Adrien’s attempt to move on, or she would interpret as Adrien following up that Whayam was abiding by the terms of his restraining order. 

 “Oh, he was so sweet! But he always seemed like he was just a bit too extra. I think he might have been a bit too obsessed. He’s obviously not the right choice for you to get over Luka.” Marinette spun her food around her fork, finishing her sentence with a mouthful. 

Are you fucking serious? Alya had no idea what to say. Marinette had effectively dumbfounded her. 

Watching the expressions, Marinette could tell there was a layer they were avoiding. Alya was whitening her knuckles from how tight she held her fist, Nino was grabbing uncomfortably at his collar, and Adrien was mysteriously fascinated with the appearance of his drink. They were all avoiding saying something. 

“What’s going on?” Marinette tried again, hoping that her friends could just simply be honest with her.

“The Adrien thing!” Nino pointed to Adrien, who’s eyes grew wide as if to say, bro, don’t put it on me! I’m just as weak as you! 

The hormones in Alya were threatening to burst into a downfall of rage and sobs. She didn’t want Marinette to know yet, she did not trust her in the slightest. 

Nervously, Adrien tried to accept the reins from Nino. “Yeah, I’ve been quite the recluse since the shit with Luka and design week, you know how it is. I was just starting to feel… desperate… I guess?” Aware that his argument was not convincing he worked to veer them off topic. “So, you never answered me! What were the bets on the song? How many said the song was about Zoe and how many said the song was about me?” 

Adrien’s head was starting to throb, but he tried to keep forcing himself through it. This stress was worth it, because it wasn’t his secret to share. Plus, if he started getting a nosebleed, he would have the perfect excuse to leave this tense situation. 

“Well, Mr. Full of Himself Agreste,” Alya turned his head towards him, “The deciding vote was that it was metaphorical and it was really hard for him to leave home. His love is probably just France.”

“Well you’re no fun!” Adrien stuck his tongue out, which Alya proceeded to grab. 

“I think the song was about Zoe.” Marinette stated with false confidence. “I mean, he’s covered in her tattoos, I think he cared more about Zoe than he ever did Adrien.”

Forgetting precisely what she had a hold of, Alya pushed harder on Adrien’s tongue, forcing him to incomprehensibly whine. Releasing his tongue she forced herself to not look at Marinette. She tried to consider what it would look like from an outsider’s perspective. That they were just friends for a long time and had a quick fling that fizzled out. Marinette didn’t really know the story, but the comment was ruthless either way. 

“Well,” Adrien moved his tongue around in his mouth, trying to recover from Alya’s grip, “I think that tips the scales, doesn’t it?” 

“If the tattoos say anything it’s that he’s still in love with Chat Noir, let’s be real.” Alya eyed Adrien, letting him know that the question to where Luka’s heart sat was permanently inked on his body. 

“I always forget about that - it seemed so - staged, you know?” Marinette turned to Adrien, as if he would be the one to agree with her.

“Yeah, no, totally,” Adrien, the civilian, agreed to the best of his abilities. 

“Enough about Luka, guys!” Alya put her arms out, nearly toppling over the glassware. 

“Okay, then why don’t you guys tell me why you’re actually here today?” Marinette scrapped the last bit of her food. She could sense the tension rip back over the table, but she wasn’t leaving until she got an honest answer. 

“Girl, we already told you. Drop it.” Alya voiced it as a threat. 

Crossing her arms, Marinette leaned back in her chair. “Adrien?”

“Mmm?” Adrien looked up over his mimosa that he’d been trying to use as a diversion again. 

“Tell me, what secret you three were talking about before I sat down?” Marinette pointed towards Alya and Nino.

Alya pushed her head in her palm. Even by the way it was asked, she knew that her assumption was correct. Marinette was knowingly using the rings to control Adrien. 

“Alya and Nino are going to have a baby.” Adrien replied uncontrollably. He swung his hand over his mouth. “OH MY GOD, I am so sorry!” 

“DUDE!” Nino shouted towards Adrien. 

Alya petted Nino, not wanting him to be mad at Adrien. “It’s fine, Nino. It’s fine. We were going to tell Marinette as well, but didn’t think it would be under such circumstances.” She shot Marinette a look, letting her know she did not appreciate that the secret had been forced out. 

“THAT’S AMAZING!” Marinette shouted as she held her fists by her face. 

Adrien was holding his jaw and moving it around. This kept happening. Things he didn’t want to say or do. Headaches, nosebleeds, they all were increasing, becoming a regular part of his life. He didn’t understand what was happening to his autonomy. 

“You have to keep it a secret, better than ol blabbermouth over here!” Alya tried to laugh off the situation, to mask the flames of fury that were rolling within her. 

“Yeah, I’m so sorry, I have no idea what overcame me.” Adrien pushed around his cutlery in his napkin. 

The air was tensely silent as Luka’s song started playing on the speakers. 

“This guy!” Adrien groaned, bringing his head to the table. 

“You know, Adrien, I really don’t think you should be that bent out of shape about it.” Marinette offered her opinion on the situation. 

“Yeah, like you’re one to talk.” Alya stared daggers at her in warning, pregnant or not, she would fight Marinette. 

Sighing, Marinette stood up. “Well I am super happy for you guys, but I should be on my way. Adrien, drive me to work, please .” 

The cutlery rolled from the napkin as Adrien stood up, the cloth material still between his fingers. “Sorry, I will transfer you guys the money for lunch!” Adrien exclaimed, his voice backed with terror. As he walked towards the car, he still pinched the napkin.

-

“Aweh, I’m sorry,” Marinette pouted as Adrien cleaned his nosebleed while sitting in the driver's seat of his car. 

“Yeah, I have no idea what’s been going on lately, but they’re coming back with a vengeance. I keep a beach towel in the back seat just in case.” She laughed at his sentence, but he really wished that he was joking.

“Adrien, I um… I’ve wanted to tell you something for a long time.” Marinette tapped her fingers on the dash of the car.

“And when I’m spewing out blood seems like the best opportunity?” Adrien turned to her, holding the drenched piece of fabric. 

“I never seem to get you alone… so, I guess so.” Marinette nodded while watching her rings gleam in the light. 

Adrien bit his lip. He was worried he knew the direction this was headed. He knew he had a crush on him when they were younger and for some reason it seemed to have resurfaced as of late. More and more she was calling on him and trying to get him into compromising positions. He wanted to believe it was just in his head, but it was far more difficult to run away from in this moment. 

“I’m in love with you, Adrien.” She looked through the windshield at the street that was past the parking lot they were in. Desperately, she wanted him to say it back on his own.

“Marinette, I really, seriously appreciate the sentiment -,” before he could finish speaking Marinette overrode him again. 

“Say you love me too.” Her eyes glistened with tears. 

“N… Ugh, wha-,” Adrien was struggling against the headache bursting at his skull. 

Deeply breathing, Marinette spun her rings. “Say it.” 

“I love you, too.” The words were poison leaking from his lips. 

The tears continued to fall down her face as she weakly smiled. “I think we’re perfect for each other.” 

“Fuck!” Adrien’s was bleeding through the napkin, completely starting up again. He kicked the door open and grabbed the towel from the backseat. There was a moment of debate, should he run away with a full-sized towel over his nose or get into the partially hidden cover of his car. Unfortunately, his pride won.

Returning to his seat with a huff, he turned to her with a flaming rage, and a rubber ducky towel pressed to his face. “Marinette, I don’t know what happened, but I-,”

Her entire face seemed to meet at the middle as she scrunched, spinning the rings again. “Stop it! Say we should be together!”

The tug at Adrien threatened to black him out if he didn’t comply and something told him not to risk it. “You’re right! We should be together!” 

Sighing in relief, Marinette tapped her hand on the dash, and Adrien finally recognized it. He finally understood what Marinette was doing to him. The humiliation during design week. Ridiculous requests. She was wearing his parents' wedding rings; no wonder he listened to Gabriel so well.       

Author's Notes:

They’re making some progress afar - but it is really starting to grate on Luka. Notice here that he’s early. Just for future reference.

Alya and Nino wanted to ask Adrien to be the god father, but didn’t have a chance!

Here it is - the part that we start to enter pure anger - Adrien being forced to tell Marinette that he has feelings for her (even though he obviously doesn’t). Now Adrien is going to be in a constant “gun at my head” situation. If he tries to go for the rings - it could very quickly turn bad news bears.

Dear God by Avenged Sevenfold is actually one of the first songs I thought of with Luka leaving; having to deal with it feeling like there’s nothing there for him and he just misses Adrien and hopes someone will watch over him.

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Hello Frank! Hope you're having a lovely day. I'm learning to drive at the moment and I was wondering if you have any tips or words of wisdom you might be able to share, please?

My own experience as a driver is limited, especially for a few reasons. One is that I drive on the left side of the road in the US, but I do so with the intention of driving on the right in other countries, which might not translate into the ability to drive well in a manual transmission vehicle without lots of practice. Second, I've had a lot of bad experiences driving for work in a lot of situations I could not control, so I am only now picking back up a bunch of things I used to be able to do and I'm doing it slowly so my mental state doesn't collapse entirely and I can be an even greater hazard to myself and others.

Still, I do want to write some things down and hope to get to it when I feel better and able to take a lot of this in.

more

This question is too big to just give a bullet list of all possible things for you to do. I want to write something that actually helps people. I'll try to make it more and more useful over time as I can, but I don't want to write something that feels like it's overloading you with things you don't have time to do yet.

I'll go with some stuff that is at least somewhat universal. (This stuff is mostly a list of questions rather than actual advice to be followed, but hopefully the questions will provide you with answers that you can then turn into advice that will be more helpful than this post.)

1. Car parts

You will not be able to start your car very far without your keys, so don't leave your keys in your vehicle. If you can lock your car without your keys, do this. If not, consider buying a small lock that can be affixed to your steering column that you can leave inside but can't take out without help, and then you could lock the keys in the car whenever you want (the most common place is in your glove compartment, so that's the easiest place to start, but a lot of newer cars don't have key-locked glove compartments, so you'd have to look in the back of the vehicle). This will make the whole starting car process much faster and more comfortable.

(Note: if you do not need your car to be locked all the time, or you don't need it locked all the time, this is a much less important concern. Just take precautions so that if it's needed you can get to your keys more quickly.)

If you think you're going to forget to lock your car, leave your keys in your glove compartment, on a key ring, or otherwise with something you'll remember. If you'll forget to do this but leave the car in a secure location, leave a note asking your family or whoever to return the keys to you, so that if you forget to lock your car nobody will panic and start trying to unlock the door with a credit card or w/e.

Remember to check the level of oil in your engine and replace it if it needs to be changed. A well-tuned engine will have a higher engine RPM (number of times the engine revs per minute of running time), which is what gives you more power, better gas mileage, and faster acceleration. If your car is old enough, you probably need to check the oil regularly.

If your car has low tire pressure, you probably need to check for leaks or a puncture somewhere. For example, if your tires are low but you don't have a flat tire, it's probably a leak in your inner tube. You can tell if the air goes through your tires without being pushed into them, or if there's too much friction, because it will cause your car to move around slowly. If it's not leaking, it's probably a puncture. Again, it could also be something else, such as a nail in your tire, that is stopping the air from being pumped in.

If you can, get an air pump to keep in the trunk of your car for emergencies.

(Note: If you can't get your hands on one of these, consider purchasing one as an emergency kit in case you'll forget to buy one. For instance, if you leave your key in your glove compartment, this could keep a situation like the one mentioned above from occurring. However, you can use an air pump any time if you need a way to keep air in your tires. So the air pump doesn't replace the need for a reliable key, you could consider purchasing one anyway just in case the need for a key is more likely.)

Some people find that running a fan is helpful in starting their car, especially in winter, because a fan in the cold air will push the fuel-scented air through your car and then fill the interior with air.

I don't see any evidence this works for most people, but it can be useful for some. So, if you find it helpful, keep it in mind.

As your car starts to get less and less reliable over time and you start leaving your keys around again and again to get to them, and you find yourself worrying about forgetting to lock your car all the time, you can replace it. You can get a car that you can lock that is more reliable in terms of starting it and going places. Also, consider upgrading to an automatic car, which is an extremely useful thing to have in the world of drivers. (These are also fun to drive and very reliable.)

2. Other car stuff that might help

Most new cars have an emergency brake on the driver's side near the steering wheel and a starter button. If you get in your car and leave your keys inside and not in your trunk or glove compartment, and you try to start the engine, the emergency brake will engage automatically to prevent your car from starting. This will be much less intimidating for you and your family than trying to start an engine you can't actually engage. You can just sit back and enjoy not having to worry about whether to start your car. You can do the same thing if you have an automatic or "semi-automatic" car (meaning that it needs to be turned on to start, and can start with your foot pressing the gas and the brake at the same time – these cars are usually less safe to drive, and you should be more careful around them than you would with an automatic car).

3. Stealing gas from other cars

This may actually work (it's easier than getting a new car), but be aware that there are better ways to pay for gas that are less risky.

4. Using credit cards to fill gas

These are probably the best way to pay for gas you'll ever do. You can always come back and use them when the gas is low, and you don't have to be the one in the driver's seat – there's really no reason not to use them.

However, there is a little risk that this will only be used once. A lot of people forget that they have credit cards in their wallet/purse/bag/clothing/wherever, so sometimes they forget when they need it. So keep an eye on yourself, and try to use your credit card on gas if you'll be able to do so safely.

If you don't, consider using cash instead. When a gas station near your home is low on gas and you feel like you're running low, you can just go in and spend your $20 cash on gas instead. That's not too much of a big deal. If you don't have a card and you need gas, and a store is closed but they have a gas station open, you can usually pay for gas that way too. You won't feel like you'll never get gas again.

If you are buying gas on a road trip, and a gas station is closed where you are (or where you're about to be) but your tank is low, remember that if you try to pay for gas in this situation with a credit card the driver will see you use a credit card instead of cash, and that this could make them not want to give you gas if they don't already want to. So don't do this.

Be aware that there are a lot of people using gas stations as an ATM for their credit cards – so if you fill your tank with $20 cash because the station is closed and then your credit card is declined, you can't get gas with that card for a little while.

5. Cars that run out of gas before you can get to a gas station

If your car is out of gas, but you are near a town, you should be able to go into a convenience store, buy a gallon of gas, pay with credit card, and fill up your car. This is the safest way to go about this, and also is free, but there are other methods you could use if you can't be bothered and don't feel like walking home to an ATM.

The main other one that people think of when their cars stop working, or stop working very well, is to siphon gas off other cars

[pascalpanic]

Burning The Midnight Oil (Javier Peña x gn!Reader)

Summary: Javier has been burning the candle at both ends. He just needs some rest. Luckily, you’ve got your husband covered.

W/C: 3.4K

Warnings: oh boy um. language, non sexual nudity, brief sexual jokes/innuendo, lots of talk of sleep deprivation bc that’s a plot point here, brief mentions of alcohol and guns (maybe once each), mostly talk of food/eating, eating meat/pork (Javier does, not reader) otherwise I’d say it’s fluffy for the most part

A/N: ☄️ anon, god bless your soul for this idea!! I really love it so I banged it out in one night and here we are!!

You haven’t seen your husband in days. You know he’s exhausted, only ever showing up at home when you’re off at work. It’s a terrible situation, the only contact you’ve had with him being at odd hours over the phone.

The DEA has been all hands on deck this week, requiring their men to be there at all times unless they’re at home and sleeping; even then, they only get about six hours off at a time, many of them too wired to sleep. Javier only gets to come home every other day, usually during the middle of the day. He’s been staying up for a dangerous amount of time, in your opinion, leaving you just about ready to find the heads of the cartel and beat their asses yourself.

During the work week, you can’t complain. You have no right to. You knew when you and Javier had eloped and married that the man’s job was a baggage you’d be forced to carry as a couple. You normally didn’t mind, but when it goes into the weekend, that’s when you get mad. Not just that you don’t get your husband at home with you, but that he doesn’t get to be home. He deserves it. Javier hardly relaxes during the weekends, and essentially does not relax on weeknights until he’s fallen asleep with his head on your chest.

Saturday found you running errands, expecting Javier home by midday at the very latest. Returning home with a pep in your step and finding no Javier there, your mood and smile fell instantly. It’s Saturday; your husband should be home. They should be letting them go home, you thought angrily as you took your anger out by chopping the vegetables to go into your dinner. Surely Javier will be home by dinnertime.

Nothing. 6 P.M., 7 P.M., no Javier, just a dinner growing cold and your heart sinking. You knew Javier had got his break yesterday, and had been in the apartment while you worked, but a slightly rumpled bed was the only evidence he was even there.

At 8, you walk to the phone and dial the DEA office, specifically Javier’s extension.

Your husband picks up and his voice wrecks your heart. “Peña,” he mumbles, his voice crackly. It sounds like his morning grumble after a long night of sleep next to you.

“Javi,” you coo, heart breaking. “Baby, when are you coming home?”

Javier perches on the edge of his desk, phone tucked between his cheek and shoulder. “Fuck, cariño, I don’t know,” he admits, rubbing his face. “I just woke up, I got an hour nap in the break room office. We have to keep going. We’re so close, I can tell.”

You understand his desperation, but you know exactly what he looks like now, a stubble growing thanks to his time away from home, his eyes bloodshot and drooping. His hair is probably messy and his shirt is probably all wrinkly; you’re absolutely certain he’s holding a mug of the sludgy black coffee the office brews. He’s most definitely the picture of exhaustion, and even though you can’t see him, you know your husband. He is a wreck. “I can let Saturday slide, but you’re coming home tomorrow, I don’t care how long. I need to see you and you need to be taken care of.” “I’m doing just fine,” Javier shakes his head and you can hear a flick of a lighter as he’s most likely lighting a cigarette.

“You’re not, and don’t try to pull that card with me. I know you. You’re a disaster; I can tell from your voice. You haven’t eaten and you haven’t slept and you can’t deny it. I want you home as soon as you can tomorrow, you got it? Don’t you even fucking dare try it, Javier Fernando Peña.”

The full name: ouch. He sighs and exhales the cigarette smoke, then takes a sip of his coffee before answering you. “God, I fucking love you,” he chuckles softly. “Okay.”

Another sign of Javier’s exhaustion: how easily he gives in. Javier is a stubborn man, but over your years together he’s learned that you’re just as hard to budge. When both of you are set, neither of you can be moved. Your sarcasm and wit and willpower was what drew him to you in the first place; Javier could never have a compliant, submitting partner. He’d be a mess. He needs you to ground him, he knew and still knows it. It’s why you’re married now.

“I love you too, handsome. Call me before you come home, okay baby? I want to be awake for you,” you say, a soft smile on your face. Your voice is much warmer, less jagged and rough.

It’s the way you always get Javi, the thing that makes him melt the most: when you’re snapping one second and gentle the next. God, he fucking loves you. You understand him, you don’t question him when he comes home and doesn’t speak. You read him and then you hold him, and all of his fears dissipate with his calming breath. “Okay. I love you,” he repeats again, more earnest and purposeful. He wants you to know it; he worries you haven’t felt it in the past week. It’s also another sign of his exhaustion.

“I love you too, Javi,” you remind him as you chuckle and stand. “Don’t fall asleep on the job. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Javier groans and cracks his neck after hanging up, sliding the typewriter back to the beginning. Just a little longer, he tells himself, then he gets to come home to you.

-

The phone rings around 5 in the morning, waking you from a restless slumber. The sun is just starting to rise, making the sky lighter and colorful from its previous midnight blue. Knowing Javier would be calling, it was impossible for you to sleep fully, leaving you in a dozing state more similar to a daydream than to any form of REM.

“Hello?” You answer with a groggy voice, hoping it’s Javier. Who else could it be, at this hour on a Sunday morning?

“Hey, dulzura,” Javier sighs into the phone. “I’m packing up my shit now. We didn’t get Escobar, but we got one of his big guys late last night. They’re bringing in some Search Bloc guys and giving us tomorrow off.”

You nearly cry in relief at his words, making a noise between a sigh and a squeal,  heavy and happy. Javier laughs softly at your noise of relief, allowing himself to smile. His vision is hazy from the lack of sleep, but he’ll be cognizant enough after this last cup of coffee kicks in. “Get your ass home, Javi,” you tell him with a voice just as sleepy as his own. “You got an ETA for me?”

There’s a moment of silence as he looks at his watch. “5:45.”

Your eyes haven’t even opened yet, and you finally let them as you look at the clock. That’s soon, really soon, and it makes your heart speed up a little as your body forces you awake. “Great. I’ll see you then. Drive safe. If you’re too tired-”

“Steve will not be driving,” he cuts you off with a grumble. It makes you giggle a little, his adamance that Steve could never possibly do something better than him, more competently.

“Just reminding you. I’ll see you,” you tell him and hang up before he can make another sarcastic comment.

He’s glad you hang up so fast. He doesn’t have the brain power for a classic witty retort.

-

Javier goes to unlock the apartment door about half an hour later, but finds that his keys aren’t necessary: you’ve left the door unlocked for him.

He’d be ashamed to admit it to anyone but you, but it really does happen: Javier’s eyes water as he walks inside to the smell of cooking, the stream of soft light through the kitchen window, the sound of soft Sunday morning music drifting from the radio.

You’re at the oven, cooking, and turn when you hear a noise, grinning to see Javier. “Hey, handsome,” you squeal and rush over, wrapping your arms around him.

Javier buries his face in your hair, throwing his arms back around you. You smell fresh and clean, so soft in the fluffy robe he bought you for your birthday a few months ago now. You’re surprised to feel warm water drip from his eyes to your neck, and you pull away with a frown, cupping his face. “Are you okay, love?” You ask, wiping the tears from his eyes.

He nods. “So tired,” he admits and swallows hard. “So glad I’m home. So lucky I have you.”

You have a feeling he doesn’t have the energy to kiss you. Instead, you press your forehead to his and squeeze him tight in your arms. “Okay. I cooked breakfast. You need it. Why don’t you go take a shower?” You ask, breaking away and rubbing his arms.

He shakes his head. “My arms feel like lead. I don’t know if I can even wash my hair,” he admits, his voice a low rumble from his chest. “Just let me sleep, baby.”

“I’ll come with you, then,” you offer, already unbuttoning his shirt and working it off of him purely for comfort. You know your way around your husband’s body by now. You could unbutton his shirts blind; in fact, you have. “Come on, cariño,” you murmur and pull him along to the bathroom by the side of an unbuttoned shirt.

Once in the bathroom, Javier blinks and squints at the bright vanity lights, overwhelmed. You turn on the shower, the bathroom filling with warmth as the water heats and steam fills the air. Even in his tired state, Javier loves to undress you. He tugs the belt from your fuzzy robe, sliding it off your shoulders and tossing it on the counter. You then strip off your respective clothes, and you’re the first to step into the stream of the warm water.

Javi doesn’t have to say anything; you can tell his thoughts from your gaze. His eyes rake your body, taking in the sight of his most beloved person on the planet in all of your naked glory. He climbs in after you, and you grab a bar of soap and get to scrubbing, covering all of Javier’s body with the cucumber-scented suds. He leans his head back against the shower wall, loving your warm hands and the hot water. If he wasn’t standing, if his back wasn’t aching so hard, he’d fall asleep here and now. He’s never been more blissful.

You rinse his body then work his shampoo into his thick hair, your fingers scratching his scalp and massaging his head. “You’re the fucking best,” Javi mumbles sleepily. You just chuckle and work the soap into his hair, stripping it of the grime and cigarette smoke of the office, until he’s wiped clean, ready to start anew.

Later, you wash yourself and let Javier enjoy the hot stream of the water. He’s so zoned out you can’t even tell if he’s awake. You have to actually check. “Javi, baby?”

“Hm?” He mumbles

“Did you fall asleep on me?” You chuckle as you turn off the shower, which makes Javier frown at the loss of warmth.

“‘Course not,” he grumbles, taking the fluffy towel from you and wiping his face.

After the two of you have dressed in fresh clothes, you sit on the edge of your bed and wait for Javier to finish. He pulls a worn t-shirt over his head, then comes and sits next to you, kissing the side of your head. “You’re so good to me,” he mumbles into your temple.

He goes to flop back but you put an arm around him, catching him. “Excuse me, Agent. I made breakfast,” you chuckle and sneak a kiss from his lips, chuckling at the way his mustache is still a little damp. “When was the last time you ate?”

Javier stares off as he considers it. It takes a while for him to respond. You nod at that. “Exactly. Come on, I made breakfast just the way you like it.”

The food is still somewhat warm when you find your way to the kitchen. Javier loves the local cuisine, always has, but something about an American breakfast makes him weak at the knees. He sits at the kitchen counter and sighs as you hand him a plate of buttered toast. “There’s your appetizer,” you chuckle and head back to the stove. Half-cooked bacon, which you turned off when he came in, sits in a pan, and you turn it back on to finish. You crack a couple of eggs into another pan, making sure they sit just right so they’re the way Javi likes them: fried. You sprinkle them with salt and pepper, humming to the radio as you cook.

The sizzling bacon makes Javier’s stomach grumble. The toast isn’t even that warm anymore, but the carby goodness fills Javi’s mouth and suddenly he’s never felt so ravenous. The two pieces of buttered toast are devoured in a heartbeat.

Bringing him a mug, you pour some coffee and his favorite creamer in. “You’d better tip me later,” you tease him with a wink as you return to the stove, flipping the bacon and putting some onto a plate.

“I will tip you anything you want, I swear,” he murmurs before sipping at the ceramic mug, the warm coffee going down like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, warming him from the inside out. The A/C blasts in the apartment, making his dripping hair feel even colder.

In yet another pan, you start pouring the premade pancake mix you’d prepared before he got home. “All of this and the sun is barely up,” He muses, wandering to the other side of the counter and stealing a strip of bacon.

“Quit,” you whine and smack his hand, making the bacon fall back onto the plate. “Your order isn’t ready yet, sir. Stop harassing the cook.” When his arms wrap around you, your defenses fall. “Go sit down,” you say weakly as he kisses your neck.

At least he obeys. Javier sits in his chair and watches you intently, downing his coffee in a short amount of time.

Finally, the feast all comes together, and you present it to Javier on a large plate: bacon, fried eggs, fruit (which you know he won’t eat, but it’s worth a shot), and heart-shaped pancakes. “I wanted to make a pistol, but I’m not super artistic,” you chuckle as you refer to the fluffy cakes on the plate.

Javier shakes his head but smiles. “Thank you, dulzura,” he manages out before he digs in, devouring the plate at a breakneck speed. You’re content to watch, standing across from him. You go to refill his coffee and come back to find the pancakes completely gone.

It doesn’t take much time at all before the plate is wiped clean, the entire thing in Javier’s stomach. Food has never been the biggest concern for him; he skips meals often for work, and you suspect he hasn’t done much more than snack here or there over the past week. His eyes droop even further now that he has a full stomach, and it warms your heart. You’ve got your husband cleaned and fed; now all you need is one last step before you have your beloved Javi back.

“Alright, handsome,” you smile as you drape your arms across his shoulders. “Nap time.”

He can’t deny that. He stands, letting your arms fall off his shoulders. He pulls you around to his front and wraps his arms around you; you know what comes next in this routine. Your feet slide on top of his and Javier walks the two of you to the bedroom, you backwards and being led by him. Javier is not an overly affectionate man: kisses and sex, primarily, hugs if one of you really needs it. This is his one little act he insists on, since you don’t let him carry you.

As you waddle along, you kiss along Javier’s jaw, giving him all of the affection he missed out on in the past week. When you finally enter your bedroom, you stop as you feel the backs of your calves against the bed. You know this routine all too well. It’s usually reserved for when Javier can’t get his hands off of you, when you desperately need him on top of you, surrounding you, kissing your neck. “Wait,” you murmur and step off of his feet, going to pull back the covers.

You return to the end of the bed, standing on top of his feet again. “There,” you say with a grin, and Javi has no choice but to grin back then kiss you. “Okay, continue.”

Then your routine resumes: you fall backwards onto the bed and Javier falls on top of you. You both grunt with the impact but you smile, wrapping one arm around Javi while the other grabs the sheets and blankets and pulls them over the both of you.

Javi’s cheek is nestled against your chest, listening to your heartbeat, his eyes already shut. “Real cute. Get off of me now,” you tease and nudge his side.

His body beneath yours is all he’s needed, all he’s dreamt about while half-consciously dreaming on the apartment couch. He can feel your chest rise and fall, his head going with it. “No,” he simply mutters, his face squished against the skin encasing your beating heart. “M’comftrble.”

You can’t deny him that, you chuckle, your hands reaching down to entangle your fingers in his dark brown hair, nearly black from the dampness it holds. “Fine,” you sigh, whispering the word to him. “I love you so much, Javi. Missed you. Missed my man.”

“Missed you too, dulzura,” Javi mumbles back, but it’s clear he’s almost already out.

“How long were you up, minus that nap, Javi?” You ask.

He thinks on it for a minute, and you think he might’ve fallen asleep until he responds. “36.”

“Hours?” you exclaim quietly, massaging his scalp. “Baby.”

“I know. Had’ta.”

“Well, you can sleep as long as you need to now, love,” you murmur and kiss his forehead. He makes a soft noise of disapproval. “Just a nap. Wake me in like an hour.”

“Okay,” you lie, knowing you’ll let him sleep as long as his body needs it. “Rest now, baby.”

Javier nods and you exhale deeply, holding his head to your chest. He’s back now, your husband, and you know he’s safe, know he’s healthy and well taken-care of: you did it yourself. His breathing slows. You can feel it against your chest, the way the steady rise and fall becomes slower and slower and you know you’ve won when you hear a soft snore, his parted lips smashed against your chest.

You stay like that for a while, Javier lying on top of you and resting. It’s a comfort to have him pressed against you, to feel your husband’s body and know that he’s here. It’s even better to know he’s resting well, deeply, from the way he slumbers against your body. You intermittently kiss his head, continuing to rub his head in hopes it’ll loosen the tension he’ll surely have when he wakes.

About an hour passes, and you find yourself drowsier and drowsier as the sun rises higher and higher in the sky. Scooting out from beneath Javier, you replace your chest with a pillow to support his face. Rolling him slightly to the side, you cuddle in behind him and spoon him, your arms around him.

The quiet Sunday morning is all too perfect. You drift off too, then wake up an hour or two later and proceed about your household chores. You burn some pretty candles, clean, listen to the radio.

Javier doesn’t wake until 10 P.M. that night, 15 hours after he fell asleep.

Some nap.

-

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[thegrapeandthefig]

Hello! How are you? I'm in love with your posts, and I learn a lot from them. Thanks for sharing your knowledge! But could you help me, please? Can you tell me how the Greeks asked for spiritual protection for the house? I know it was usually for Hekate, but I don't know how I could be asking. Thank you!

Thank you for the kind words, I'm glad you find my posts helpful.

Edit: This got very long, and I promise I do answer your question eventually, just please bear with me.

There were many ways one could protect their home, and as I said in my "spiritual protection" post (which I assume is the one you read before asking this question), a lot of different techniques revolved around the house's threshold. I'm going to avoid repeating too much what I already said in that post and add that a lot of it comes down to a set of religious habits that were protective in nature.

Let's start with the Noumenia and the action of cleaning/replenishing the khadiskos in honor of Zeus Ktesios (+ the libation to the Agathos Daimon on the 2nd). More than monthly praise to the divine Father, it is in essence a protective ritual meant to protect the pantry - your food. So here we have a first domestic ritual that very likely included a prayer and sacrifice.

In parallel, the beginning of the month marked the time where one would tend to the statues (hekataia for Hekate, herms for Hermes):

In fact, it seems likely that the immediate outside of a Greek house could well be cluttered with statues: as well as the pillar of Apollo Agyieus, we have evidence that it was common to find hekataia and herms, representative of Hekate and Hermes respectively:

ὥστερ Ἑκατεῖον πανταχοῦ πρὸ τῶν θυρῶν. they’d [personal law courts] be on doorsteps everywhere, like the shrines for Hekate. (Aristophanes, Ckouds 804)

ὁσοι Ἑρμαῖ ἦσαν λίθινοι ἐν τῇ πόλει τῇ Ἀθηναίων (εἰσὶ δὲ κατὰ τὸ ἐπιχώριον ἡ ἐργασία πολλοὶ καὶ ἐν ἰδίοις προθύροις καὶ ἐν ἱεροῖς) the stone statues of Hermes in the city of Athens – they are the pillars of square construction which according to local custom stand in great numbers both in the doorways of private houses and in sacred places (Thucydides 6.27.1)

Porphyry tells us that these hekataia and herms would be cleaned on a monthly basis (De abstinentia 2.16). There are no identifiable archaeological remains of any of these statues in situ, but Faraone points to evidence of ‘a shallow recess off the street in front of the housedoor… [which] seems ideally suited for statuettes, presumably fashioned from perishable materials.’

- Kerr M. D., Gods, Ghosts and Newlyweds: exploring the uses of the threshold in Greek and Roman superstition and folklore, 2018

So we have to imagine that the presence alone of the statues had their own protective/apotropaic properties but also the monthly tending of it. We could go as far as to imagine that the monthly cleaning was accompanied by a prayer and offering. It honestly doesn't seem like too much of a stretch.

We need to understand that, despite me titling this last post as "spiritual protection", there really isn't much of a distinction between the "physical" and the "spiritual". The statues at the door of the average Greek household protected as much from the spiritual (eg. the restless dead) than the mundane (thieves, mice, illness, etc.)

And this is only for domestic cult. Athens had a fair amount of festivals dedicated to purification, and therefore, protection. The most relevant one for your question is the one(s) that involve the eiresione, aka a branch of olive or laurel that is adorned with wool, dried fruits, nuts, sometimes little flasks of oil or honey. It’s part of at least the Pyanepsia, but some people associate it with both the Pyanepsia and the Thargelia, and I would even be tempted to add the Delphinia, all festivals to Apollo.

During the Pyanopsia, an eiresione would be carried by a young boy during the procession to the temple of Apollo, where it would be placed at the door. That being said, it seems that people made their own at home, and kept it close to their house door:

several passages of Aristophanes which show that any normal house in Athens might be expected to have one outside the front door all year round; […] The orator Lycurgus associates the origin of the custom with an ancient famine, and says ‘decorating a large olive branch with everything that the seasons produce at that time they dedicated it to Apollo in front of their doors, calling it eiresione, making first fruit offerings of all the products of the earth, because the suppliant branch placed with Apollo ended the famine in our land.’ –Robert Parker, Polytheism and Society at Athens, 2005

So here we have an example of a protective device that doubles as a ritual tool and is intertwined in both personal and state-cult. Placed at the door for a whole year, it is then replaced at the next Pyanepsia where the ritual would be renewed. Again, we find something that is close to this type of formula (imo) "ritual involving an object"+"sacrifice"+"prayer" like with the monthly sacrifice to Zeus, but here, the eiresione seems to provide more long-term protection.

One could point out also the presence of other apotropaic devices, like phallic imagery. Pompeii stands out in this matter for the Roman example but the practice is present in Greece as well:

Phallic imagery in public monuments and in ordinary domestic and commercial plaques can be found at different times and places throughout the Greek world. A relief of a phallus was discovered on the island of Thera in the Dorian, Hellenistic colony (Figure 1). This engraved, rock-cut, large phallic plaque (1.4m) is placed in the doorway of a residence from the Oea on the island of Thera next to the Greek inscription τοισ φιλοισ (for my friends), an inscription that reflects the “benevolent inclusion of friends within the apotropaic protection.”2 When the phallus is accompanied by this type of inscription, [...], the strength of the apotropaic phallus is further reinforced, sometimes promising “retribution in the precise form taken by the evil to be warded off." - Claudia Moser, "Naked Power: The Phallus as an Apotropaic Symbol in the Images and Texts of Roman Italy.

But there were others that weren't necessarily linked to a deity, like some plants, such as when Dioscorides (Ist century AD) tells us this about the red squill: "It does also ward off evil when hung whole on front doors." (De Materia Medica; II, 171, 4)

-

While I wouldn't advise the red squill method (toxic plant), I hope you can see from my long answer that methods were varied. If anything, it shows the ancients were very much concerned about their protection -spiritual or not-.

I do not know your situation, so I can't tell you which of the options will work best for you. Personally, I have an eiresione at my door (+ a lot of phalli around the house due to the gods I worship) and more recently I added the tending of the khadikos to my routine. But you could choose to have a representation of Hekate, Hermes or Apollon at your door (even one that is aniconic, if you need discretion) and do a monthly ritual to the chosen deity, giving your thanks for the protection, pouring a libation, cleaning it. Choosing the right epithet during your prayer to communicate your request clearly (such as Thyraios or Hermes Strophaios -the latter being more against thieves) is a good idea.

I hope this helps, and that examples I gave can inspire you to figure out what it is you want to do.

[todoscript]

Syndicate — [ 1 ]

Parts | one ; two ; three

Genre | Mafia AU / Anti-Villain AU.

Pairing(s) | MafiaBosses!TodoBakuDeku x Fem!Reader

Rating | Mature

Words | 5.2k+

Summary | Being the lover of, not one, but three influential young men, who are the leaders of the most wanted crime syndicate in Japan, it is no surprise that other eyes are watching you beyond the three’s own.

Warnings | Violence. Cursing/crude language. Guns. Mafia talk/“negotiating”. Lots of fighting. Reader is inspired by the femme fatale archetype. Polyamorous relationship. Characters are aged-up. Sexual undertones/implied sexual content. Possessiveness. Heavily self-indulgent. Written in 3rd POV. Shouto’s “codename” is Mercury (b/c the planet is both half-hot and half-cold lol).

Author’s Notes | Hello all! This is the first ever fanfic I’ve posted on tumblr! Sorry, the idea was lingering in my head until I suddenly felt the burst of energy to start writing this out of nowhere in the dead of 3AM. I’ve written fanfiction before but I’ve never published anything for tumblr so this is exciting.

The air is still, nearly silent apart from the nocturnal creatures that scurry and prowl through alleys, navigating over the dewy darkness between the seams. The moon graces the gloom of the night with its luster across desolated areas in Japan. Business hours have longed past as services are halted until the next coming day. Civilians are nowhere to be found, tucked away in their homes with their lights flickered off.

What remains alive in Japan during this hour is the wind cast through the streets, the scamper of animals in the nocturne, and a low hum of an ebony vehicle driven down roads of street lights.

“Whatever the fuck Overhaul wants better be worth my fucking time, Deku,” hisses a peeved Katsuki Bakugou, leaning against the window of their sleek automobile and looking highly uninterested during the ride. Izuku Midoriya, the young man with the head of unruly verdant hair, nods his head. His expression is mild at his friend’s usual discontented tone.

“Kai Chisaki—the head boss of the Shie Hassaikai yakuza—wants to negotiate with us, Kacchan. Surely it would be advantageous for us to hear him out. If anything we’ll manage to at least squeak some intel from him to reference for later on.” A glint rises in the male’s eyes.

“‘Some intel’ ain’t enough. If they’re gonna drag all three of us out here, then it better be for something good, or else I might have to let off some explosions to satisfy my boredom.” Bakugou’s quirk begins to pop and crack around his palms at the idea of letting loose.

Shouto Todoroki—the third of the trio—sighs exasperatingly at his fellow inflamed mafia boss, running his hand through his red and white tresses.

“Bakugou, I’d advise against it. Knowing the location we’re heading to, your explosions would only cause a ruckus in the area that’d get the annoying heroes involved. I’ve had enough dealing with those fools as it is and we also don’t need the men in blue following after our trail.”

“Shut up Icy-Hot! If this ‘negotiation’ isn’t beneficial to us, I’ll find my own way to make them pay for wasting our damn time!” Bakugou yells.

These three young men—Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugou, and Shouto Todoroki—are known as the bosses of one of Japan’s most powerful organized crime syndicates.

Notorious, ruthless, and authoritative, these three, despite their youth, have secured a name for themselves within the underground crime world. Aside from their tenacity and skill, the strength of each of their quirks played a large factor in their rise among the rivaling crime groups. They easily snuffed out the weak competition without so much as a sweat, and working under them are other strong combatants, each of them possessing their own unique and powerful quirks.

With everything at their disposal, the Yuuei mafia group quickly obtained a vast, large territory within the capital of Japan—the epicenter of where all the shady deals and disputes occur.

“We didn’t even bring Angel Face with us. What a drag.” Bakugou gruffs. He leans back in his seat, arms crossed, and cushioned behind his head as the lamps flicker past them, the dim lights splayed across the endless road.

“Letting ____ rest was the least we could do after her successful infiltration at the political officials gala,” the middle of the three states matter-a-factly.

“Especially after the rounds she endured even after her mission,” Todoroki adds, vividly remembering the gala dress cascading down her skin and clinging to her body that night, as well as their antics that ensued afterward.

He recalls the beautiful, red formal gown she wore for the occasion, the material hugging her figure perfectly and accentuating her curves in all the right places. God, he prayed that something within him wouldn’t stir at the thought of it again.

They all remembered it quite clearly. It made their fingers itch the very evening of the event, yearning to touch all the dips and arcs that sculpted her body. Her hair, styled up and tied with a matching silk red ribbon, kept the skin of her neck bare and begging to be marked while gold lined her wrists and collar bones. To say she was a goddess that night would be an understatement. The three could barely keep their hands off her before she even left the mansion, let alone attend the gala. But once her mission was complete, she arrived home to be thoroughly loved and lusted, with three young and hungry men indulging in all the divine fruits this celestial being had to offer to them.

The girl they speak of is not only their right-hand woman but also the three’s beloved paramour. Since their journey into coming to power, ____ has been with them through thick and thin and has become an influential asset in attaining their position.

Beautiful, yet dangerous, she proved to be an incredibly powerful fighter in many forms of combat in combination with her quirk, along with having a gift for deception that allowed her to climb her way to the top of the pack. Naturally, the trio found themselves drawn to her, not just for her strength and beauty, but also her passion and ability to mend the spirits of those around her. If it weren’t her, the Yuuei mafia group would not be as intact and well-oiled as it is today.

“Besides, we have some of our best following in the car behind us in case anything suspicious happens,” Midoriya gestures to the similar-looking sleek and dark-tinted car trailing behind their own.

“I very much doubt we need them, but it’s best not to worry Angel too much while she’s resting,” Todoroki murmurs, crossing his legs.

A few more turns and they’ve eventually entered the area of a vacant warehouse located on the edge of Japan near the shore.

The moment their vehicle is directed to a stop, the three bosses exit. Bakugou vehemently slams his door, eyeing the building with a vexing glare.

“Let’s get this shit show over with. This better be good.”

The warehouse is eerily quiet in the dead of the night and smells of salt from the ocean behind it. Spotting them walking to the entrance, the watchmen of the Shie Hassaikai yakuza hastily open the doors enclosing the warehouse. The hinges bear an uncomfortable creaking sound that jars through the silence.

“Oh, he’s here! He’s here! My cute little Izuku is here!” hollers a shrill voice belonging to an all-too-energetic head of messy, bunned-up blonde hair. The said boy blinks twice at her enthusiasm as they approach the lone wooden table situated in the center of the warehouse.

Uh, do I know her? He ponders for a second before dismissing the thought.

A pale man with gloved hands and shaggy auburn hair holds a hand out to halt the girl behind him. “Calm down Toga, we haven’t spoken of negotiations yet, so I need you to be quiet.”

Toga pouts, nearly grasping a silver blade at her side but stills herself for now. In the meantime, she opts to fidget with the tubular machine wrapped around her body.

The three look up to view a small group illuminated by the light fixed above the wooden table. Their eyes swiftly count seven or eight of them surrounding that area, including the ringleader, and likely more hidden somewhere in the darkness around them. After all, any fine and experienced villainous group would know better than to invite the bosses of the most dangerous crime syndicate without being thoroughly prepared for a possible scuffle to occur.

However, for now, they all advance with the notion to talk first before unleashing quirks and violence (well most of them anyway).

“Welcome, welcome. I see you made it to this place without much trouble; you’re right on time,” Overhaul greets the three young men mildly, “Deku, Ground Zero, and Mercury.”

Midoriya walks forward as the center of their entourage to return the cordial greeting. “Yes, it’s nice to finally meet you, Kai Chisaki of the Shie Hassaikai yakuza. Otherwise known as Overhaul.”

“Ah, so you know of me and my cause. It seems our reputation precedes us.”

“Of course. The Shie Hassaikai yakuza has long been in business in the crime world…” Midoriya muses, “Though they’ve wrung out past their former glory. Having since been pushed back into the underground after the rise of heroes.”

Bakugou smirks, close to letting out a snicker at the backhanded comment.

It’s true. While the Shie Hassaikai were one of the main criminal groups running the yakuza underground, that all soon fell and crumbled as the surge of heroes came into society. It was only after the former boss’ grandson, Kai Chisaki, came into power and took leadership that their name grew back into prominence once again, albeit little by little.

“Why you little–” A man donning a long white raincoat and plague doctor mask swiftly appears with a pistol pointed in Midoriya’s direction, none too amused by the remark. However, he’s cut off by a wall of ice erected at Midoriya’s side.

“Watch where you point those toys you little rat,” Todoroki sneers, and the tone of his voice nearly exposes chills to the air.

“Calm down, Chrono. We’re the ones that invited them as guests, thus we need to treat them like so.”

The white-haired subordinate withdraws at the words of his leader, retracting the gun back into the pocket of his coat.

“I apologize, he’s simply on edge over the fact we have some pretty powerful people at our doorstep. You’ll have to excuse him.”

“It’s quite all–”

“Did we come here to talk, or did we come here to fight?” Bakugou barges through, shoving past Midoriya with no restraint.

“I thought this was a fucking negotiation, not an apology fess. If one of your dogs is so edgy, I’d be happy to give him a good thrashing to satiate him if you want,” his raised hand sparks and flickers in the dark, “If not then get to it, Overhaul,” he threatens. Midoriya sighs.

“I think we’re simply all… piqued as to why this meeting was demanded out of nowhere and scheduled for the dead of the night no less, but I’m sure you have some important matters to discuss with us right, Overhaul?” Midoriya reasons, a sly grin on his lips.

“Right, let's get to it shall we?” Approaching closer to the table separating them, Overhaul continues, “First off, I must congratulate you on successfully infiltrating that gala the other night. Not many crime organizations can sneak into a party of that caliber. Especially when it’s so heavily guarded and kept secretive to all suspicious eyes of the dark,” he commends, digging a hand into the pocket of his jacket.

The three exchange quick, wary glances from the corner of their eyes that the opposite party misses.

“You were there?” Todoroki questions bluntly in which Overhaul hums in response.

“Hm, yes. But for different reasons, I’m sure. You see, I’ve been… examining little details of the Yuuei mafia group recently. It fascinates me how well-oiled and efficient you are at running your organization, so I began to ponder: ‘How do they do it?’ Little did I know, the answer all became more than clear to me from what I saw at that gala,” the auburn-haired man drawls, finally plucking out a photo from his pocket and sliding it across the wood under the light.

The moment the three recognized the image, their eyes widened, soon shifting into visages of sheer hostility at the next statement pronounced.

“This girl here? I want her.”

Within the confines of the paper is ____, dressed in the red gown she wore the very night of the gala, a masquerade mask over her features with the purpose to obscure herself in the throng.

The three before Overhaul seethe vessels of wrath.

“What did you just say? Do you even know what you’re asking of us?” Todoroki feels icy and heated atmospheres form on his opposing left and right sides upon hearing Overhaul’s words, sensing the tension rising around his fellow partners as well.

“The girl, I must say, does excellent work at her job. She’s skilled and tactical, having infiltrated many influential organizations and assassinated several powerful faces getting in the way of your mafia group. Such precision, efficiency, and beauty makes her the perfect woman, wouldn’t you agree?” He picks up the picture, bringing it up next to him.

Given the deadly pressure in the air, the next words he utters might be the final nail in his coffin.

“Well, I want you to hand her over to me.”

The nail is hit. There’s a lingering silence before hell nearly breaks loose and the next motions could deliver his soul down the River of Styx.

Fueled by blood-boiling anger and annoyance, Bakugou charges forward to land an explosive hit on the yakuza boss. “LIKE HELL WE WOULD, YA FUCKING BASTARD!” He’s thwarted by a yellow barrier emerging to shield the leader from the attack, courtesy of a henchman at his left side. The blonde jumps back, his hands still crackling and his rage not dissipating anytime soon. “Don’t go spewing a bunch of shit outta your mouth!”

“Now… let’s be rational or you’ll start getting dirt everywhere...” Overhaul dusts off his shoulder before resuming the conversation nonchalantly, “Of course I’ll provide you with compensation. I wouldn’t be so naive as to expect to be given something so valuable without offering payment after all.”

With a snap of his fingers a large, bulky man promptly lays a silver briefcase on the table. The locks click open to reveal wads of cash layering the case to the brim, enough to flabbergast and entice any common citizen in Japan.

“If this amount isn’t enough, I have another briefcase with—”

A jolting sound of the wooden table and metal briefcase breaking beneath Midoriya’s foot is enough to diminish the rest of Overhaul’s remark, signifying their blunt answer to his offer.

“What a waste of a night it’s been. Presenting money to us in hopes that we’d simply hand over our beloved like she’s some prostitute for sale? You're more of a fool than I took you for, Kai Chisaki,” Each word that rolls off Midoriya’s tongue is laced with venom. Such malice is enough to paralyze those who hear it, as if it would be the last statement they’ll ever listen to before hitting the concrete dead.

Reasoning with the trio any further is equivalent to bargaining with the god of the underworld, offering nothing but your knees on the floor and a sad pleading voice, only to be whisked back to the deepest, darkest chambers of hell.

Overhaul simply pauses before following with a long, testy sigh.

“A no then? Alright. Toga.”

The bun-headed blonde pounces forward at the command almost instantaneously, knife in her grasp and ready to swing. Midoriya moves to the side with ease, evading the blade as well as dodging a puncture from a needle. His agility is manifested in green electric currents of aura.

“Ooh, I finally get to cut up and obtain cute Izuku’s yummy blood!” She grins psychotically, keeping both eyes trained on the green-haired boy. “Heehee, I’ve been waiting for this day! Ever since I saw that photo of you all bruised up in a fight, I had to have you all to myself! I just love a man all red and bloodied!” Toga exclaims in utter glee, giggling like a schoolgirl meeting her celebrity idol.

Midoriya grimaces, nearly shivering at her excitement over announcing her neurotic confession to him. Her contorted facade is not earning her any points either. Taking notice of the wary expression that crosses his brows, Toga grins wider.

“It’s OK, even if you don’t like me now, you’ll definitely like me when I get a drop of that girl’s blood and transform into her! We’ll look so much alike, you’ll have heart-eyes for me too!” Her features curve into a look of pure hysteric that leaves Midoriya speechless, so much so it takes a loud blast hurled past him to finally bring his senses back to the conflict.

“Move it, Deku!” Bakugou’s attacks are relentless and powerful, but Toga’s nimbleness prevents her from getting hit.

“Deku, Ground Zero, back up,” Todoroki raises his left hand, the corresponding side flaring with heat before quickly igniting into bright hot flames enough to cover his entire arm. “You lot have some nerve to call us and arrange this abhorrent deal under the guise of a ‘negotiation.’ I’ll incinerate you all for even thinking you could take her from us.”

His quirk is unleashed in a flurry of fire that’s launched toward his enemies.

“Dabi,” Overhaul signals and a lanky man with patched, burnt scars and skin held together by staples and stitches steps forward, triggering his blue blazes to combat the red-orange ones. The infernos collide into a firestorm that soon scatters and disperses due to a power struggle.

“Tch,” Todoroki narrows his brows, annoyed.

“Hm, the brat’s not all talk after all,” Dabi’s expression remains stoic while his hand hovers in front of him, still swallowed by his azure flames. Wordlessly he releases his blazes once more only to be countered by Todoroki’s wall of ice diminishing the onslaught of fire.

On their end, Midoriya and Bakugou are in pursuit of the head honcho Overhaul himself, while attempting to throw blows at Toga along the way.

Now enveloped in energy that increases his strength and dexterity tenfold, it isn’t long until the green-haired young man catches up to crafty Toga’s momentum. With a grunt, Midoriya kicks forward, swinging his foot into the girl’s direction with tremendous force that’s too quick for her to avoid.

Toga braces herself for the impact but the attack never meets. Instead, a yellow shield materializes in front of her to take the blow, a crack now evident on the surface of the saffron safeguard. “Oooh! Izuku’s really out for blood! How thrilling!” she squeals, licking her lips.

“It’s that fucking barrier bastard again! Move over, I’ll kill him!” yells a pissed Bakugou who jumps over Midoriya’s head, running across the top of the manifested barrier. From there, he spots his offender.

Gritting his teeth, he dashes off the shield before it can disappear and uses it to propel himself forward. His palms glow and envelope themselves with heat as he holds them outward.

“Rappa! I can’t conduct another shield so quickly, get him!” Tengai, the one with the barrier quirk, hastens his partner. Rappa zealously swoops in front of him with iron-knuckle gloves ready.

“Oh no, you don’t! Try and fucking dodge this!” Bakugou brings his hands forward while still in midair, “Stun Grenade!” A radiant, gleaming light emits from his palms, effectively blinding all those within his vicinity.

Rappa and Tengai have no choice but to cover their eyes from the intensity of the light, leaving them wide open to strike!

Without hesitation, the ash-blonde creates two more explosions to launch himself forward, spinning in the air and gathering momentum before firing his attack encased in an explosive tornado.

“Howitzer Impact!!”

In an instance, a flash exudes in a fiery burst of nuclear reaction, which releases violent discharges of kinetic energy towards his enemies. The attack hits home, covering a chuck of the area with debris and rubble, and producing a hole on the right side of the warehouse.

Tengai and Rappa are incapacitated.

“Kac— Ground Zero, you went all out didn’t you…” Midoriya mutters while holding Toga down despite all her fidgeting. In a last-ditch effort, the girl draws out the spare knife tucked away in her utility belt, however the young man on top of her knocks it away before she can react any further.

“Toga, am I correct? I suggest you stand down, or I may have to break something to make you cooperate.” Midoriya’s warning exudes a menacing tone, in contrast to his former courteous character and the gentle features adorning his face. Yet Toga does not seem fazed by this.

“Heehee, you’re so cute when you make threats like that…” she giggles, shifting her head ever so slightly to catch glimpses of the male’s appearance. He’s quite disheveled down to his wrinkled suit, unbuttoned collar, sweat glistening on his forehead, and what’s this?

Toga peeks at a single crimson line split on the skin of his cheek with dilated pupils.

“Even though you were so fast, I at least managed to graze you just a teeny-tiny bit! That scarlet cut looks so nice on you, Izuku, aw how I wish I can give you more!” She prattles on and on, beaming over every utterance spoken past her lips. “I did say red is the best color on you, after all!”

Midoriya’s eyes narrow at her behavior, fists clenched and apt to deliver a silencing blow.

“Although… blue wouldn’t look half bad either.”

Unable to express confusion at her remark, he soon perceives a blast of cerulean blue flames aimed and released in his direction, forcing him to jump up to dodge the attack. Toga makes her escape after the fire diffuses, withdrawing next to Dabi. The patched man continues his onslaught on Todoroki and Midoriya.

“They’ve managed to defeat our spear and shield, and nearly took out Toga,” Overhaul’s stance is methodical and calculating, overseeing the fight from the back lines of his unit with a gloved hand beneath his chin. “I suppose it’s time to use that,” he declares.

Chrono briefly glances at him before reaching for a gun in the pocket of his coat—a different weapon from the pistol he pointed at Midoriya earlier. In a container held behind him, he produces a peculiarly shaped bullet, one that takes on the form of a cartridge with a hypodermic needle sticking out on one end.

“Dabi, when these bullets hit, that will be your chance to burn them all away,” orders the auburn-haired man. He raises an arm to prep for the signal as Chrono readies the gun wielded in his hand, positioning his target onto the spiky blonde mafia boss.

“Ha! You think a pathetic little gun is going to stop me?!” While Bakugou exudes confidence and arrogance, his dual-haired comrade is not as keen about the situation at hand.

Why would those fools try to use such a primitive method of fighting at this point? They saw how useless that gun was earlier… ponders Todoroki in the heat of battle, Unless…

“Ground Zero! Be careful! There’s something fishy about that weapon they’re using!” he warns, making the blonde’s expression fix into an irritated glare.

“Shut up Icy-Hot; I know what I’m doing! Why don’t you pay attention to patchwork over there before you get another scar!” Bakugou quips back, eyes never leaving Overhaul. “I’m gonna make this washout yakuza leader regret ever giving us a call to this useless negotiation.”

The man is impassive at the blonde’s threats, lips remaining in a fine line underneath his mask. His arm stays raised next to him for Chrono to acknowledge.

At once, Bakugou’s body launches back into action like a jet engine propelling a rocket. His movements gather more and more sweat to strengthen himself for another devastating assault.

“Pesky thing won’t stop moving…” mutters Chrono, hand continually shifting aim at Bakugou’s unpredictable tumbling. “I’ll just make you sit still!”

On command, arrow-shaped hair pierces through the fabric of his hood and extends straight to Bakugou. His quirk’s versatility and quick instincts allow him to evade the attack to the left with ease. However, it seems Chrono was waiting for that very moment as the blonde is now within his gun’s line of sight.

Overhaul draws his hand down, giving Chrono the signal to finally pull the trigger. A crack of a sonic boom resonates within the single millisecond it is shot. The dart is fired.

The gunshot rings throughout the space of the warehouse. Todoroki and Midoriya can barely register the shot in time to yell out to Bakugou, whose head turns toward the capsule’s velocity in almost slow motion.

Crap..! he curses, unable to move away to escape the bullet in time and preparing to embrace the shot.

However, it never makes its mark.

“Boss! Watch out!”

A gruff voice suddenly makes its debut within the fray, taking everyone by surprise as the newcomer throws himself in front of Bakugou, hardened arms crossed.

“What the—!”

Chrono watches in despair. The bullet ricochets right off the rock-like body of a man with spiked tufts of crimson red hair.

“What the hell? Red Riot?!” sputters a bewildered Bakugou at Kirishima’s abrupt entrance.

“D-Dammit!” Chrono tries to fire again to rectify his failure, but his attempt is in vain. Something muscly wraps around his arm tightly, tossing him away.

“Froppy!” Midoriya calls out to the girl as she retracts her froggy tongue, currently clung to the wall, and camouflaged into her surroundings. She reveals herself into the battle with a small “ribbit.”

“While you guys were inside, a bunch of their goons started surrounding our cars. We knew something shady was up, especially when we heard explosions coming from inside, so we busted our way in here right past them!” Kirishima explains, now standing back-to-back against Bakugou, “Seems like you’re fighting a battle too!”

“I see, so they planned on ambushing all of us if we didn’t comply with their deal,” says Todoroki. He fires more flames in their direction. “How pathetic. They were woefully unprepared.”

“Agreed! Ambushing is no way to fight! Real men would come at us head-on!” Kirishima emphasizes his fierceness through clanking his hardened fists against each other, jagged edges sparking.

“Red Riot! Froppy!” exclaims Midoriya, “Where are the others?”

Asui ribbits before answering, “They’re handling the rest of the—”

“L-Leader..! Leader!” a frantic voice shouts from the entrance of the warehouse, where a ragged up Shie Hassaikai henchman tries to pry inside.

“T-The girl..! She isn’t h-here, she isn’t— GAH!”

His message is interrupted. A menacing shadowy figure looms over the goon like a monster hiding within the dark and throws him back to the struggle outside, proceeding to rampage across the battlefield. Desperate cries leak out but to no avail.

Overhaul discerns the sputtered message:

The girl he so desired was not with them to begin with.

To his dismay, this fight was pointless. If what he sought could not be forcibly taken right then and there, then there is no reason to continue the battle. There was no prize to be won by the end of it all.

Now, he must adjust his plans due to the unfavorable news. How tragic.

At the thought of having lost time, energy, and resources, the yakuza leader pinches the bridge of his nose, utterly furious. There’s a pause in which Overhaul seethes an aura of killing intent over this frustration.

But it eventually simmers and subsides. What happens now cannot be changed, no matter how enraged he is. So he must take logical steps to preserve and remedy the repercussions, which to him was simple:

“We’re withdrawing.”

“What?” Dabi looks at him incredulously, “After all this?”

“Yes, they've taken down our spear and shield, and have wiped out the majority of the soldiers. If what we want isn’t here, then there is no point in staying,” Overhaul’s husky tone bears weight and authority at every word.

“Nemoto, grab Chrono from wherever he was thrown.”

“Yes, Overhaul. What about Rappa and Tengai?”

The auburn-haired man doesn’t so much as spare a glance toward his two defeated subordinates lying on the ground, “Leave them. They’re expendable to me.”

Nemoto nods, going to gather a knocked out Chrono thrown across the warehouse and now lying unconscious atop broken wooden crates.

Midoriya’s fists clenched tightly at the scene, realizing what the yakuza’s next plan of action was going to be.

“They’re trying to escape!”

“Oh, the fuck they are. I won’t let a single one of you bastards leave!” Bakugou bursts into the air, propelled by the explosions from his palms in hot pursuit, with Midoriya catching up thanks to his heightened speeds.

“Sorry boys, party’s over!” Toga intercepts the two using twin knives flung in their direction, catching them off guard. Dabi follows the diversion by gathering a massive amount of flames into his hands before swiftly releasing the kindled energy to erect a blue wall of fire throughout his surroundings.

“Bye Izuku~!” a feminine voice shrills from behind the fiery wall, becoming the last words they hear as they wait for the flames to dissipate, ultimately revealing that their enemies had already fled.

“Those fuckers couldn’t have gone far,” Bakugou doesn’t relent, poised on finding them and having them pay the full consequences of their actions. Midoriya grasps his shoulder, stopping him.

“Let them go, Kacchan. Considering the location they decided for this meeting, they likely fled by boat. We have no way of following them at the moment.”

Todoroki agrees, adding on, “Besides, there are more important things to worry about right now,” he casts his gaze to the wooden table Midoriya had broken prior to the fight transpiring. “For one, they’re after ____ and are willing to go to any lengths to get her. We need to head back to the mansion to make sure she’s safe.” There’s slight urgency evident in his tone. Despite their tenacity, the idea of having their beloved wrenched away is enough to render them even a little bit fearful. Had she been present in the conflict, there’s no telling what could have happened.

“And two,” Todoroki walks off to another site of the warehouse, picking up something dropped on the floor, “we need to figure out what this is.” In his hand, he holds the small capsule bullet that is now slightly dented thanks to the impact against Kirishima’s hardened skin.

The other two examine the capsule briefly until Bakugou decides to take it from Todoroki’s fingers for closer inspection. If Overhaul was so keen on using a gun to do away with them all, despite how inferior it was, then this must be no ordinary bullet.

The three decide to contain the item for further examination for now as they, Kirishima, and Asui make their way outside again. There, bodies of Shie Hassaikai thugs littered the floor after having been thoroughly beaten into submission. Tokoyami, Yaoyorozu, Uraraka, and Kaminari lean against the cars casually but remain attentive after the fight.

“It was quite an ill-planned move to dare to attack us in the night,” Tokoyami’s eyes closed in thought at the havoc he wreaked thanks to the amplified powers of his quirk. Kaminari snickers and boasts with an electric snap of his fingers, “Yakuza didn’t know what hit them, the mafia always stays on top.”

“Excellent work everyone, it seems the henchmen were of no trouble to you,” Midoriya commends the squad, “Now, we must leave before the police arrive on the scene to assess the damage.”

Their six combatants all nod at the order, about to gather back in their vehicle until Bakugou huffs with a final statement before they make their getaway.

“Know that the next time we see those Shie Hassaikai bastards, we will take them down,” He narrows his eyes at the ocean, the moon still hanging above the sky and basking the waters in moonlight,

“without hesitation.”

Ending Notes | Whew.. thanks for reading! For the next part I was considering writing it in 2nd POV since the reader will actually be physically present during the events of the story now, but I’m not sure yet. Please let me know your thoughts and follow if you’re interested in this series <3

[angelinasway]

Regaining Hope

Chapter Eight

Pairing: Clark Kent/Buffy Summers Warnings/Triggers:Torture, Violence, Mention's of Major Character Death, Bad Language, Sexual Tension, Eventual Smut, Mentions of Sexual Assault Summary: Takes place during Man of Steel. When Buffy discovers the U.S Military trying to keep quiet about an object buried in a twenty thousand year old glacier, she immediately thinks the worst. However, when a surprise visit to the Canadian Arctic puts her in the path of a mysterious stranger her whole world is changed forever. Authors Notes: Thank you all so much for being so very supportive. You guys have been absolutely wonderful. Seriously I couldn't ask for a better group of readers. I need to warn you all that this chapter has quite the graphic and gruesome scene in it, so if that's not your thing I highly recommend skipping the part where Clark starts to watch the video. Some major questions answered here. Hope you all enjoy, and keep the reviews coming. Special thanks to my ever amazing beta Hipkarma. She always helps and inspires me. Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Previous Chapters: [Chapter One] [Chapter Two] [Chapter Three] [Chapter Four] [Chapter Five] [Chapter Six] [Chapter Seven]

[TTH] [AO3] [FFN]

Chapter Eight

 Dawn smirked as she saw the caller ID flash. So, Buffy had talked to Wes. That was good. She really didn’t want to have to break into the Watchers Council just because she was nosy and worried for her sister. Buffy hadn’t told her much when they talked yesterday, just that there was some sort of prophecy about her and this Clark guy, which just raised all sorts of red flags for her. Dawn had insisted on seeing a copy of the prophecy and her hackles raised even more when she found out how quiet Wes and Willow were trying to keep this. Looks like big sis came through however, and now it was time to give the man on the other line hell for keeping something this important from her.

 “Xand, honey, can you take Abby? Wes is on the phone and it’s time for her nap anyway.” Dawn said, reaching for the phone.

 “No!” Her one and a half your old screeched at the top of her lungs, making Dawn cringe. When they coined the phrase, ‘children are your parents secret revenge,’ they weren’t lying. Abigail was just like her too, even in looks.

 Xander came out of their shared office, a crooked and amused smile on his lips. “You should know by now not to say that word in front of her,” He said, kissing Dawn on the forehead before reaching out and swooping up their toddler. “Come on Abby,” he said as Dawn answered her call. “Daddy will read you your favorite story.”

 “Try to get Joyce down too,” She added, before saying into the phone, “Hello Wes, so good of you to finally call me.”

 She heard the groan on the other end of the line and smiled. “How much do you know?”

 “That there’s a prophecy about my sister and some uber-powerful guy she’s been spending time with, on your instruction I might add.” Dawn said in a mockingly sweet voice.

 She heard him sigh. “Yes, that is all true. Look Dawn, I’m going to send you a copy of the prophecy through your secure fax now. We’ve been able to translate some of it, but there are certain areas where…I don’t think the language is of this world. It’s nothing like we’ve ever seen in any human or demon writings before.”

 Dawn got up and walked into the office, a frown on her face. “You mean like interdimensional, there’s gotta be a reference somewhere Wes.”

 There was silence over the line and for a second and she thought Wes had hung up. She’d just opened her mouth to see if he was still there, when he finally said, “No Dawn, that’s not what I meant at all.”

 Her frown deepened as the first page spat out of the machine. She slid it off the rack and looked at the prophecy. There were several different languages written on the copy, Etruscan, Ancient Sumerian, Ancient Greek, and Latin. At the top were strange symbols unlike anything she’d ever seen before, almost flowing together like cursive. The next page that came out was Wesley and Willow’s translation of that page. She bit her lip, walking over to her desk and went to work making sure what they had translated so far was correct.

 “So,” she began casually, “what I’m getting from the first page is that this guy is much farther from home than just another dimension.” She paused, huffing in annoyance as she snootily added,” It was Sun God by the way, not Star God.” She sighed. “Who are you using anyway, Basile?”

 “Vonten,” He answered and Dawn rolled her eyes. Of course, he was using that moron’s guide.

 “Vonten is an arrogant prick Wes, that book confuses people more than it helps. Burn it, it’s better as kindling. Bachman is the best at Etruscan and Ancient Sumerian, and you already know Ancient Greek and Latin enough not to need a reference.” She said, before frowning as she came to the part about the soulbond. “Wes, what the hell is a soulbond, and why is this referencing my sister and Mr. E.T. having one?”

 As Wesley began to explain what they knew so far, Dawn's face began to pale. Oh, this was not of the good. Buffy was gonna wig to the nth degree when she found out.

 "Does she know any of this?" Dawn asked, turning around and grabbing more of the pages that were still spitting out of her printer.

 "She knows about the bond. I told her this morning." He answered.

 "And what, you’re waiting until she gets pregnant before you tell her the rest?" Dawn asked angrily. "You know this is gonna freak her out..."

 "Which is why I decided not to tell her." Wes interrupted.

 "If you'd let me finish," Dawn snapped, slamming her hand on the desk. "I was going to say this is gonna freak her out, but it would be better if you tell her now." She huffed in frustration. "This just proves how little you guys know my sister. She absolutely will freak and she'll probably fight it at first. Just the idea of her own children having to live the life she has, is not gonna be a happy, joyous moment for her. She's already worried that Joyce or Abby, or maybe even both will be called one day.” Dawn said, before emphasizing her next words, "However, my sister is not stupid, and when push comes to shove, she'll make the right decision like she always does. I get that you’re worried about the Slayer line Wes, we all are, but keeping this from her is not the right way to go about it.”

 She heard Wes’s sigh, “I realize that Dawn, but with the bond itself needing to be fulfilled, I thought that was more than enough for both of them to handle at this time.”

 Dawn looked at the pages covered in the strange flowing script, similar to the symbols on the first page. Wes was right, it was a language. "We need to find a way to translate this. Do you think this is Clark's language from his home world?"

The line was silent for a moment, before he said in annoyance, “Yes, that’s what I meant when I said I don’t think the language is of this world.”

 “Do you think Clark knows how to read it?” Dawn asked.

 A sigh came over the line, “I honestly don’t know. I believe he just discovered where he came from, so I don’t see how he could.” He paused in thought and then murmured to himself, “But even if he can’t, perhaps the ship has a historical archive or maybe there is some form of AI technology that could translate it for us.”

 Dawn frowned, “What ship?”

 As Wesley explained how Buffy and Clark met and the danger Buffy had recklessly put herself in, Dawn found her ire sparking at Buffy’s stupidity. “I’m gonna kill her!” Dawn growled. “She hasn’t done something that reckless since Joyce was born. God fucking dammit, she promised me!”

 Wesley sighed. “In her defense, it could have very well been her fate that made her act so rashly.” He paused before saying, “In any case, Clark was there and according to Buffy, he saved her and watched over her after she went into a healing sleep.”

 Dawn was quiet as she processed that information. So, she didn’t die, which meant Buffy actively tried to stop it from happening. That was good, she was still getting smacked when Dawn saw her, but at least she hadn’t completely broken her promise from three and a half years ago. It was also good to see that this godlike Champion the prophecy spoke of wasn’t just a creature with a penchant for destruction playing at being a white hat because of a curse. That was a nice change.

 “What else do you know about him?” Dawn asked. “I’m assuming you started trying to find him as soon as you started translating this.”

 “Well,” Wesley began, “We first caught wind of a possible candidate about a year ago. We’d been monitoring airwave chatter for possible beings with superhuman strength when we caught a lead. A distress call came in about an oil rig off the coast of Canada in flames and about to explode. In that communication there was talk of a man rescuing the crew members aboard the rig and preventing the tower from collapsing on the rescue helicopter with his bare hands.” He paused for a moment, before saying. “We managed to find a few other incidents of him saving people, one that happened when he was thirteen. According to the incident report, his school bus went off a bridge and into the river. Three witnesses stated that a young Clark Kent managed to push the bus out of the water and rescue his classmate.”

 Dawn whistled, “So this guy really is the real deal white knight, huh?”

 “It would appear so.” He sighed.

 “Wes we’re gonna need to access that ship.” Dawn said, looking over a small section of Sumerian that talked about a trial of choice. The rest of the page was in the alien script however, so any clue as to what that meant was beyond her.

 “I know,” Wesley agreed.

 “Which means, we’re gonna have to tell Buffy and Clark everything.” Dawn reiterated.

 She heard Wesley groan, but he conceded nonetheless. “Alright fine, Willow needs to bring them some pendants to stave off the worst of the compulsion the bond is creating. I’ll have her stop by and get you on her way, unless you want me to tell Buffy myself, that is.”

 Dawn shook her head, “No, no. I think it will be safer for everyone if I’m the one to do it.” Then she bit her lip in thought, “And don’t bother with Willow, just call me when she gets back. I think I need to do this one on my own.”

 “Very well,” Wes agreed. “Willow should be finished within the next few hours. I’ll call you as soon as I know she’s returned.”

 “Alright, in the meantime I’m gonna go over this and make sure all the parts I can read are translated correctly.” Dawn said, adding, "Talk in a few," before hanging up.

 She sighed, rubbing her fingers along her forehead. "Well fuck," she muttered to herself.

 "Everything alright?" Xander asked, coming into the office. 

 "No, not really," she answered handing him the translated first page of the prophecy.

 She watched his eye scan the words before he blew out a breath. "So, this guys an alien?"

 "Looks like." She answered.

 Xander snorted, "Man the Buffster really knows how to pick 'em, doesn't she?"

 Dawn mock glared, before she couldn't contain her amusement at the absurdity of the situation. "Well, you know Buffy. She doesn't do anything by halves."

 ****<S>**<S>****

 As Clark followed Buffy down the hallway, his thoughts were a jumbled mess. He knew she had been trying to reassure him, but her words only had the opposite effect. Were they only feeling any of what they were because of the prophecy and furthermore, given the choice, would she even choose him? She had basically confessed to falling in love with her best friend. The history they had both shared, as disturbing as it was, was an important one to her. She had cared very deeply for this man. How could he ever live up to the memory of a man who had essentially changed a piece of himself for her? Part of him wanted to erase Spike’s memory from her mind, to do whatever he could to drive this man, this demon from her past and another part of him just felt wholly lost. He didn’t want to be anyone’s second best and he certainly didn’t want her to want him only because some guy thousands of years ago decided they were destined. God, he wished his dad was still alive. This would definitely be the type of thing his dad could help him through.

 She stopped at a large set of double doors and turned, catching his expression before he had time to school it into a much more neutral one. She blinked in surprise, "Clark...what’s wrong?"

 He shook his head, “It’s nothing Buffy.”

 Her frown deepened, “Oh no, you definitely have something face. Talk to me. I promise whatever it is, I’ll try to understand.”

 Clark shifted uncomfortably, before finally admitting, “I’m just feeling a little unsure about all this.”

 Her eyes widened slightly, “Because of Spike?”

 Clark sighed, “Well I mean think about it Buffy. You basically told me that you fell in love with your best friend and were willing to marry him for eternity, but the only reason you didn’t is because you were too scared. Would you even look twice at me if he was here now? Are the feelings I’m having for you even real, or is this just destiny trying to force us together?”

 Realization flooded her expression, and she quickly shook her head. “I can’t speak for what-ifs, because I would be lying if I answered that either way…” She swallowed, “As for how you’re feeling, I’ve been under love spells before and granted you usually don’t know you’re under one when you are, but if the feeling’s part was being fabricated, we…we wouldn’t be able to fight this like we are. We would have probably already slept together.” She blushed, looking down. “Fabricated feelings they’re false obviously, but they’re very strong…strong enough to make people dangerous. If what we were feeling was a manifestation, you wouldn’t have these doubts Clark, you wouldn’t even realize there was doubts to be had.” She met his eyes then, her expression serious and stoic. “And as for the fear part, I didn’t want to get into it because…” She sighed again. “You remember how I told you that Angelus showed up right when I was starting to get my life back together?”

 Clark nodded, “I remember.”

 “Well, what I didn’t say is that I was planning on retiring.” She rolled her eyes, “I had this grand plan of going back to school and getting a degree in Art History and moving to Hawaii to open a gallery.” She shook her head, “It was stupid, I know.”

 He immediately shook his head, “That doesn’t sound stupid at all.”  

 Buffy blushed. “I just mean it was stupid that I ever thought it could happen.” She shook her head, “Anyway, I started training a girl named Rayanne when we were first getting the new Watchers Council on its feet. She was bright, witty, resourceful and she already had the makings of someone who could be an excellent leader.” She looked at her feet, her hands clenching. “Me and Giles had agreed, in three-years-time, when Ray was eighteen, she would step in and fill my shoes. Faith didn’t want the position and the only other possible candidate that actually did, I flat out refused due to her inability to get along with just about anyone but Willow. I mentored Ray for over a year and she became…well, like a little sister to me. After the whole General Voll fiasco, I was ready to promote her to Senior Slayer status. She had been on it more than any other girl at the compound, helpful and demanding when need be. She’d fought through a horde of zombies and we came out of it with zero losses. The attack was completely unexpected and if she hadn’t been there, I don’t know what I would have done.” She met his eyes, “I was so proud of her.” Buffy sighed, “A few months later is when the first girl, Alicia went missing, and by the time Ray disappeared, there were already six that seemed to have just dropped off the planet.” She swallowed, “Angelus revealed himself and killed Giles a few weeks later, and almost three weeks after is when we found Alicia. She was the first and youngest to go missing and she was the first he dropped on our doorstep.” Buffy shook her head squeezing her eyes shut, “I knew what he was doing to Rayanne then, and that she would probably get the worst of it because of her association with me. Alicia was just a taste of what Angelus was capable of.” She opened her eyes, meeting his. “I wanted to have Spike claim me so we would be strong enough to save her and the rest of them, and I was scared because I knew I’d be asking for the wrong reasons. I was afraid Spike would know it too and I would only hurt him by asking. Does that make sense?”

 It was Clark’s turn to avert his eyes. “Yes,” he said quietly.

 She pulled out her phone and began to scroll through it, “Well just in case you have any doubts…” She swallowed, “I don’t even know why I kept this. Angelus loved tormenting me and we didn’t know it at the time but there were several Watchers from the old regime who were very unhappy with the way we were running things. Some of them made deals with Angelus, gave out my email and phone number and my location.” She looked at him, her lips pursed in anger. “One of them would even take video or pictures, documenting my pain for him when he couldn’t be there hiding in the shadows to see it.” She handed him her phone, “I’ve never watched this one, it’s the morning I found Rayanne, he saved her for last. I don’t need to see it, I lived it.” She nodded at her phone, “When he sent it, I didn’t even open it. I just dropped it in an archive and it’s been there ever since.” She shook her head, “I highly recommend only opening the third video file, the one that says, ‘Are you broken yet?’ She met his eyes then, “The first two will be what he did to her. So, unless you feel like throwing up, I would skip those.” She gestured with her chin at the double doors. “I’ll be in there beating on a bag, meet me when you’re done.”

 She turned without another word and went through the double doors not looking back. Clark looked down at the phone swallowing heavily, before opening the file. The video began with the image of the front of a house, not unlike the one they were in now, except there was a large tree in front and something very obviously dangling from it. It looked to be sometime in the middle of the night or perhaps early morning, but he couldn't tell either way due to the lights on the house illuminating everything.

 The person carrying the camera ran towards the house and a refined British voice in distress yelled, "Ms. Summers, come quickly. I think it may be Miss Stevenson."

 The front door flew open and there she was, except she looked nothing like she did now, her eyes were wild, feral even, and she was so pale and sucked up. She looked hollow, worn-down, nothing like the girl he’d spent the last couple of days getting to know. The scream that tore from her lips and the look on her face when she saw what was hanging from the tree, tore through him like a tidal wave of emotion. Clark felt himself growing angry at the Watcher, who was obviously playing both sides. Another man with bleached hair and nothing on but a pair of black jeans came flying through the door next, his eyes wild and worried. 

 The camera panned and followed Buffy as she ran out to the tree, falling to her knees and screaming again. Clark saw what was in the tree then and his stomach almost rebelled right then and there. It was a young girl, no older than sixteen and the only skin left on her body was on her beautiful face and near her pelvic region. The girl’s expression was frozen in a horrified scream that no one who cared ever had the chance to hear. A large white sheet wrapped itself tightly around the girl’s wrists and tied over the lowest branch, the excess linen draping behind the dead girl as some sort of sick backdrop silhouette for the body hanging lifelessly from the tree. There was hardly any blood to speak of, just a pinkish residue from where the body had touched the clean white linen, which told Clark she had been dead for more than a few hours. It wouldn’t be visible to a human through the recording, but because of his enhanced vision Clark could even see puncture wounds in places and deep gashes from where the girl had been restrained.

 The blond man came into the picture then and the Watcher came towards them, circling around so he could see Buffy’s expression, or at least that’s what he assumed the person with the camera was doing. Buffy's mouth was open in silent gulping sobs, giant tears dripping down her cheeks.

 “Love,” The blond man whispered in an apparent British accent not nearly as refined as the Watchers Clark had heard so far. The man fell to his knees behind her looking up at the tree. He shuddered as tears sprang to his electric blue eyes. “Don’t look Buffy…please kitten, please go back in the house.”

 The man placed his hand on her shoulder, and Buffy turned at the gesture and Clark could no longer see her face as she flung herself into the man’s arms and began to sob harder. “It’s Ray,” she howled. “Oh god, it’s Ray.”

 “Shh,” The blond man hushed, rubbing hands along her back in a comforting gesture. “I know,” He choked. “I know, love.”

 “We…we can’t leave her like that.” She sobbed. “I-I have to get her down.”

 Clark watched the blond man close his eyes and shake his head, “I’ll do it. Go back in the house, please Slayer.”

 “No,” Buffy shook her head as Clark caught the silhouette of another man flying from the house and over to them. The sound of retching could be heard, and it took Clark a second to realize the sound came from whomever had just come from the house and seen the body. “It has to be me. Don’t you see, don’t you get it? I knew,” she sobbed. “I knew what he was doing to her and I didn’t do anything.”

 “Oh, sweet girl, you’ve been trying to find her. We all have. This isn’t your fault.” The man choked.

 “It’s not good enough,” She screamed, shoving away from him and falling on her rear, “And it is my fault, all of it! They were called because of me, because I was too chicken shit to just except the power that was offered to me!”

 A sob broke from her lips, and she turned looking directly at the cameraman a sudden realization dawning in her hollow eyes. “You!” She snarled, her eyes flashing. “It’s you, isn’t it?” She started marching towards the cameraman.

 “Ms.…Ms. Summers,” Whomever was holding the camera stuttered and then she was there, a well-aimed kick flying towards the camera before Clark saw sky for a few seconds.

 “I’ll kill you, you son of a bitch!” She screamed suddenly hovering over the man, the wild fury in her eyes telling Clark that she had every intention of killing this man, and part of Clark couldn’t agree more. “No one else but an Angelus minion would have called me out here for Rayanne! Everyone else would know better!”

 Clark watched as she threw a punch, the sickening sound of cartilage breaking ringing through the speaker as the guy howled in pain. The way her arms were angled next and the gurgling sound through the phone told him she was choking the man before three sets of arms suddenly grabbed her, pulling her off. Clark could hear the man wheeze as he tried to catch his breath while Buffy screamed and fought the three people who had pulled her away. Faith was one of them, and then the blond man, which Clark was pretty sure by now was Spike, and another man, tall, brunet, with an eyepatch. He saw Willow in the distance coming towards them and when she reached them, she touched Buffy’s shoulder before she could react and muttered a few words that sounded like Latin. Buffy suddenly collapsed and Clark realized Willow had put her to sleep. All eyes then turned towards the cameraman.

 “Get her in the house, Xander.” Spike growled.

 “Uh, Spike–” Xander started to say when Spike turned on him.

 “Get her in the bloody fucking house, now!” He snarled, a sound like grinding bone emanating from the man as his voice altered to something more sinister. “I’m not going to kill him.” He said turning back towards the camera as two glowing amber eyes stared at Clark.

 “Speak for yourself,” Faith said marching towards the man. “I’ve been getting those fucking emails too.”

 “So have I,” Willow said, her eyes black as she stared the camera down.

 “We won’t have to kill him,” Spike clarified as he fell in step with Faith. “Angelus will do that for us.”

 “How you figure?” Faith asked, her eyes just as enraged as Buffy’s had been.

 Spike suddenly sprung forward, his arm reaching out and a ripping sound emanated as the man screamed. His hand came back with what looked like a wad of hair. “This enough Red?”

 “Plenty,” Willow said, sudden realization dawning in her black eyes.

 “Now,” Spike said, a sinister grin stretching his fanged mouth, to the whimpering man. “The way I figure it, you got three options. The first being, you can go back to Angelus and give him this tape, at which point he finds out we now have a way to track you, and oh trust me Marcus, he will most definitely kill you for that.” Clark heard the man begin to sob, and part of him wanted to turn off the video at that point but couldn’t look away at the furious amber eyes that stared back at the camera. “Option number two, you can destroy the tape and run, which if we’re being honest would be the preferable of the three, but I’m sure you are well aware of the kind of wrath he would bring down on you if he didn’t get to see his almost masterpiece complete, so I’m sure you won’t.” Spike’s hand suddenly flew forward and the man screamed in pain, “Or option three,” He growled, “Where you run like a coward and keep the tape for leverage, hoping that your usefulness hasn’t run its course.”

 He suddenly had the camera in his hands, staring directly into the screen his eyes burning into the lens. “Looks like your mole got ousted. This is your last one, Angelus. We’re coming for you and when we’re done there won’t be anything left.” The screen suddenly went black as the video cut off.

 Clark let out a trembling breath looking around him and realizing he had slid to the floor at some point, his heart pounding in his chest. God, he didn’t know, he didn’t understand until that moment. That poor girl, no wonder Buffy was desperate. How many girls did she find like that before this one was left for her? How many videos did she force herself to endure before this one was sent, even Faith and Willow had said this wasn’t the first one? Clark squeezed his eyes shut, she had told him, so had Gunn but to see it. She was driven half-crazy by what that vampire had done and he could not blame her for that. What would he do if it was his mother in that position? God, he could only imagine.

 He shakily got to his feet, listening as he heard the sound of a fist hitting leather, he walked to the doors and threw them open, not stopping when she paused to look at him. He had to reassure himself that she was okay, that she wasn’t that angry creature that he saw in the video. He went straight to her, his arms coming around her in a crushing embrace before his lips met hers. God, she was so strong, he didn’t realize how much until that moment. Buffy immediately melted into him, her lips parting for him as he slid his tongue into her mouth. She was such a small woman, everything about her was deceptively tiny, except her strength and fortitude both physically and emotionally. To go through what she had and still be able to function on a normal level was just short of a miracle.

 He pulled away and looked down into her green eyes, haunted by her past but not dead and hateful like in the video. He bent down and laid his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. “I…” He started, “I didn’t…I’m so sorry Buffy.” He whispered, and he could still feel himself trembling. “I didn’t… You hear words like torture, rape, and murder but–”

 “They’re not real until you see it for yourself.” She finished in understanding.

 Clark sighed, hugging her closely, her head resting against his chest. “I get it now, not…but I understand how desperate you must have been to try and save the girls from that.”

 He heard her sniffle, “I didn’t know what else to do. I watched all the others you know, even…even what he did to them. It was my fault, you see; those girls lost their lives because they had a connection to me.” She shook her head, “If they hadn’t been called, they would still be alive today.”

 Clark pulled away and used his hand to raise her chin so he could see her eyes, “You blame yourself for every one of them that dies no matter how it happens, don’t you?”

 She closed her eyes a shuddering breath hissing through her lips, before she opened them, meeting his gaze head on. “How can I not?”

 He sighed, hugging her close again and shook his head. He had no response to that; he didn’t think she should. He didn’t think it was healthy, but he didn’t want to get in an argument about it with her right now either.

 They stayed like that for a little while before she whispered, “You’re shaking.”

 Clark nodded. “I know, the video…I’m still upset.”

 She pulled away, meeting his eyes again. “Do you want me to show you how to throw a punch properly? The heavy bags have been warded well, we can start there.” She looked down, “It will…it will help relieve some of what you’re feeling at least.”

 “Yeah,” He nodded in agreement. “Yeah, okay.”

 ****<S>**<S>****

 To say Clark was a fast learner when it came to training would have been the understatement of the year. He was an absolute natural. He moved with precision and grace, sometimes striking so fast she almost didn't see him move. 

 As of now she was simply holding the bag for him as he got comfortable with the rhythm of landing punches and even with the wards on the bag, she could feel the impact of his strikes. At this rate she would need her suit within a few days to let him get the feel of fighting a moving target. At some point she might even bring him back to Cleveland to put him up against multiple fighters and see how he did.

 "Remember to move your feet,” She reminded. "A moving target is harder to hit."

 He nodded, bounced on the balls of his feet and struck, the impact of the punch making her bones rattle. "Whoa, nice one Clark." She laughed, "Felt that one in my toes."

 He grinned, striking the bag again harder. "You were right," he said casually in between punches. "This does help."

 She grinned, "Nothing like getting your aggression out with a bit of violence." And then she blushed, smirking, "Well almost nothing." 

 He chuckled as he threw a few more punches in quick succession, his own smirk forming on his lips. He had a mischievous look in his eyes and had just opened his mouth to comment when Buffy’s phone rang.

 Buffy sighed, releasing the bag. "That will either be Wes or Willow."

 It was now around three in the afternoon; Clark had told her he had to pick his mom up at six and it was an hour drive to Smallville from where they were. So, she was grateful that they were going to be able to get this taken care of before meeting his mom.

 Buffy walked over to her phone and answered. "Hey Wes," she said in greeting. "What's the haps?"

 He was silent for a moment and she could almost hear him roll his eyes at her butchering of the English language. "Willow," He began, "should be there shortly. Dawn would also like to see you. I told her I would call her once Willow was done securing the pendants."

 Buffy frowned, “What? Why?”

 “Dawn and I have come to the conclusion that one of the languages in the prophecy that I have been unable to identify, is most likely written in the script of Clark’s home world.” He paused, “We are going to need access to the ship, unless of course Clark can read it.”

 Buffy looked at Clark and raised an eyebrow, but he quickly shook his head. “Only a few words,” He confirmed. “I think the computer on the ship might be able to translate it though.”

 “That’s a negative, Wes,” Buffy answered, beginning to pace. “But he agrees that the computer on the ship should be able to do the job.”

 “Very well, I’ll inform Dawn to dress accordingly. The ship is still in the same location I presume?” He asked.

 “Whoa,” Buffy said halting her steps, realizing what he was suggesting. “You want us to go tonight? Clark has to pick up his mom from work, Wes.”

 “I think it would be for the best. The sooner we get this prophecy translated, the better.” He paused. “Lorne told me I needed to send out more Slayers to India, Kansas, and Metropolis within the next two weeks and I would very much like to know if I should be sending two or a few hundred. If this prophecy gives any indication of what’s to come, I would very much like to know what it is.”

 Buffy and Clark exchanged worried looks. “He only told me something was coming for Clark, and we’re gonna need all hands-on deck when it does.”

 Buffy watched Clark swallow nervously. “He told me my time for hiding was almost up, but he said it was in the coming month.” His eyes widened in realization. “We need to translate that prophecy.”

 Buffy nodded in agreement, “And I need to train you harder than just beating on a bag, which means it’s gonna be eight-hour days from here on out.” Clark opened his mouth to argue and she held up her hand, “We’ll get as much as we need to do in the mornings done, but if for whatever reason we can’t, I would loan you the money before I would let you lose your home.”

 Clark frowned, “Buffy–”

 “Take it from someone who knows what those kinda money troubles feel like,” She interrupted again. “I think in the scheme of things saving the world is a little more important than pride, don’t you?”

 His frown deepened. “You think it’s going to be that big?”

 “Lorne said all hands-on deck and it’s you. Someone coming after you has got to be as powerful, if not more.” She watched his face fall and reached out her hand out running it down his arm, “You’ll be ready, and now that we have a general idea of where this stuff might take place, we’ll all be even more prepared.”

 “Wes,” she said, addressing the Watcher once more. “Were gonna need Willow to keep close, and I would call Illyria back from Cairo.”

 “I agree,” Wesley said, just as a portal opened up and Willow walked through. Her smile melting away at the look on both Buffy and Clark’s faces.

 “Uh-oh,” Willow said nervously. “I know that face.”

 “Is that Willow?” Wesley asked over the line.

 “Yeah,” Buffy said.

 “Let me speak with her, please.”

 Buffy held out the phone to Willow, who frowned but took it anyway. “Hey Wes,” Willow said in greeting as Buffy walked over to where Clark was standing looking more than a little worried.

 “Hey,” she said quietly.

 He attempted to smile but he couldn’t pull it off. “Hey, yourself.”

 She bit her lip watching him, seeing the turmoil play across his face of having an unknown enemy out there that could be responsible for hurting others when they decided to rear their ugly heads. She didn’t blame him, if she needed to pull out her big guns as Lorne hinted then it could definitely get bad. She was optimistic however, because of what she’d had to face in her past. Clark didn’t have that same luxury.

 “I-I know you’re not exactly used to going up against big bads, or having to fight gods,” she started. “But I promise you Clark, no matter what it is we’ll deal with it together. Tonight, I’ll have my sister meet us at your place and we’ll go to the ship and find out what this prophecy says. Whatever’s coming, we’ll deal. I promise you; we won’t lose.”

 “How do you know?” He asked, a bit of hope showing in his eyes.

 She stared at him seriously, “Because I don’t lose when it’s the world.”

 His lips quirked slightly, and he opened his mouth to say something when Willow walked up to them. “Wes wants me to fit you for a suit,” She said to Clark, handing Buffy her phone before saying, “And, he wants to talk to you.”

 As Buffy reached for the phone Clark said, “I already have a suit and it’s Kryptonian.”

 Both Buffy and Willow blinked in surprise at his words, their voices ringing out in unison. “You do?”

 He nodded, “Yeah, it’s on the ship still, but I have one.”

 Willow smiled, “Well then, that’s gonna make this quicker. Can you bring it to me? I can enhance it with magic, add some safety features and protect you against the mystical.”

 “Will that still work, even if the material isn’t of Earth?” He asked.

 “Yeah Wes,” Buffy finally said into her phone, pulling herself away from the conversation. So, Clark already had a suit, she wondered what it looked like.

 “So, for the time being I’m going to send fifty Slayers to each location, but keep the others on standby incase things go pear-shaped.” He said, already planning ahead. “I’ll also be moving quite a few closer to all three locations, that way all the girls have backup nearby. I think Willow should stay there at the safehouse that way she’s not far from either of you.”

 “And Dawn, Xander, and the kids? They live in Metropolis after all.” Buffy asked.

 “Perhaps you should explain the situation to her when she gets there. Staying there at the safe house with Willow might also be a wise move for them.” Wes said, adding, “As well as a few Slayers. I know Faith’s been itching to get out of Cleveland for a mission, maybe she and a few of the other girls should accompany her.”

 “Just as long as it’s not Tanya, that girl’s a liability and she doesn’t listen to anyone.” Buffy said.

 “I concur,” Wesley agreed. “Only the girls who are focused and dedicated will be allowed to participate in this mission. I would like as little casualties as possible.”

 “I agree,” Buffy nodded, “What about the mystics, how many of those can we tap?”

 “I have sixty-eight on file, I’ll start making phone calls now.”  He sighed. “I’m just glad we have this much to go on.”

 “Me too,” Buffy agreed. “I’ll call Dawn when Willow gets done here and tell her where to meet us and to put on her suit and a warm hat.”

 “Very well,” he said. “Call me when you know more and I’ll begin the preparations.”

 Buffy hung up, walking back over to Willow and Clark as they spoke to each other a bit awkwardly. “So, let’s get this over with Wills.”

 Willow quickly nodded opening a small bag she brought with her. “So,” she said quickly. “These were a bit difficult to make since from what we’ve read the compulsion itself seems to be based purely on hormones as well as a need to unite your souls.” She looked at them both, “It took me a little while to find what I needed and even longer to put the spell together.” She sighed, “The pendants themselves will be made out of several crystals used to block compulsion, amethyst, ametrine, chrysocolla, and ruby.”

 Willow pulled out two small corked vials filled with multicolored stones and handed them to both Buffy and Clark. “Now, hold out your hands and link your free ones together.”

 Buffy and Clark did as she asked, holding their hands out palm up. Willow placed a vial in each of their hands and then covered them with her own hands, closing her eyes and beginning to chant. Buffy immediately began to feel her hand heat up and for a second it almost became unbearable and Buffy even watched Clark wince from the heat. It was gone just as quickly however and in its place were two hard looking marble like multicolored stones with a dark metallic chain that would hang from each of their necks. Buffy heard Willow mutter one more spell that she recognized to be a ward against breaking.

 “Well go on.” Willow said smiling happily at her work. “Try them on, see if it worked.”

 Buffy quickly slipped the necklace over her head and a sigh of relief left her lips. The sexual tension that had never fully abated her all day finally easing enough to where she wasn’t thinking about sex every few seconds.

 Clark had a similar reaction, his face seeming to ease slightly, but Buffy was surprised when he turned to Willow and asked, “You said the compulsion is only based on hormones, does that mean any feeling we have that aren’t sexual are real?”

 Willow nodded, “Of course, real love is something that can only be based off of free will. Its why love spells don’t ever work. You can’t force someone to love you.”

 Buffy watched amused as Clark seemed to sigh in relief, and then quickly blushed when he noticed her watching him. “Come on stud,” she said hooking her arm through his and dragging him towards the door of the training room. “Let me go grab my stuff before we go get your mom,” a grin creeping over her face as she turned and wished Willow a good night and a promise to catch up tomorrow. “And for the record”, she added quietly as they walked out of the training room. “I still want to jump you, that hasn’t changed even with the necklace on.”

 He quickly reached out to grab her arm, but she easily dodged him and took off down the hallway, a blush and a giggle leaving her lips.

 Clark was suddenly there in front of her, a crooked and devilish smile on his lips. “Is that so?” And then his lips were on hers, his tongue sliding into her mouth as she squealed in surprise.

[sorceressferaly]

Hello fellow Mayalexer. I’d like to know what you think the long term consequences of the Ashland Volcano erupting would be? Sincerely, definitely not someone chronicling Jorvik.

Hello fellow Mayalex person who is definitely not a friend in real life to whom I hinted at that I wanted to answer this very question!

Something that is pretty interesting about large-scale volcanic eruptions is that they cause a lasting effect on the climate for the years to come.

"Little ice-ages" is a phenomenon that can be caused partially by volcanic eruptions, as the ashes linger in the stratosphere and block solar radiation. This leads to worldwide global cooling, which has resulted in harsh winters and poor harvests in the past.

In this post, I will compare a theoretical eruption of Garnok’s Fury with the eruption of an Icelandic volcano in 536, which had devastating consequences globally.

Warning: This might get pretty dark.

The year 536, volcanic eruptions were likely to be - or at the very least a major contributor to - the cause of a "darkening of the sky" where volcanic sulfur and particles coated the skies of the entire northern hemisphere and led to a major drop in temperatures for the next decade.

Catastrophic for the people alive by that time, and in the Mediterranean area a terrible plague named the Plague of Justinian* followed in the wake of the harsh conditions, killing millions.

“During this year a most dread portent took place. For the sun gave forth its light without brightness … and it seemed exceedingly like the sun in eclipse, for the beams it shed were not clear.” - Procopius, Byzantine historian, regarding the disastrous year 536.

Volcanic eruptions pose a danger stretching far beyond the initial eruption. Garnok's Fury would indeed have consequences of global reach!

So what would that mean for Jorvik? Well, if we consider that the consequences of the eruptions of 536 have been speculated by religious scholars to potentially be the source of myths such as the Fimbulvinter**, I think we can say that Jorvik is in for their very own ice age.

However, it's difficult to predict climate change directly in Jorvik, since the climate on the island is influenced not only by volcanic energy but very much by the inherent magic that exists on the island.

For this reason, while I believe that Jorvik wouldn't be covered in ice that would make the island completely uninhabitable, the people of Jorvik would be in for a harsh time.

The most immediate effect, as I mentioned in my previous post, would be the destruction of the dam in the Great Reservoir, which is said to provide most of the electricity and drinking water in Jorvik.

While we don't know the exact size or volume of the Great Reservoir, we know that Lisa describes it as more of an ocean than a dam, and old Jorvegian tales have said that it is bottomless. "Bottomless" is a bit difficult to calculate though, so to find a real-life Jorvik comparison, I'm going to look at a pretty big dam instead.

Karahnjukavirkjun in Iceland is capable of generating 4600 GWh of power annually, which according to the US Bureau of Reclamation is enough to provide electricity to about 1.5 million people. Since the population of Jorvik is likely below a million as Jorvik is supposed to be a relatively small and overlooked island nation on the world stage (only about 350.000 people live on Iceland) this one generator should cover most of Jorvik’s needs.

However, Karahnjukavirkjun is meant to generate power to the Icelandic aluminum industry. Aluminum production requires a ridiculous amount of energy... but Jorvik has no such industry. In fact – Jorvik doesn’t seem to host much of an industry at all!

I asked @jorvegian-chronicler for a second opinion on the industries of Jorvik, and besides raising horses and manufacturing equipment for equestrian needs, it seems like the largest industries on Jorvik would likely be the drilling/mining of natural resources such as oil/gas and fishing/farming second. These industries would have far less need of energy than aluminum production, and thus, the Great Reservoir may be the only source of hydroelectric power production on Jorvik.

However, hydroelectric power is not the only power source on Jorvik. Just like Iceland, Jorvik is likely to have access to a great amount of geothermal power and may use that to provide central heating - which the Jorvegians will likely need once the sky goes dark. There are also the aforementioned great reserves of oil and gas around the island, but it seems like these resources are mainly mined by private companies and not used by the state to provide additional electricity (which they wouldn’t need anyway), so most of the fossil fuels produced on Jorvik might be export only.

Aside from electricity, Linda states in Darkness Falling that most of the drinking water in Jorvik comes from the Great Reservoir. The only canonical area we know that has its own water supply is Dundull and with no more information available we must assume that it is indeed the only local source of drinking water, and all larger settlements such as Jorvik City and Jarlaheim are completely dependent on the Great Reservoir.

We can also make the fairly safe assumption that any farmers on Jorvik rely on an irrigation system powered by freshwater from the Great Reservoir.

Armed with this knowledge (read: qualified guesswork) we can now start speculating what will happen in Jorvik’s own day after tomorrow.

When the dam breaches, it will release an enormous flood of water that will crush everything in its way, eliminating any settlements in the direction of the tidal wave of water that will mercilessly flow out of the broken dam. Canonical locations affected would be Meander Village and Pine Hill Manor. They would likely have some time available for evacuation, but so much for Mr. Sands.

The second effect would be the failure of most of the Jorvegian power grid. While central heating might be covered by geothermal power plants, light, household apparatuses, computers, and various entertainment systems would be shut down. There might be enough emergency power to provide power for an emergency broadcast or low-level lighting, but this emergency power wouldn’t last forever.

If Jorvik has any coal or oil-powered plants, they’d need to start working overtime to fill the power vacuum. However, with Jorvik being very environmentally conscious I believe they would have decommissioned most of the fossil-fueled power plants.

The third effect would be the loss of clean drinking water. You never realize how much water you use until the tap dries up. Mistfall lake seems to be an independent water source, and Silversong River could likely be fueled by meltwater from Dino Valley, but the largest cities in Jorvik – Jorvik City and Jarlaheim – would be without clean water.

There are wells placed around Jorvik that still would be fine to use, but those wells are mainly intended to provide water for the horses in Jorvik, not to provide water for the humans in the cities.

It seems odd to place all the eggs in a single basket by relying so much on this one dam, but I’m not one to question Linda on her knowledge of Jorvegian infrastructure.

A likely consequence is that the Jorvegians that can do so should seek their way to the countryside and smaller settlements. Any village with wells present has a source of groundwater which Jorvik City does not.

The Jorvegian government will have to arrange for water to be transported from other sources, and since Jorvik City is close to Dundull, giant tank trucks would likely be sent into the Mistfall national park in order to transport some of that water back to Jorvik City. . Perhaps GED can make a fortune here by selling Go! Energy Drinks?

Local wells wouldn’t be enough to support large-scale irrigation of agriculture, however, and it would be likely that harvests would fail all around Jorvik that year, as there wouldn’t be enough water available to provide enough for an agricultural industry.

This would be a huge hit to Jorvik’s economy, which relies on the fertile land for a large number of crops, and we all know that it doesn’t seem to rain nearly enough on Jorvik to make up for the loss of irrigation water.

If the harvests would be bad the first year, the subsequent years will be even worse, as the sun will be blocked out by volcanic particles which will lead to a cooldown over the entire northern hemisphere. Reports from the year 536 speak about crop failures and a “failure in bread”, implying that the large amounts of grain grown on Jorvik may not survive the colder climate.

Failing crops and poor harvests will lead to a huge economic deficit not only for the agricultural industry but for the equestrian industry as well. Much of the crops grown on Jorvik are not meant for the human population to consume, but rather to feed Jorvik’s obsession with the equestrian industry.

With an agricultural industry in decline over the next few years, it follows that the equestrian industry can no longer be supported to the same extent.

Several of the horse breeds imported to Jorvik over time may not have the build to survive the colder climate at this time and would need to be transported away from the island. Indigenous and cold-resistant breeds may have better luck, but with no agricultural industry to support them, it’s likely that the equestrian industry as a whole would need to downsize.

This would indirectly impact Jorvik’s tourism industry, as fewer young people would be spending their summer vacation in Jorvik for several years. In fact, Jorvik would likely not experience another summer for years to come!***

On the upside, Jorvik’s glue industry has a bright future ahead.

Fortunately, the fishing and fossil fuel industries wouldn’t be nearly as badly affected by the disaster. With crops failing, the fishing industry would be even more paramount for domestic food production, and Cape West might grow from a small fishing village to a large harbor to support the increased needs for fishing and shipping.

The fossil fuel industries would have to be relied on to provide domestic energy production until the dam can be rebuilt, as well as powering the boats used by the fishing industry.

This increased need for domestic use of fossil fuels would likely hurt Jorvik’s ability to export said fossil fuels, which may have far-reaching consequences globally, as peace never tends to be an option once oil is on the table. It’s unlikely that Jorvik makes up a major part of the global fossil fuel production, but such a sudden change in the worldwide fossil fuel distribution would likely have some consequences on the global market.

With the equestrian and agricultural industries failing, and the fishing and fossil fuel industries taking on more importance, more of Jorvik’s workforce would likely move to work in the industries that can offer them jobs. Carl Peterson is an experienced oil rig worker and would likely be forced to accept a job in the fossil fuel industry, leading to the Starshine Ranch falling into ruin.

Other people may be forced to leave Jorvik entirely, as the failure of the equestrian industry would mean the loss of tens of thousands of jobs in the whole country.

The construction industry would likely be staying strong. There would be a need to rebuild the dam around the Great Reservoir. Construction on the Kárahnjúkar Dam took five years to complete, so we may be looking at a similar timeframe. Hopefully, they will build it to be sturdier this time as to not break as soon as some Sun Circle teenager opens a portal to Pandoria, and also construct some backup plans in the other lakes around Jorvik.

All in all, there would doubtlessly be many years of hardship to face on Jorvik. Hardships that I’m not sure that druidic magic could help with as we’re assuming a completely natural eruption not caused by Garnok and the Hell Portal.

Linda may still be able to foresee the eruption, but if she’d try to warn anyone, she’d likely get the Cassandra**** treatment. Of course, perhaps there is something that the Soul Riders could do to stop it. We don’t know all of the magic that runs through Jorvik, and honestly, I’m sure Linda can find some ritual to banish the initial volcanic eruption to the moon. Moon Circle OP.

There would be a light at the end of the tunnel, as the sun would gradually grow stronger as the particles fade away, and warm, pleasant summers with plentiful harvests would return to Jorvik.

...

Whew, that was pretty dark.

These kinds of events tend to have far-reaching consequences, and I barely even touched on how the political, cultural, and social development could turn out following the eruption, destruction of the dam, and the long winter.

The forces of nature can be great and terrible, and I don’t think most of us tend to reflect on the awesome power of volcanoes nearly often enough. We are but specks of dust in comparison to the movement of the continental plates and the forces of the Earth. Hopefully, we will learn how to master them yet.

Thanks for reading – now please get some water, have a snack, and read something more lighthearted.

*Poor Justinian. For all he did as a Roman Emperor, his name lives on in a plague. Constantine got a city named after him. Julius and Augustus Ceasar each got a month. Justinian got the plague. That's rough, buddy.

**Fimbulvinter is the harsh winter that ends almost all life on Midgård and is the harbinger of Ragnarok in Norse mythology. It has been theorized that this myth was based on stories of harsh winters without any summers in between, that were passed down in oral tradition as tales of the future. Winter is coming, anyone?

***On the other hand, many might be happy that snow in Jorvik is finally back. Why let a little hemispherical disaster get in the way of enjoying the year-long winter?

****Cassandra was a seer and priestess of Apollo in the Illiad myth, cursed with the power to utter completely true prophesies but never be believed. I think Linda relates to her a lot on a personal level.

[incorrect-obeyme]

Lesson 39 & 40 Spoilers!

Hello hello! I figured that because the two lessons are connected, I’ve decided to talk about both of them! Horary! 

Heads up this is super long post! (Crossing fingers that the keep reading function is working!)

After the situation with your powers and 3 worlds, Diavolo holds a party in his castle.

You dance with Diavolo and he tells you how he’ll be able to look to you as his guiding light (AAAAAAA MY HEART)

He wanted to tell you that he hopes to stay by your side and right when he is about to finish that sentence, the song finishes. He holds your hand tighter and asks you if you want to dance with him again. OF COURSE DIAVOLO ILL DANCE WITH YOU AGAIN

The next day, you noticed that Lucifer is even closer with his brothers now after that whole amnesia situation (cute!)

Sadly, we find out that we have to leave Devildom AGAIN. 

Asmo suggested that you should go to Diavolo’s castle yourself and tell him that you want to stay in Devildom.

Sadly, he couldn’t do that, saying that we are only human beings and that we have our own lives in the human realm (i don’t have a life please send me down there)

After your failed plan, you talk to Solomon!

He explains that “if a demon chooses something dear to them at the time, and gives it to a human”, you can summon them across worlds at any time!

He also explains that the gift Asmo gave to him was a giant oil painting of himself LMAO

Anyways, you head off and ask the brothers about what is something that is most dear to them! This is where you can kiss them or hug them depending on what answer you pick!

Here’s a recap of what they give you (order by how the lesson was laid out):

Satan: The book when he and Lucifer switched bodies

Tells you that the book that set in motion a series of events that he will never forget

Asmo: Pictures of you and him

You both decided to take a bunch of pictures together

Before this, he tells you that what he treasures most is himself or you 

Belphie: His star

Tells you that you’re the only person he’d be willing to give it to

He also mentions how each brother has their own star (aww!)

Whenever he looks up to the sky and sees the stars, it makes him feel how his family is nearby

Now this concludes Lesson 39, now off to Lesson 40!

Levi: The script where we performed at the RAD festival + Simeon signature!

He explains to you that what makes this script important to him is not because it was autographed or written by the author of the TSL series, but a keepsake of his time with you

Beel: His star (twins!!)

Because those stars are family to him

He wishes that you had a star up there with the others

He also tells you that he used to the leader of Lucifer’s personal bodyguard and he will always be ready to be your bodyguard whenever you need him

Mammon: His keychain where you both bought a matching pair during that time when you went to the human world

Mammon tells you that the keychain is more important than money (goodbye i'm gonna cry)

Also tells you that he wouldn’t give to anyone, no matter how much money they offered him for it

Lucifer: His ring aka the ring of light!

He’s happy that his ring is protecting you and keeping you safe

If you answer that you want to stay in Devildom, he replies saying, 

“You belong in the human world. There is no changing that. However, if your real wish isn’t “to stay in the Devildom,” but rather “for all of us to be together,” well… That we can do. We’ll stay by your side until you’re sick of us. We’d never let you go… I’d never let you go. You must know that, right?”

Now, we’re counting down the final days in Devildom!

The next day, you’re in Purgatory Hall with Solomon, Luke, and Simeon! 

Luke talks about his dessert and Simeon asks Luke that rather than heading back to the Celestial Realm, they can visit the Human World instead!

Of course, Solomon talks about if they do visit the Human World, he’ll promise that he will cook up some meals and everyone was like, “yeah no thanks” (poor solomon)

Leaving Purgatory Hall, Luke runs after you!

He tells you how he likes the Devildom and how pretty nighttime could be here (since the Celestial Realm is the complete opposite)

Luke talks about how he has to head to the Demon Lord’s castle about sharing (I think?) a recipe with Barbatos and asks you if you can come with him!

When you arrive, you meet up with Diavolo!

He asks you if you have time to spare because he wants to talk to you about something (heLL YEAH DIAVOLO OF COURSE)

You both head to the garden, where he asks you if you remember the time back where you were alone with him and how he was talking about negative things because he was unsure of himself (think this was about Lucifer & how close we were with the bros? I don’t remember exactly sorry oahsogias)

Anyways, he confesses (he’s blushing in this part) that he doesn’t want you to go either. He also states, 

“I’m not speaking as the next king of the Devildom, or even as a demon, I’m speaking as myself.” (YOU GO DIAVOLO)

Right when he was about to tell you something, LUKE BARGES IN (LUKE WHY)

The next day, you roam around the House of Lamentation, remembering your moments here before you leave. You head to the diner and BOOM, the brothers + the undateables surprise you with a party! Diavolo magically changes the scenery and you all dance together!

You go outside and meet up with Solomon, Luke, and Simeon

Luke confesses that after he saw you doing amazing things here, he realizes that he wants to make some changes to himself

“I realized that it isn’t right to condemn someone just because they’re a demon.” (LUKE! YOU GROWN SO MUCH!!)

Both Luke and Simeon want to be your guardian angels!

Fastwording the final day, you wake up in a pitch-black area and you hear whispers

Turns out you were kidnapped by the brothers in a sack

Back in lesson 39, Asmo discussed a plan to make your stay in the Devildom, so I’m guessing this is it?

The plan was that the brothers will kidnap you so you can all run away together by exiting a secret passage in the House of Lamentation

Sadly, that plan was ruined when you encounter Diavolo and Barbatos when you reach the end

Lucifer arrives late, but he tells Diavolo that also agreed to this whole escape plan as well

Diavolo then tells everyone that he wants us to be human (not a demon or an angel) and that us to work with him to bring harmony to the 3 worlds

Barbatos opens the passageway and each of the brothers says their goodbyes

Asmo’s VA, Miura Ayme, sings a sad song here and I literally started crying for 10 minutes

ROLL THE CREDITS

Shoutout to @/faikittyy for playing the hardmode for lesson 40!

After a few days when you left the Devildom, Lucifer tells the brothers that they were heading to the Human World to visit you (AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA)

AND THAT’S ALL FOLKS! Round of applause to the devs and the VA’s for working so hard on this game! Season 2 is over! Hope you enjoyed this summary! 

[sebbybooks]

Never Mine

Sebastian Stan x Fanfiction

Part One

"With my dog as my witness, to whoever was riding my ass if they didn't back off my bumper I was going to stop in the middle of the road and rip their windshield wipers completely off!"

That type of anger coiled around me like a snake, because there was nothing that bugged me more than someone driving bumper to bumper. The long and exasperated breath I just released helped ease the tension out of my body temporarily. Just in time for reason to settle in. Though in reality it wasn't like I was actually going to jump out of my car and confront this road demon. Who clearly needed to take a course on etiquettes of the road. What I did know was that whoever was behind the wheel of the car had headlights that were so blinding I am sure extraterrestrials in space could spot them.

Trying to find the calm in the situation I focused on the road ahead of me. What little road I could see for that matter. Which wasn't exactly much. I had checked the forecast earlier in the day with the report of it showing that there was to be only clear and blue skies. By the amount of downpour before me you would think there was a tear in the sky if that was how rain fell. I just needed to hang tight for a few more miles until I reached my exit to stop for the night.

I had been driving for nine consecutive hours and it wasn't until the third hour I realized I was not cut out for long distance driving. The plane ticket I turned down from my father was starting to look like a missed opportunity. I opted out for Cooper's sake. I just rescued the little guy a few short weeks ago and I didn't have the heart to leave him alone so soon.

Despite having only six more hours of this painful drive I needed out of my car. A hot shower and a bed was calling my name like a siren's call was to a dazed sailor at sea. I was fervidly drawn to it. Granted, I wasn't exactly going the speed limit in my own defense. Simply because I chose to be a cautious driver not a careless one unlike the dip shit behind me. Cooper and I were going to get to Sonoma, California in one piece if I had anything to do with it! I had no intention to speed in the rain even if it annoyed the person behind me. After all I was driving down a one lane road there was literally nothing else I could do but drive forward.

Taking a glance up at my trusty Garmin my gps projected that at this rate I wouldn't make it to my hotel for another hour and a half. Ahead of me the sky was starting to look like a terrifying shade of gray and to top it off the dismal weather was becoming more and more hard to drive in. I could barely see the paint on the pavement. My defrosters seemed to have given up on me as I began to notice that my rearview mirror fogged up as though it was twilight hour.

I needed to pull over to try to wait out the heavy rainfall. The only problem was that I did not know where I was nor could I see where the road even had an end. The cheap gas station coffee was starting to wear off and the pep talks could no longer motivate me. The words of encouragement quickly transitioned into self deprecating quips of "I can not fucking do this!"

I was too far from home to turn back now and hearing a lecture from my dad despite being well beyond the ages of even receiving one, certainly would not stop him from scolding at my absence. I am more than certain that fiancée number three would not mind if I missed their prenuptial celebration. Especially if arriving on time meant I would be showing up dismembered. It was official I was going to die in this storm.

All of sudden like I called upon a bad omen my tiny Kia Forte jerked forward. I thought I accidentally stomped on the gas pedal too hard without realizing it. When it happened again I knew exactly what it was. Clearly the driver had mistaken this for a game of bumper cars. I laid the palm of my hand on the center of my steering wheel and relentlessly pressed my horn. Not sure what that was going to necessarily ward off , but I had to try something in the efforts that they would leave me alone.

Cooper's head shot up from his bed in the backseat. He looked just as displeased and annoyed as I felt. Why wouldn't they slow down? Is the question I could not figure out. I don't know if it was all the Stephen King that I read, but my paranoia was increasing as I started to settle on the possibility that they were now following me.

Maybe I was tired?

Maybe my imagination truly was getting the best of me?

Or maybe whoever that person was also suddenly decided to take the same random exit as I was taking.

I didn't think. I veered my car off to the right and got on the first breakaway from this seemingly endless road. I had no idea where I was headed at this point and neither did my Garmin. It made multiple attempts to reroute itself, but even that could not locate where I was. I took an unexpected detour by driving off into the middle of nowhere with a now stalker in my midsts.

Adrenaline now filling up my bloodstream. I gave my steering wheel the death grip and drove as fast as the tire tracks of my car would guide me. On a midsize billboard to my left I saw a logo for a gas station and a non franchised bed & breakfast saying it was right up the road. I was taking a chance by trusting that the establishment was clean and safe. I just needed to go where a crowd of people would be. The battery on my phone was likely dead and yes this was now becoming the opening sequence for a King novel. I'd laugh if my heart wasn't fluttering as fast a hummingbird's wing.

I managed to make out lights ahead as I neared the petrol station first. However, it just about looked abandoned. The dim white lights flickered around the desolate parking lot. I saw only two freight trucks parked side by side and I immediately thought

. . .hell no.

I kept driving forward in the hopes that the bed and breakfast sign wasn't last updated in the early nineties. I nearly combusted from relief when I finally saw it. Several cars and mini vans lined up with people inside of them probably doing the same thing that I was. I didn't plan on staying the night I just planned on staying long enough to hide out from the rain and from the trouble that still followed my trails.

Luckily there were free parking spaces close to the entrance. It was still hard to make out what the place truly looked like. From my view in the car the rain made it look like it was a melting oil painting. In a swift motion I put my car in park, turned my ignition off, reached in the back to grab Cooper and grabbed ahold of my purse in the other arm. I bolted out of my car for the door.

It felt as though I was running through a hurricane. I was completely drenched. I could barely keep my eyes from closing as I ran up the slippery steps in my worn Toms praying that I wouldn't eat concrete. There was an awning over the door that offered relief from the storm's cruel embrace . Looking down at the fuzzy brown welcome mat I noticed a quote was scribbled out on it.

"some beautiful paths

can't be discovered without getting lost."

As I reached for the doorknob I couldn't help but notice the intricate design. I'm aware of how wrong the timing was to fawn over something so utterly mundane. I just could not conceal the fact that I was a sucker for antiques roadshow and architectural designing. Growing up with a dad that built and reconstructed vintage furniture one might pick up on the interest. It was a white privacy doorknob with hand painted roses, with a Victorian long plated silver keyhole. The sound of distant car door slamming snapped me out of my daze. I turned my head in the direction of the sound low and behold it was that same car. Crazy thing is I didn't see anyone by it.

Instinct guided me forward considering my brain was scrambling with worry. I ushered myself inside and it was as though I fell into a pink wonderland. From the pink carpet to the multicolored pink pinstripe wallpaper. Hot pink roses seemed to have been the main theme for the lobby. There were various black and silver picture frames with photos of pink roses hanging on every wall. On every surface my eyes could catch, red and pink plastic roses sat in circular olive green vases. It was certainly....something. I thought I was doing the most logical thing by coming inside, but it quickly dawned on me that I saw no one around.

"Hello?" I cautiously called out.

I paced myself as I walked up to the front desk, simultaneously looking around for any potential red flags. My right arm was going numb, my little guy was tiny but felt like I was lugging around a sack of potatoes. I wandered away from the desk to poke my head around the place. There was a entry way that led to a dinning area with a handful of seats adorned with of course pink table settings. I was standing next to a spiral staircase to what I assumed led to the rooms. There was only one door that held a sign for a bathroom. Perhaps there was a power outlet I could use long enough to charge my phone to call my dad.

The same door I walked in swung open and droplets of rain was blown in by the wind. A shiver rolled down my spine, sending a myriad of sparks that shot through my body. Turning around a strange sensation filled the pits of my stomach. It felt like butterflies and moths had taken up space there. Excitement and fear. I just stood completely mute like I had never seen a man before. Well to my defense I hadn't seen ones that look like him in my town. Without even seeing my reflection I had an inkling as to the state of my appearance. I was utterly perplexed by how he pulled off the kissed by an ocean look. To embarrass myself further of course my dog chose that moment to shake water off of his fur on to me.

"Really Coop?" I tried to hide my disgust, but he got it around the corner of my mouth! The good looking stranger offered a half smile that probably pitied my overall state.

"Is the black Kia parked out yours?" Even his voiced oozed sex appeal. He angled his frame so he could face me. There was about an arm length of distance between us. His eyes practically bore into my face I suppose waiting for me to say something. Must have been the buzzcut, the facial scuff, or the fact that some creep was still parked outside waiting to do who knows what. But my thoughts were not where they should have been.

I blinked and straightened up my posture. "Yeah why?" I finally answered.

It was a causal question, yet it felt completely random like there was something else to it.Neither of us spoke for a few seconds.The silence was so thick it would take a hacksaw to cut through.

"Well I'll be damned! I didn't think I would get to see you until after you got back from your trip in California." A woman most likely in her late sixties came rushing down the stairs for him. She draped her arms around his body clearly taking him by surprise. Her cotton candy colored pink bouffant made up for most of her height. Sebastian returned her embrace. Although it looked extremely awkward considering he stared at me the whole time and I stood there watching.

"Moe's old truck didn't give you too much trouble did it?" She asked.

"No it still got some life left in it." Sebastian's jaw went slack and he looked from her to me once more. Only this time he was looking at me with a cold glare. Realization suddenly crashed into me like a wild horse.

[amwritingmeta]

You don't think killing Dean the way they did was contradicting to his character arc and development?

Hello, lovely!

As the initial shock of watching Dean die is wearing off more with each passing day, I can tell you that no, I don’t think that killing Dean the way they did was contradicting to his character arc and development. 

Let me explain.

And let me be clear, I’m basing this on my hopes and wishes for the narrative, for Dean, and they, in turn, sprung up from my reading of the narrative. 

My reading has always, as all meta readings are, been wholly subjective, though I’ve striven to be objective, trying to base my reading in my understanding of narrative structure and possible production choices as much as possible. The initial shock after the finale came from how the delivery of Dean’s endgame stepped outside of what I wanted and had grown to expect in those weeks leading up to it, due to 15x18 and queer love suddenly being a stated part of the narrative. 

Letting go of the idea of a long and happy life for Dean with Cas as a human on Earth, because that was simply the framework my brain invented to give them a happily ever after, I’d like to take a look at some of the other hopes and wishes I’ve had for Dean, in no particular order:

Dismantling the toxic masculinity ideal

Non-performance

Open communication and honesty

Self-acceptance leading to self-worth leading to self-actualisation 

Integration

Clear sense of identity

Learning to let go of need for control

Learning to trust

Feeling deserving of happiness and embracing it

Ending the codependency 

Teamwork and sharing responsibility/not feeling it’s all on him

Admitting to himself that what he longs for is to love and be loved

Believing in deserving to have a future

The world balanced out (no more firewall)

Putting the past to rest

Letting go of Protect Sammy as predominant purpose

Letting go of fear

No more Butch and Sundance/blaze of glory ending

Now, the more I think about all of these things in relation to S15 in general and the final three episodes in particular, the more those finale three episodes make me feel nothing short of delight for our characters. (sorry but it’s true) (I feel the distress of our family and it’s just horrifying but oh I do feel we need to take a breath together and calm down)

Here’s what I see. And what I see may come off as dismissive of people’s frustration and anger and disgust with the finale, but it’s not meant to be. I’ve always read this narrative how I described above, knowing that it’s impossible not to be subjective, but striving for objectivity.

Striving for objectivity by looking at what’s come before, the threads I’ve seen them pulling on, the overarching themes that have been consistent for fifteen years, the character traits that have been explored and narratively stated over and over again, and basing my analysis in these narrative constants.

So first, let us ask ourselves: was Dean’s death foreshadowed in S15?

The simple answer is that yes, it was.

It was foreshadowed by Amara saying that she wanted to release Dean from his anger, it was foreshadowed by Billie asking if it wasn’t time for the sweet release of death, and it was foreshadowed by the heart symbology peppered throughout the entire season.

Had it been coming for a long time?

Well, yes, it had. There were only two ways that his arc could end: him living or him dying, right? He’s died a lot, which is why I thought it should end in him living, finally, but let’s look at what the narrative tells us living constitutes:

fear (of losing his brother and of what’s around the next bend), as Dean admits in 15x17: he’s always afraid

pain, because the pain of losing Cas will never go away

Has Dean decided to deal with that? Yes, he has. He’s decided, by 15x20, to accept the loss, to look to the future, to not give up, to keep on fighting. He’s not even self-destructively looking for a case to distract him: instead he brings Sam to a freaking pie festival. Yeah? Dean is living his life.

This means that we’re shown him as having let go of toxic masculinity because he’s wholly non-performing at the start of 15x20, he’s openly communicating and being honest about the pain he feels over losing Cas, but as opposed to Chuck’s version of the “perfect ending” which was always tragic, where Dean losing Cas meant that he saw no purpose to living or fighting anymore, Dean takes that pain and is able to handle it because?

Because of Cas. Because of Dean internalising Cas’ view of him. Because of Dean being shown in 15x19 to grieve Cas, to want Cas back, to go through the motions (getting drunk etc.), only for him to realise (and yes the execution is lacking but I’m going to go with the narrative we have for the sake of this reading) that Cas isn’t coming back. 

By the end of 15x19, Cas’ words have taken such hold that Dean not only eases up on control and is shown to confidently share the responsibility for de-powering Chuck by working as a well-oiled team machine with Jack and Sam - because he trusts them, he’s also symbolically allowed to fully integrate by refusing to kill Chuck, because his Shadow (toxic masculinity as passed along by John the Bad Father Figure) (John also has a good side but he had a very bad side, for sure) no longer holds any sway over Dean, and because of Cas’ words, because of Cas’ faith in him, through Cas’ love for all that Dean is, Dean is given the sense of self-worth needed to finally be able to move into self-acceptance, allowing him to self-actualise, to integrate.

Cas saved Dean’s life AND saved Dean from his crappy self-view. I mean. It’s kinda fucking remarkable that this reading is right there for the taking.

So here we have the narrative ticking boxes like JAYSUS, yeah?

Let’s look it:

Dismantling the toxic masculinity ideal

Non-performance

Open communication and honesty

Self-acceptance leading to self-worth leading to self-actualisation

Integration

Clear sense of identity

Learning to let go of need for control

Learning to trust

Feeling deserving of happiness and embracing it

Teamwork and sharing responsibility/not feeling it’s all on him

Believing in deserving to have a future

The world balanced out (no more firewall)

And this, all of it, is thanks to LOVE. 

Because this is a story about love and... love.

So Dean being able to integrate thanks to Cas’ love is, to me, all about Dean opening himself up to the fact that what he wants, truly wants, and has always wanted (and needed, for that matter) is to be loved for who he is, and to allow himself to feel that very same unconditional love for another.

In the act of letting go of needing Cas back to somehow validate that love or validate Dean actually truly being deserving of receiving and giving love, we get the unconditional aspect of it underlined. There’s no dependency anymore. No fear attached to the emotion. Just the love itself, untouched by death. The healthy side to that profound bond that’s always kind of tripped these two up before. I mean. I think it’s kind of breathtaking.

Also, I’ve been told there’s an application that we see on Dean’s desk for him to get a job as a mechanic, which seems to me an underlining that Dean is looking to the future and in so doing is shown to feel deserving of happiness and embracing it. Something that I feel is established at the beginning of the episode, even without this detail, but is brought into focus thanks to it.

Dean doesn’t want to die. He has no desire to die. The implication being that he’s trying to make the best of what he’s got and is completely honest with himself about what he wants. Not owning a bar, but working on cars. The good side of John getting a nod, or so I would say. Especially poignant in an episode so heavily focused on Good Father Figures. 

I haven’t seen the detail of this application for myself though, I just trust my sources. :)

Now we get to the meatier part of this reading: Dean and Sam.

What do we have left on the list of hopes and wishes of stuff to be addressed as pertaining to Dean?

We’ve got:

Ending the codependency 

Putting the past to rest

Letting go of Protect Sammy as predominant purpose

Letting go of fear

No more Butch and Sundance/blaze of glory ending

I wonder if you might already be seeing where I’m going with this, but for good measure, let’s discuss the death scene and what it narratively results in for Dean and for Sam.

Dean and Sam end up in that barn because they’re two men who will not stand for harm coming to innocent lives, especially when those innocent lives belong to two little kids. This is who they are at their core.

Dean is killed by a vampire wearing a mask. Yeah. Someday perhaps I’ll make proper sense of it. Point is: Dean is impaled on a rusty nail that imbeds itself in his heart and sort of holds him together until the moment of his passing, giving him time to ask his brother to stay (zero performance and only vulnerability) and tell Sam exactly what Sam has always meant to him.

Which, for Dean, is vulnerability on steroids. Honesty times one thousand. In your face true identity flares of beauty.

This scene is stunning. When I watched it the second time around last Saturday I was blown away. Jensen makes this scene what it is, because it is such an absolute mirror of Dean’s scene with Cas and the differences to Jensen’s acting choices are paramount to the emotional significance of either. (oh Misha was extremely paramount to the declaration of love, don’t get me wrong, but here we have Jensen pivotally impactful, since he’s in both)

And through this mirroring we have two major threads of this narrative on display and effectively highlighted and tied up: the familial vs the romantic.

Because this is a story about love and... love.

The thing that I’ve been turning over in my head a lot is the codependency aspect here. I’ve had issues with it. Could it only be broken by Dean’s death? 

And no, I don’t think that’s what’s happening here at all. 

This moment is absolutely about the codependency breaking. In part. But it’s also about Dean going out bittersweetly, suddenly, without any glory or blaze, and it’s a very human, very real, very grounding moment to me for his arc: he didn’t expect it to be today, but it is.

*i’m seriously cry*

And Sam’s grief is so raw. I wish Sam had gotten to break away on his own. I’ll always wish that for him. That he could’ve seen his worth as a leader and leaned on that and on his love for Eileen, but Sam’s arc was always, always dependent on Dean’s progression, and this is what Dean’s arc needed in his final moment: clarity, honesty, trust, faith, letting go. A voicing of the fear, of the past, of what got them here, of the dependency - it was always you... and me - and both of them choosing, in the moment, to recognise the finality of it.

The entire show has revolved around these two men’s absolute inability to let go of each other and the stupidity and recklessness this inability has resulted in. Choice after choice serving to bring about the near apocalypses they’ve kept finding themselves in.

And reflecting itself in that has been the dependency Dean has felt for Cas’ presence, his annoyance and worry and fear whenever Cas has disappeared, how Dean’s progression has stopped in its tracks whenever Cas has been removed from the narrative.

So for this scene of the familial love allowing a letting go of that dependency to reflect itself once more so beautifully in how the romantic love allowed for a letting go of that dependency is kind of. I don’t even know. Everything glitters?

Dean finding peace ultimately has everything to do with having met, known and fallen in love with and having been loved by this angel of his. 

But is that canon? 

I mean, it’s subtextual canon, which is good enough for me, because it was all I ever expected and it’s such a blatant statement through the couples in love losing each other leading into Dean and Cas losing each other that there’s just no doubt in my mind how we’re meant to be understanding what these two men mean to each other, and from that draw the conclusions of what it is that’s influencing Dean’s moment of integration.

Does Dean’s death make a statement that happiness and love can only be found in death?

No. It really does not. Because that’s not what the narrative message is. Because Sam finds love and happiness by living his life. And I sincerely disagree with Sam being depicted as being depressed his whole life (the way Dean was with Lisa) because he lost his brother. Sure, there could’ve been pictures of all the found family when Sam is on his death bed, but he’s also thinking about the brother he lost and that’s simply a visual establishing of this fact. Could there have been more? Sure! But that doesn’t mean that all Sam cares about was Dean for all his life, living it in grief and loss. 

Sam loves his son, helps his son, laughs with his son, is a good father figure to his son, and this thread is pulled on throughout the episode: the good father figure thread. 

Dean’s goodbye to Sam isn’t just a brother saying goodbye to a brother.

It’s a father bidding farewell to his child. It’s a father gently relieved to not have to watch his son die. To get to go first. And yes, sure, that’s sad, but it’s also very human and real and says so much about their relationship.

Dabb era has hit the father/parental thread so hard that the Good Father thread running through this episode makes perfect sense to me.

Dean goes to Heaven not to find Cas, not expecting Cas to be there, but finding Cas there all the same (reward for letting go and having faith that if he’s meant to, and why wouldn’t he be, then he’ll see Cas again *headcanon*), and more than that, learning that Cas has made Heaven what it is now, moved Heaven away from trapping souls in endless memory loops (which was benevolent enough, but completely missed the point of what it means to be human) and that now there’s discovery and exploration and more life to be lived, because Heaven is overflowing with free will, with choice, with all the possibility for longevity and happiness.

The eternity that Dean deserves. 

Created for him by Cas. 

Cas ensuring Dean’s death is not an ending, but a beginning. That it’s not a prison for Dean’s mind, but instead a homecoming, filled with the prospect of reconnecting with all the people Dean has ever cared about, ever loved.

I mean, the fact that Cas’ prevailing faith in Jack has enabled all this is like strobe lights for the fucking brain.

And the irony is that while I focused entirely on how Cas needed to be grounded and choose to live a human life on Earth, the narrative had other plans (okay yeah the writers) and instead brought Dean to Heaven, and immortality.

It takes away the final obstacles for giving these two a happily ever after.

It also reflects itself in how Mary, in Heaven, is “complete”. She’s with John. She’s at peace. She’s happy. And who have always been fairly strongly tied (through mixtapes and whatnot) to Mary and John Winchester? Yeah. 

Also, Cas the angel will never age and will never die, and him with human Dean, watching Dean grow old and die only to go visit Dean in his little Heaven always made me depressed. Human!Cas took care of that, but left the Heaven conundrum wide open. And now it’s just gloriously fixed. 

And, speaking of, Cas got to FIX HEAVEN. And he’s fixing it together with his son. All of that faith, all of that struggle, completely rewarded. And Cas building that Heaven in wait for Dean to arrive, because if Dean hadn’t died in that barn (take me back to the night we met...) Dean would’ve died at some point, and Cas can wait, he just wants to make sure there’s happiness waiting for Dean when he arrives. I’m sorry but OMFG. I’m just so happy for our Castiel!!

Could Dean not know happiness on Earth?

I think he was on his way. I think there would always be that pain and that fear, but he was ready to accept that and make the most of it and live his life. Only... his heart is missing, because his heart went away, and perhaps there’s this chance that he’ll find it again, because he always has before, but he doesn’t know, and he doesn't expect it, and that’s okay, he can wait, and then he’s brought to Heaven, and there it is, and he smiles that smile and Heaven is basically complete apart for one final piece.

Because of course Dean would wait for Sam. 

Now. I realise this is my reading of this narrative. No one needs to accept it as the begin all, end all reading. I’m only hoping that it will offer a counterweight to the absolute and utter negativity being bandied around as the only true begin all, end all, because I do not see it or believe that it’s all there is to this finale.

There’s beauty here. And discounting it, at least the possibility of it, even if it’s not exactly what I’ve laid out in this reply, because of frustration of not getting textual Destiel is not doing anyone any good. We got subtextual Destiel, we got subtextual bisexual Dean, and it’s confirmed. To my mind, it’s confirmed.

That’s everything I ever dared expect. And that expectation came solely from how clear the subtext has always been, how invested the writers have seemed in it, and the actors too. 

And Cas is canonically queer. 

Which is fucking amazing and truly enormous and I’ll talk very gently about why I don’t feel his death was a case of BYG in a separate post, but Cas is alive in the narrative as it’s been presented to us, and he’s in love with Dean and they get to be together in the Heaven Dean deserves, remodelled for Dean by Cas. If that’s not the beginning of a happily ever after, then I don’t know what is!

Thanks for asking, love. I’ve been meaning to write all this down and have spent the afternoon doing so. It’s quite cathartic!

xx

[yelena-bellova]

Don’t Be Afraid: Poe Dameron x Solo!Reader - Chapter Twenty Seven

Chapter Twenty Seven: Stolen Moments

Series Masterlist

Plot: Good, bad, lighthearted, heavy. Laughter, tears, passion and fear. Battles are only a part of the war, but the lives of the people who fight are where the true stories lie. 

Warnings: language, night terrors, anxiety, fluff, angst, suggestive activity, we do it all in this chapter...

Word Count: 6.4k

A/N: Here lies a collection of oneshots of our favorite pieces of rebel scum. Savor it because this is the last piece of lighthearted content you’ll be getting for a while...We’ve got one last chapter before we head into TROS...Enjoy! (Apologies to scrollers, I posted this from my mobile!)

————

“Black Leader to base.” “Base to Black Leader,” I said into my headset, “This is Commander Solo.” “Commander Solo? What are you doing on comms?” “Hello to you too,” I laughed softly, “I’m filling in.” It was the middle of the night, the only time where the base was fairly quiet. There were always people on duty but for the most part, there was rare silence in our corner of the jungle. The comms officer assigned to Poe for his mission had fallen ill so I immediately volunteered to take over. It wasn’t a difficult task, I never slept well when Poe was away anyways so at least I was being productive. 

“Are we alone, Commander?” 

“Yes, so stop calling me Commander,” I ordered, shifting in my uncomfortable seat, “You’re the one that likes that.” Poe chortled slightly, “I’ve never heard you complaining about it or anything that follows…” I was glad no one was around to see just how quickly my boyfriend could make me blush. The only reason I wasn’t indulging him was purely because of how tired I was. “It’s far too late for that kind of talk, Black Leader.” “Why’d you volunteer to take over? You sound exhausted.” I shrugged as I leaned back further in my chair, “I don’t sleep well when you’re gone.” “Still…” Poe trailed off, a loud yawn crackled through the headset, “Go to bed now, I’m gonna be landing in the next few minutes. Highly doubtful I’ll run into any trouble.” “I’m not ending this comm until I see your X-Wing on the ground,” I stated in a tone that left no room for argument, “If I left, it would end up being the time that Hugs and his armada of star destroyers would be waiting for you to come out of hyperspace and blow you out of the system.” “...Have you like thought this through or something? You came up with that scenario a little too fast…” I snickered to myself, “Just fly faster so I can stop missing you.” “You want me to fly faster than lightspeed?” “If anyone can do it, it’s you…”I smiled, fiddling with the cord of the headset that ran to the computer. “That sounds like an admission that I’m a better pilot than you are…”

“Where did you hear those words, Dameron? Cause I sure as hell didn’t saying them.” “Oh, you said enough,” Poe chuckled, “And you’re right on both counts.” I smiled lazily, “That’s right…” I hadn’t registered that my eyelids were beginning to shut, shaking myself awake I returned to the conversation, “Wait, what was my other count?” “I would break every principle of flying just to get home to you quicker.” A second blush heated my face as I let the sentiment seep into my veins. “You’re a charmer, Black Leader. Whoever your girlfriend is, she’s a lucky lady.”

“Trust me, I’m the one who’s lucky. She puts up with way too much shit from me.” “Something tells me that you’re worth it,” I said softly, unable to keep the lovestruck grin from my face.

I heard the distant sound of a ship and caught the long-awaited sight of Poe’s X-Wing coming onto the scanner. My body relaxed as I could finally sense Poe’s presence again. He was home.

“Permission to land, Solo?” 

“Granted,” I lazily smiled, “Welcome home, Dameron.”

————

It was a stupid fight that we shouldn’t have been having. 

Date nights were hard to come by, especially for people like us who were working constantly. But by some miracle, Poe and I had found a block of time one evening to have dinner together for longer than ten minutes. I’d set it up in our room, dimming the lights and arranging the table till it met my approval. I’d even changed out of my work clothes to the one pair of fatigues I owned. Everything was going to be perfect.

Till Poe didn’t show up.

I sat at the table with tears of anger pooling in my eyes, my gaze flicking between the door and the ever-changing clock. Just as my anger couldn’t possibly grow any further, the door slid open and in came Poe. Sweaty, stained with oil and curls completely out of place. Some of the new recruits had asked Poe to give them a few tips on their flying techniques and he’d gotten caught up in it. What started as discussion had climbed to practice dogfights above base.

Soft spoken anger quickly turned to raised voices until we were yelling at one another.

I accused him of caring more about the Resistance than about me.

He accused me of not placing enough importance on the war.

He could’ve reached me over the comms to tell me.

I could’ve not overreacted over missing one dinner.

I stormed out of the room.

He didn’t follow.

That was how I’d ended up on the Falcon. I didn’t want to shed tears in front of Poe, so I’d saved them for the privacy of my ship. I was all cried out as I sat silently in the captain’s chair, absentmindedly flipping a switch on the control board on and off. Poe and I didn’t fight often, not like this at least. So on the occasions it did happen, it wrecked both of us until someone conceded because they simply couldn’t take the separation any longer. I knew I’d been a little dramatic in my accusations, but I’d looked forward to the night for days. But that was only a piece of what was bothering me about the whole thing. I had operated purely from anger, the thing I’d been striving so hard to purge from me. It was reopening every fear I had about myself and my powers. I felt the resentment towards Poe swirling inside of me and there was a part of me that wanted to let it fester. It was eating me alive that despite all the training I was going through, I still didn’t have a handle on my emotions. 

“Hey…” I turned around at the voice to see a sleep deprived Poe standing a cautious distance away from me. His hair was in further disarray, his eyes wearing dark bags from lack of rest and his gaze focused on the ground. I didn’t want to speak first, I was too afraid of what might fly out of my mouth. He hesitantly looked up at me and met my eyes, even after a fight he still looked at me with a softness in his stare. Unable to stay on the receiving end any longer without feeling worse, I turned back around in my seat. His footsteps moved closer until he came to sit next to me in the co-pilot’s chair. We sat in silence for a moment, readjusting to one another’s presence before voicing our thoughts.

Poe was the first one to speak, “I’m sorry, I was an asshole.” “No more so than me,” I said, still unable to look at him without feeling a thrum of anxiety run through my body.

“You were justified in your anger-“ Poe leaned forward and reached his hand out toward my knee.

“No,” I jerked my body away from his loving touch, “Poe, I’m not. I mean, yes, I’m mad at you but I didn’t even hear you out. The only reason you got your explanation in is because I ran out of breath berating you. Yes, I’m right to be upset but not to this extent…” Poe sighed and hung his head down, running a hand through his unkempt hair. He didn’t see me like this often, but the times he did hurt him almost as much as they hurt me.

“Y/n,” he said softly, “That was a pretty standard fight. I missed a date, you yelled and now we’re talking it through. Your reaction’s no different than anyone else’s.” “That’s the point,” I leaned on my knees and pinched the bridge of my nose, “I’m not supposed to be like everyone else. I’m a Jedi, I’m supposed to have a better grip on my emotions and not fly off the handle every time we have a fight.” “Y/n, Jedis are human too,” Poe challenged with a hint of a smile, “You don’t have to be as perfect as you think you need to be.” I rubbed my hands over my face nervously and scooted forward in my chair. Poe’s hands were already waiting to take hold of mine, the rough calloused tips of his fingers from years of flying stroking over my palms gently. 

“I know you know you messed up, and I’m sorry for trying to make you feel worse about it,” I said quietly, sliding one of my hands up to hold the back of his neck, “I don’t think my expectations were realistic for what a relationship looks like in the middle of a war.” “I think we both are finding that out,” Poe agreed, stroking my knee with his free hand, “Sometimes I catch myself acting like I’m still single. I schedule my day without leaving any room for time with you and like tonight, I majorly screwed up.” Our lives were changing along with the war and we needed to find our middle ground. It required constant adjustment and work, but it was worth it. And we’d been through too much to let our relationship suffer at the hands of our own carelessness.

“So we try harder,” I suggested, running my fingers through a few runaway curls, “And we try to have a little more understanding towards one another. Our priority is each other but this fight,” I turned my gaze to the cockpit window, “It’s going to have to come before what we want sometimes.” I turned back to Poe who was watching me with a soft intensity that only he could possess. The hand I had on his neck pulled him down to lean our foreheads against one another. His warm palms slid up my legs to my sides, holding them loosly. We leaned into one another’s lips at the same time, moving together slowly and softly to make up for the harsh words spoken earlier in the evening. Even after we pulled away, Poe pressed several featherlight kisses to the corners of my lips. “I love you more than anything else,” Poe whispered, his hot breath hovering over my lips, “You know that right?” “I do,” I replied quietly, in no need to disturb the tender quiet we’d found, “And I don’t think I could love you any more than I already do.”

————

There was an unofficial day in the Resistance that had been going for quite a few years.

Prank Day.

One day where we played harmless practical jokes on one another. As long as it didn’t endanger anyone’s safety or get in the way of doing our jobs, anything was fair game. The higher ranking officers, including Mom, knew about it and had never made any effort to put a stop to it. Privately, Mom actually enjoyed seeing what people pulled off.

“Finn, I’m his girlfriend, I don’t know if I can go along with this,” I told my friend as we carried recently delivered cargo through base.

“Y/n, c’mon, you’re the only one who has access to the room,” Finn urged, “You don’t even have to do it, just conveniently leave your door open and if I happen to wander in…” My friend was trying his hardest to get me involved in whatever prank he had planned for Poe. He hadn’t even told me what it was, only that it was too good to not be a part of.

“If I say I’ll consider it, will you leave it alone?” I asked.

“Yes,” Finn adjusted the crate to carry it with one hand, pointing his finger at me, “But only if you actually consider it. I swear, you’ll love it…”

I didn’t actually consider it, Prank Day was the furthest thing from my mind. Between training and my duties as a commander, I had enough on my plate.

Until I woke up on said day unable to find my lightsaber. 

Poe had left our room before I’d started my day so my only option was to comm him. It wasn’t until my fifth attempt at reaching him on the comms that he answered…

“Maybe you left it hanging around outside…” His cryptic answer resulted in me standing underneath Tantive IV craning my neck to stare at my lightsaber taped to the underside of the ship. How he had gotten it up there, I didn’t know and didn’t care. All I knew was payback was well and truly deserved.

“I’m in,” I plopped down next to Finn as he sat eating lunch in Rey’s corner of base, “What do you need from me?” Finn pumped his fist before filling me in on the details of the prank. 

“Wait, what’s going on?” Rey asked, she’d had her head buried in one of the Jedi texts and had only heard a few words of Finn’s plan. Once he had explained it to both of us, she was practically snorting with laughter. “Oh, please let me witness this.” “I’ve got a little something extra to add to it, but I’m gonna need your help, Finn...” I said with a sly grin.

Later that day, I was sitting in my and Poe’s quarters awaiting his return. He waltzed through the door casually, a hint of smugness in his smile. 

“How’s your day been?” he asked innocently.

“Nothing new to report,” I shrugged, “Still haven’t found my lightsaber though.” “I’m sure it’ll turn up,” he responded plainly, leaning down to kiss the top of my head, “I’m gonna shower then we can grab dinner. Finn and I were working on something earlier and he got some oil in my hair.” “Well, we all know how protective you are of your hair…” I sighed, earning myself a chuckle before he headed into the refresher.

As soon as I heard the sound of water, I bolted for the door. As I ran down the hall, I raised the comlink I’d been hiding in my hand. “He just got in,” I reported. “Copy that,” Finn replied, “On our way.”

I hurried toward the exit of the ship just as Finn and Rey sped in the opposite direction.

“Hurry,” Rey urged as we passed one another. “On it.” I bounded for the spot where Poe had taped my lightsaber, standing directly under it. It didn’t take much effort as I extended my hand and broke the “foolproof” seal, the weapon flying into my palm. As I sprinted back into the ship, I peeled off the tape until it was restored to its proper state. I made it back to the room with Finn and Rey already standing outside. I punched in the code quickly and the door flew open. 

“He should be almost done,” I breathed, listening to the sounds of the sanisteamer still going.

After a moment, the noise stopped and was replaced with Poe humming some song to himself. The three of us waited with bated breath for the explosive reaction that was surely to come.

“What the hell?!” 

We tried to stifle our giggles to no avail knowing what Poe was seeing right now. He flew out the door calling my name with a towel wrapped around his waist, only to be met by Finn, Rey and I laughing hysterically.

Poe’s hair was bright blue. 

“Did you three do this?” he cried, still clutching the shampoo bottle in a hand and pointing to his head with the other. Our shrieks of laughter and nods were the only answer he received. 

“I have a late meeting tonight and I have to go looking like this?” Poe asked, pulling on his damp curls to amplify his point. “I’ve always thought you looked good in blue,” I said as I tried to catch my breath, still clutching my stomach.

“You’ve always had the best hair in the Resistance, Poe,” Finn replied, gesturing to the blue mop in question, “Now you can wear that title with extra pride.” “I’m serious, guys,” Poe said frustratedly, “This comes out, right?” “Yes, it comes out,” I answered with another small laugh, “I’d help you wash it out but,” I held up my lightsaber casually, “I really need to get some practice time in.” Poe gave a sigh of defeat and took a step towards us, “Okay, that’s fair. It’s pretty good actually. How’d you pull it off?”

Finn took the reins, “I snuck Y/n the dye and she-“

We were interrupted by Poe squirting the remains of the blue shampoo on our heads. Finn, Rey and I shot down the hall and out of his range as he chased the three of us down the thankfully empty hall.

————

Supply closets, as I quickly found out, were not built for two people. 

Poe had been away on a weeklong mission and had just returned. Making it back to our room to welcome him home properly wasn’t going to happen so he’d pulled me into the nearest room. Our lips were currently battling for dominance as our hands found purchase in the others clothing.

“I missed you,” Poe mumbled against my mouth.

“I missed you too,” I whispered in between kisses, “I hate when you’re gone this long.” “Yeah, but you gotta admit,” Poe breathed as he trailed his kisses across my face till he hit my jaw, “It makes our reunions all that sweeter.” My breathy laugh turned to a soft groan as his lips travelled down to my neck. My hands moved frantically against his flight suit, internally cursing whoever had made them so damn complicated to get off. All actions ceased as Poe began to suck a mark onto the delicate patch of skin, I threw one arm around his shoulders and reached a hand up to grip his hair. With each ministration of his mouth, a gentle moan escaped my lips that would encourage him to keep going.

“I’m gonna be wearing high collared shirts in a jungle for days thanks to you,” I breathed, still holding his head to the juncture between my neck and shoulder. “You want me to stop?” Poe teased against my skin, his voice low and husky. His hands had found their way under my shirt and were rubbing circles against my hips. 

My hum of pleasure was all the invitation he needed to dive back in, pressing me back into the wall and aggressively attacking the skin again. I wrapped a leg around his back to push him further against me, needing to feel him as close as possible. I reached down blindly and found the zipper to his flight suit, tugging it down forcefully and slipping it off his shoulders.

Suddenly, the dark room flooded with light. Poe and I broke from each other to see a maintenance worker standing awkwardly in the doorway.

“Uh, sorry, Commanders…” he sputtered, “I-I just came to get something but, uh, I’ll come back later.” Before I could protest and come up with an excuse for our suggestive position, he’d quickly shut the door in embarrassment. I threw my head back against the wall and groaned while Poe snickered to himself.

“You do realize the entire base is going to hear about this right?” I asked, unable to see him clearly in the darkness but picturing his smug smile. 

“So?” Poe said, I felt him shrug his shoulders, “Every couple’s snuck off like this, trust me.”

Just as I began to push him off me, he tightened his grip on my waist and eased me back against the wall. One of his hands left my body and I heard a click of the door’s lock before the pressure returned. I felt his hot breath against my collarbone, pulling me back down into his orbit and surrendering to the sensation. “Gotta finish what we started, sweetheart…”

————

Mine and Poe’s schedules exhausted us enough that sleep almost always came easy to us. But sound slumber was a gift neither of us typically received.

I woke up to the sound of distressed moans and the absence of Poe’s arms wrapped around me. Sitting up and blinking my eyes in the darkness, I caught the silhouette of Poe from the soft light we kept turned on. He was rolled over onto his side, clutching the blankets in his fists and whimpering.

“Poe,” I whispered, shifting to kneel beside him and gently gripping his shoulder, “Baby, wake up.” “Mmphf,” he moaned, “No, no, get out.” “Poe, wake up,” I raised my voice slightly, “You’re having a nightmare, wake up.”

“No, get-get out of my head,” he breathed, his voice saturated with desperation, “Don’t hurt her.” I knew exactly what nightmare he was having.

“Baby, I’m okay,” I urged, shaking his shoulder with both hands, “Wake up.” His eyes flew open and he shot up in bed with a cry, I could make out the single tear trail down his cheek. Unfortunately, this was nothing new to me. Much like myself, Poe suffered from the same horrible dream night after night. 

“Poe, you’re okay,” I said soothingly, running my hands down his arm, “It was a nightmare.” His chest rose and fell as he fought to catch his breath, he ran a hand over his face and sniffled. He turned to me and gripped both my wrists gently, looking me over to make sure I was real. “I’m okay,” I assured, turning my hand over to lace my fingers with his.

He breathlessly nodded, his eyes frantically searching my face for reassurance. “He was in my head, Y/n, he went in and the first thing he saw was you.” “I know, I know,” I hummed, pushing myself into his lap where he usually needed me on the bad nights, “But he didn’t get me. I’m here, he can’t hurt either of us.” As Poe’s racing thoughts slowed down and he processed what I was saying, he surged forward and collected me in his arms. His grip was tighter on nights like this, in his nightmare he faced the reality of some horrible fate befalling me. He needed more than my verbal reassurance, he needed to feel me to quell the lingering panic. Whether he needed to be held, to be kissed or to lose himself in me, I gave him whatever would return him to me fully. This particular night, all he needed was to be close. We fell asleep with Poe’s head resting on my chest as I soothingly ran my fingers through his curls.

The next night wasn’t any easier.

The thickness of the smoke had decreased since the last time I’d visited the familiar nightmare. Things were becoming clearer, metaphorically and literally.

I stood amidst the flames, finally able to make out where I was. After so many years, I should have been able to recognize the location. Perhaps I’d been in denial…

It was my uncle’s former training temple.

The wound I continuously tried so hard to close threatened to open up again. For once in the years of being plagued by the dream, I kept calm. Even at the sight of the location where through the cruelest circumstances, I’d been set on my path to become a Jedi, I held firm to my peace.

“Y/n,” a familiar voice called, I turned around to see a face I’d never seen before. Not in this form at least…

Obi-Wan.

He’d been the figure clothed in brown all these years.

He was so much younger, his white head of hair and beard a sandy shade of brown. His tan robes shorter than that ones I’d seen him in, but his dark brown cloak the exact same. Just like the soft expression on his face as our eyes met. 

He’d been calling out to me this whole time.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said, “You’re stronger than you know.” “Of what?” I asked as I walked with urgency towards him, “You’ve been saying that to me for years now and I still don’t know what it’s meant.” My grandfather’s gaze was no longer on me, but something behind me. I didn’t need to look to know exactly who stood firmly planted in my subconscious state, just as he did in my conscious.

“Don’t be afraid,” Ren said, his voice cool and balanced, so unlike him in reality. He spoke with a knowledgable authority that send a chill down my spine. “There’s more darkness in you than you know, just think of what you can do with it.” I was prepared to verbally strike him down and wield my Jedi status over him. I was ready to tell him he’d lost, till I turned to see bodies strewn across the ground. Soldiers. Resistance soldiers. Pilots. Maintenance workers. Strategists. Seemingly everyone that made up our band of rebels was strewn on the ground motionless. Worse…Taking one look at their wounds told me they had not died by blaster, but by lightsaber.

My hands trembled as they flew to cover my mouth, tears trailing down my cheeks as if they’d been waiting to fall. I was overcome. “Y/n,” my grandfather came to stand next to me, “Don’t listen to him. You know who you are.” Any other time I’d have listened to him. But at the sight of my comrades dead, I couldn’t be reasoned with. I fell to my knees with a shriek of horror, ignoring as Obi-Wan dropped alongside me and placed his hands on my shoulders. It didn’t matter how far I ran or how hard I tried, the fear I’d fought my entire life would always find me…

“Y/n, wake up. Sweetheart, you’re dreaming!” I startled awake with the same wet cheeks and thin layer of sweat across my brow that I’d gained in the nightmare. My chest heaved as I struggled to regain a normal breathing pattern. I turned onto my back and fell against Poe’s arm, he was caging me in and staring down at me. “You’re okay, it was just a dream,” he whispered, one of his hands coming to stroke a strand of hair out of my face.

I scrunched my eyes shut and nodded, trying to erase the image of so many good people dead at my hand. It wasn’t reality, I knew that, but it didn’t change the simple fact that my fear was. There was no escaping my mind.

“What do you need?” Poe asked softly.

“You.”

I gripped his biceps and pulled him down on top of me, our lips melting together blissfully. As hard as Poe would try if I asked, he couldn’t fix me. He couldn’t erase my anxieties, couldn’t go back in time and change my journey to where I’d ended up. But just him being there, willing to try and see me through the bad nights was enough. It was so much more than enough.

————

Cantina trips had always been something to look forward to. Shots and cocktails would flow freely and bring an immense amount of regret the next day, but we’d still repeat the cycle the next time around.

We never went in with the fear of possible death or capture.

Rey, Finn, Poe and I had been dispatched to Coruscant to a high end bar. We were supposed to meet an informant who had information on the First Order’s most recent weapon dealings. It was too good a chance to pass up, assuming he was even telling the truth. 

“I feel ridiculous in this get-up,” Rey’s voice whispered in my ear through the hidden comms device.

“Be thankful you have pants at least,” I chuckled softly as I sipped my drink, sneaking a peek across the room at her table. She was dressed in the tightest leather pants I’d ever seen and a long sleeved top with a plunging neckline. A stark contrast from her usual beige and white Jedi robes. I had been sewn into a strapless dress that only covered what it absolutely had to, including my lightsaber. “But we’re all in agreement that I look great, right?” Poe chimed in, he was seated at the opposite end of the bar. He’d exchanged his worn leather jacket for a sleek new neon colored one, a sheer shirt and pants just as tight as Rey’s. We weren’t supposed to be acknowledging each other’s presence but I’d snuck a few quick glances at his ass. 

“How’d you fit that ego through the door, Dameron?” Finn asked, he was nursing an ale near the entrance to the bar. His stylish jumpsuit, even with a few buttons undone, was the least revealing outfit out of the four of us. 

“Just fine, thanks for the concern, buddy,” Poe replied dryly before clearing his throat, “We know what this guy looks like?” “Nope,” I said with my lips to my glass, “All we know is that he’ll be carrying a cane. Not a very common feature so he shouldn’t be hard to spot.”

“Excuse me?” a voice from behind me spoke up, I turned to see a groomed gentleman gesturing to the stool next to me, “Is this seat taken?” I scanned him quickly, no cane. “I’m sorry, but I’m waiting for someone.” 

“A beautiful girl like you shouldn’t be kept waiting,” the man said as he defiantly took the seat, “I pity whoever decided they had better things to do than have a drink with you.” I had to stop from laughing at the lines he was using, coming from the right guy would’ve made them sound smooth. But this one just came off sounding like a cocky asshole and not the kind that I had a penchant for. “Do I need to come over and kick that guy’s ass?” Poe’s voice rang in my earpiece. 

“Trust me,” I smiled politely at the man, “Your pity would be better spent elsewhere.” He nodded and smirked, his eyes drinking in my exposed body so intensely that I started to squirm. My senses were telling me that he was bad news. “I haven’t seen you around here, what brings you to Coruscant?” “Business,” I replied evenly, trying to figure out how to get him to leave.

“Let me guess,” the guy rubbed his chin before snapping his fingers, “You’re a model.” “Something like that,” I said with a small smile that he wouldn’t understand, “My face is all over the galaxy.” “What a lucky galaxy,” he responded, I had to physically stop my face from scrunching into a cringe.

“What a charmer,” I chuckled before taking a final sip of my drink, “It’s been lovely chatting with you but I really am waiting on a friend.” The man held his hands up in surrender, “Hey, I understand. But you can’t blame a guy for taking a shot. Hope you have a fun night.” He stuck his hand out as he rose to his feet, I foolishly took it and shook it. As soon as we touched, he whipped out a blaster and pressed the barrel of it to my neck. 

“Lovely to make your acquaintance, Miss Solo,” he smirked.

Other patrons were shrieking at the scene that had been started. Unfortunately, it wasn’t going to get any better where we were concerned…

“Let her go!” Poe ordered, he’d made his way from across the bar in a flash and had his blaster aimed in record time.

“Guys, we’ve got stormtroopers headed our way,” Finn announced in our earpieces, “This is about to get ugly.” “Y/n has been made,” Rey reported, “It’s about to get uglier than you think.” “This is your lucky day, Miss Solo,” my wannabe assassin said cooly, “The Supreme Leader has been looking for you. He’ll be so happy to hear that we’ve found you.”

“Do me a favor and give him a message,” I smiled, my eyes flicking to Finn and Rey whose hands were ghosting over their hidden weapons. Poe gave me a nod to signal they were ready. “He’s going to have to try harder than this.” Poe used the butt of his blaster to hit the guy’s head, instantly knocking him out as he dropped to the ground. I unholstered my lightsaber from under my dress just as stormtroopers flooded through the bar’s doors. Rey launched herself off of her table and activated her saber while Finn was already shooting troopers down. Screams erupted from all around us and the innocent bystanders were taking cover underneath tables and behind the bar. Poe and Finn joined them in seeking cover but never stopped firing shots. Rey and I deflected the trooper’s attempts to take us down, some of their shots bouncing off our lightsabers and hitting them.

“Ready?” I raised my voice so she could hear me over the gunfire.

“Ready,” she replied, making her way to stand at my side. 

We extended our hands at the same time and used our combined power to send the group of troops tumbling through the doorway and crashing through the glass windows.

“Everybody out,” Poe shouted, sliding back out from behind the bar with Finn. The customers listened and began flooding out both the back door of the building. The remaining stormtroopers were scrambling back to their feet to search for us, but we blended into the crowd easily. We pushed our way out into the chilly night air with the fearful people who were regretting their decision to go for a drink.

“That went well,” Rey breathed as we ran through the alleyway behind the bar. “Either the contact was lying the whole time or they got word of the meeting and killed him,” Poe theorized as we navigated our path with only the neon lighting of the building fronts as our guide.

“Chewie, get the ship ready to go,” I said into the comlink, receiving an agreeable roar in response. Luckily the bar was located on the edge of the main part of the city. The Falcon was too easily recognized to land in a hanger so Chewie had it parked on the outskirts of the city, anxiously awaiting our return.

As the Falcon came into sight, blaster fire flew past us. I spared a glance behind us to see a few stray stormtroopers chasing after us. Finn, who was an exceptional shot, took care of as many as he could and succeeded in protecting our group as we hurried aboard the ship.

“Finn and Rey on guns,” I directed as we sprinted down the hallway, “Chewie, I need you to keep an eye on the hyperdrive. It gave us trouble getting here. Poe, with me.” Poe and I dashed to the cockpit and settled into our seats, I gave him credit for not taking the pilot’s seat. He knew it was my ship thus, I was calling the shots. “How you feeling about this?” he asked as I lifted the ship off the ground and flew us above the city. He already knew what trouble we were going to be flying into.

“Considering the hyperdrive is on the fritz meaning lightspeed is a question mark and we’re almost definitely going to have First Order ships waiting for us,” I said, giving him a quick smile, “Never better.” I didn’t have time to see the smirk I know I’d earned as I maneuvered us out of the atmosphere where surprise surprise, there was a small fleet of TIE Fighter’s awaiting us. 

“We’ve got company,” I reported into my headset, “I’m going in.” Poe adjusted the necessary controls as I flew headfirst into the center of the group of ships. They started firing, shaking the ship every few seconds when they actually managed to make a hit. There were six TIE’s that I now had following me in a neat line.

“If you swing around,” Rey said over the headset, “Finn and I can handle it from there.” “You read my mind,” I replied, hanging a sharp left so us and the line of ships were parallel. I watched as Finn and Rey perfectly executed the idea and took out four of the six. 

“Chewie, how we looking?” Poe shouted to the back of the ship, a barrage of muffled wookie roars coming in reply, “I have no idea what he just said. “Not my fault you haven’t learned Wookie yet,” I said as I dodged what would’ve been a critical shot if I’d been a second late, “He said he thinks he’s almost done.” “Think?” The remaining two TIE’s had managed to get in front of us and were flying straight towards us. Instinct, and a bit of the signature Solo recklessness, took over my body and I flew faster toward them before turning the ship on its side.

“Guys, I’m gonna set you guys up,” I called to Finn and Rey first, “Chewie, you better hope that hyperdrive works. Poe, get ready to take us to lightspeed.” “When do you want me to do that?”

“You’ll know when,” I said before slipping between the two ships. Quick as I could, I turned the Falcon upside down and dove straight down. As the fighters turned and made the mistake of flying parallel to one another, I timed it perfectly and pulled back up while underneath them. Like we were functioning as one body, Finn and Rey took their shots and blew up the ships simultaneously seconds before Poe took his cue to successfully send us to lightspeed.

As soon as I’d set our course for Ajan Kloss, Poe and I sunk back into our seats. “Will you do something for me?” “Anything,” Poe replied, brushing his fingers against my hand.

“Will you admit that I could give you a run for your money at the title of ‘Best Pilot?” 

Poe retracted his hand immediately and stood up, “Except that.”

I laughed out loud as he retreated from the cockpit, “I just saved your ass, Dameron.” “Thank you,” he called from the hallways, I snickered as I got up to follow him.

————

Days after the failed mission, I was settled in mine and Poe’s room buried in my data pad. It had been raining all day so Rey and I were excused from training which gave me a chance to catch up on my clerical work. Everything was as normal as normal could be. 

I crossed the room to retrieve something. 

I stopped in my tracks.

Someone was there, but not in the room.

In my mind.

Y/n.

The data pad fell from my hands, the glass screen shattering around my feet.

Ren.

————

A/N: Did you honestly think I was going to let this end on a happy note? 😂 We got angst for days coming up... Hope you enjoyed, let me know if you’d like to be tagged! ✨

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