#or anyone else close enough to know their bond has been severed for six months

[aflawedfashion]

Even if Siuan has suspicions that Moiraine and probably Lan have turned to the dark, I don't think she'd do anything too drastic without proof. Everyone else though... they have no loyalty to her, and from the outside, Moiraine and Lan are the weirdest, most suspicious pair they've ever seen. Obviously guilty.

[closhelby]

Black Hand.

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: usual Peaky shit

Prompt: none bar the scene itself.

Word Count: 1,796.

Author note: wrote this three fucking times I’m at my wits end! Unsure to make this into a few parts.

——

Y/N woke again, at the crack of dawn, rolling over checking her watch, 5.36AM. This was the usual for her, since leaving Birmingham she could barely sleep past 6am, since the breakdown of her marriage.

It was Christmas morning, the first she was spending with only one of her two children. Charlie, y/n’s eldest son was spending his Christmas with his father this year, since splitting y/n and Tommy regularly had sex behind her boyfriends back, and then she fell pregnant, with her now two year old Harry. However, Tommy wasn’t aware of this child being his, and as far as everyone else was aware it was Roberts child.

Y/n rolled out of bed, and began to wash and get ready for the day ahead. She sat at her dressing table, thinking, as she did regularly, how it would’ve been if they didn’t spit. There was still very clearly tension there, sexual especially. Due to this, y/n cut all interaction with Tommy, whenever they needed to talk over Charlie, she would get nanny’s and maids to travel with him.

Just finishing her makeup, finishing her all off with a spritz of perfume and putting on her watch, which now shown it as 6.56am. Y/n went downstairs, starting to make herself a cup of tea when she was startled with the letterbox chattering as the postman put today’s Mail. She moved over to the door, bending over to pick up the letters, opening the first one to reveal a white card with a black hand on the front.

“Fuck!” Y/n’s heart started beating at a rapid rate, she knew that this meant kill or be killed. She needed to get her and Harry out of there ASAP. They weren’t far behind and they already knew where she lived. She ran back upstairs, grabbing overnight bags and stuffing them with her most valuable items and clothes she could possibly wear before doing the same for Harry. All while trying to be as quiet as she could because she didn’t want to wake Rob.

Y/n ran from the house to the car sat on the front drive, she didn’t even bother to ask a driver. She was going alone. Leaving alone. Without an explanation. Despite the severity of the situation, this was brewing for a long time. The current relationship was a cover up. Y/n accepted the fact that the only man she will ever love will remain Thomas Shelby, and she knew it would be the same for him. And I think that’s why they both didn’t file for a divorce.

Quickly packing the car with things she may need for herself and Harry, she ran back upstairs to collect the sleeping boy from his bed and placed him into the front seat of the car. He continued to sleep throughout the car ride, back to Small Heath. Y/n knew Tommy like the back of her hand, she knew that everyone that is associated with the Shelby name would have been dealt a black hand, and knew the only place they could possibly be safe would be in the polluted streets of Birmingham.

Turning the car onto Watery Lane, as all those childhood memory’s flooded back. From when she ran about with John as a kid, to when her and Ada would get into trouble together in her early teens, all the way to building a large profitable business with her husband, all came flooding to her. A rush of emotion, clearly visible on her face as the car came to a halt outside the once betting den. Y/n rarely had any emotion showing, only Tommy would see that in the many nights they spent alone, but that was the same for both of them. They acted tough to everyone else but vulnerable for each other. The bond they had, partners in crime, was admired, despite them both being gangsters.

Tommy was very clearly heartbroken from the downfall in their relationship, he also believed that y/n was the only woman for him in the long run. But the only way he felt that he could get over that was her under someone else. He turned to Lizzie on the regular, and as y/n still kept in contact with Ada, she knew about this. Y/n was very alike Tommy in this sense, if she needed to find something out, it would always come her way, weather she needed to look for it or not. Ultimately they shared a child together, technically two, but there was still so much love there between the both of them.

“Fucking hell,” y/n muttered before kicking in the door that stood before her. Her two year old son clutching to her chest, still fast asleep as she walked towards the family she still loved dearly. Pol loved her, loved her like her own, but they both had a similar trait, they never backed down. And sometimes like Tommy, they would argue for days on end.

Y/n stood before the table, where all but Tommy sat before her. She quickly scanned the room, noticing a blonde woman, she knew was Linda, but hadn’t met was looking at her with a very foul face on her. Ada on the other hand was smiling, excited to see her best friend after years of being away. Tommy standing to her left, eyes wide wondering why his wife was stood before him, in small Heath, with a young child in her hand.

Pol broke the silence first, “What the fuck are you doing here? Tommy tell ya?”

“No however, since you know, I find out absolutely anything I need to,” y/n spoke directing a foul look to Lizzie who was stood over in the corner, “I have also been dealt a black hand.”

There was a mutter of fuck sakes throughout the room, as they realised this was a bit more real than before. Tommy then started to talk about the issue at hand.

“Why are you starting when Johns not here?”

The room fell cold, distant and all eyes were trying to avoid hers. But Tommy wasn’t, he didn’t avoid her gaze as y/n turned to look at him. He very rarely lied to her, he simply couldn’t get away with it if anything, y/n found out everything.

“Fucking ‘ell Tommy, tell me!”

“John was killed this morning, on his front door step infront of his wife.”

Tears started to form in the once emotionless woman, the room felt as though it was caving in on them. Her legs felt heavy, like she could collapse to the ground at any moment, but her head felt light. She quickly muttered to Tommy, handing the baby over, stumbling back to process what she had just been told. John was before all this, they were best friends since they were about 4. They went all throughout school together, and because y/n dad had passed before he could walk her down the isle, John did.

“Those fuckin’ bastards! Christmas Day! Im going to fucking kill them myself,” y/n screamed in frustration.

“She won’t cope well with this,” Ada spoke quietly enough that the table could hear but y/n couldn’t. Ada approached her, giving her a soft cuddle of comfort. Y/n didn’t cry, she didn’t cry infront of anyone. But she was very close today.

She composed herself, breathing out before standing up, “why did I have to marry into this shit?”

“Why haven’t you divorced him?”

Ada knew the answer, she always had.

They both moved back over to the table, Ada returning to her seat while y/n stood by Tommy’s side. He still stood there holding his own child, without the knowledge of it. He continued to speak about the issues they were currently facing with Luca Changretta, but y/n wasn’t even listening to what he was saying, simply zoning out to how weird her life was. She’s looking at the love of her life while they’re no longer together, holding their second son that he has no clue about.

“Y/n?”

Her head quickly shot up following the direction of the voice. Arthur.

“Hm?”

“Peace or truce?” Tommy spoke.

“Peace”

“Very well. Six peace, two truce.” He quickly handed Harry back over to y/n before heading back upstairs. The group got up and left to do their own thing, while Ada sat at the table waiting for the catch up that was well needed between them both.

��Two seconds, I’m just gonna put Harry up to bed.” Ada nodded in response as y/n made her way upstairs to put Harry to bed. She opened the door to find Charlie sleeping in the small bed, leaning over to put Harry at the back of him, giving both of them a peck on the cheek before turning to see Tommy in the door way.

“Your new boyfriend is the dad? But your not married to him?”

“No I’m not married to him.”

“So you had a child out of wedlock?”

She sighed. She wasn’t going to lie to him anymore, there was enough damage and if she knew she would have to spend the next few months living with him, she needed to get it out there as soon as possible.

“No, I’m married.”

“yes, to me.”

Y/n walked over to him, pulling him into the room and closing the door behind him, aware of the fact this house was full. He took a seat on the small chair in the corner, while y/n stood slightly back from him.

“Remember that last fuck we had. Before I refused to see you.”

He nodded.

“I refused to see you because I was pregnant, and I knew it was yours.”

“Fuck sake y/n.” Tommy spoke, running his hands through his hair.

The room then went silent. The two of them not knowing what to say next, for the first time in years they were speechless.

Y/n decided to break it, “He knows. Rob knows he’s not his, he can see it, but it’s never been mentioned. Harry also knows who you are, I’ve shown him pictures of you that I have.”

Tommy stood up abruptly, making his way over to her. His hands wrapped round her waist as he pulled her closer to him. Y/n was looking, and clearly getting lost in his blue eyes. Tommy leaned in to her, their lips meeting softly,y/n began to kiss back. The feeling this was what they both had longed for. Both of them having sex with others that meant absolutely nothing to them. The bedroom door swings open to reveal Finn stood there, his mouth hung wide.

“A - Ada’s wondering where you are?”

Y/n smiled before pulling out the embrace, muttered a thanks then proceeded to go downstairs. She turns round as she’s on the third stair down, “don’t say a thing Finn,”

[jetaime-jespere]

Old Times All Over (Part 1 of 2)

A very special thank you to @sequinsmile-x for the beta!

Exactly six months pass before he can’t stand it anymore.

Aaron takes a risk and goes to Emily while she's undercover in Paris.

Rating: M

Exactly six months pass before he can’t stand it anymore. The weight of her absence is unbearable; it follows him around as if lingering in hidden shadows and settling deep in his soul, an indelible stain that doesn’t fade as the days pass by. He bears the team’s grief, shoulders it and doesn’t let himself handle his own. It feels wrong to mourn her as if she were actually dead when in reality she lingers somewhere very different, another kind of hellish existence. He often finds himself wondering what she’d say about all of it. Emily would have scoffed at the ornate casket, rolled her eyes at the formality of the Catholic service the Ambassador insisted upon. He’d been the one to make the call on the flight back to DC. Elizabeth knew right away why he was calling, and the detached coldness in her tone was merely a coping mechanism, for the older woman’s grief seeped through the phone as he relayed the news. Aaron could scarcely reach her eyes as he offered condolences in person, the words heavy and thick on his tongue. Elizabeth’s questions were answered with the vague formalities that were constructed as part of a grand lie, held together with threads that ran the risk of being unraveled with the slightest misstep.

Read the rest below the cut or on Ao3

Emily’s life depended on the sanctity of those lies, as did his own.

No one can ever find out about this, JJ had whispered to Aaron and Clyde behind a firmly closed door in the depths of that hospital in Boston. It was eerily dark, their heads bent together in near silence as initial plans were laid. For her safety, and all of ours. It felt oddly conspiratorial to plan her disappearance as she laid just feet away, oblivious to it all and very much alive. But Doyle escaped into the night like a ghost, and that meant Emily had to go too whether they liked it or not. It didn’t matter that they hunted monsters like him every day. They knew the moment her heart started again, that she would pull through, that she’d never be free. He’ll never stop looking for her. Clyde’s voice was like rubbing salt in a wound that burned through his skin.The tension between them was thick, laden with the unspoken tension of a tentative truce and a keen awareness of the pain that coursed within each of them. He will go to the ends of the earth to find her.

Aaron disliked Clyde Easter from the moment he laid eyes on the man. Perhaps it was his closeness to Emily - she trusted him, more so than she did Aaron, as was being made abundantly clear. It still stung - that she’d gone to him in her moment of need without even once considering just maybe the team could have helped. Maybe it was the way Clyde knew her so intimately, almost as well as a lover would - a delicate balance of adoration and indignance, a fierce desire to protect the oaths they’d sworn years ago, loyalty and trust woven from years of brushes with peril only to do it all over again. But it was more than that; he knew from the moment Clyde sat before him in an interrogation room in Boston his loathing ran deep. Only later would Aaron realize they both paid a similar price for loving the same woman.

The idea to go to her comes to him once Dave has finally disappeared for the night and the bottle of scotch is empty once again. It’s a ritual they share now, unspoken yet expected, an attempt at burying the worst of their grief. It never quite hits the mark, because Dave doesn’t know the truth. His words are wise and well intended, but he speaks of loss in terms of death, and it’s one thing Aaron can’t think about for too long. But it’s some of the only company he has once the building quiets down, so whenever he shows up at the door, he doesn’t object. Most nights they leave together after a round. The echo of their shoes striking the marble floors is the only noise between them when they pass the framed photos of agents long gone on the walls, now with Emily among them. He wants to shake someone, tell them she doesn’t belong there. “Don’t look,” Dave tells him every time. “It won’t bring her back.”

He always looks.

Tonight Aaron lingers, the idea now an intrusive thought reverberating through his weary mind. It’s dangerous - violates every rule of her disappearance - and puts anyone who knows at risk. He shuffles the files on his desk only to do it once more, rearranges the pens in the cup and flips through a few reports that still require his signature. His phone rings; he doesn’t have to turn it over to know it’s Jessica asking where he is, that Jack is asking for him. He was supposed to have been home a few hours ago. Instead of answering that phone, he digs for a different one. This one has stayed hidden in his desk since the night they returned from Boston. Clyde had pushed it into his hand at the last possible moment before he boarded a flight, his face stony and solemn. “If you ever need to reach me, use this.” It might be the closest thing to a friendship they’ll ever have, a twisted kind of bond that comes along with a shared secret they very well might take to the grave.

“I was wondering when you would call,” comes the lilting British accent on the other end when the line connects. “I thought for sure it would be sooner.” Clyde’s voice is haunting; it takes Aaron right back to Boston when it was just the two of them in that interrogation room, piercing blue eyes up against his darker ones as the pieces fell into place. If you want to stop that man, you have to put a bullet between his eyes yourself. He barely recognizes his own voice; it strains when he explains exactly why he’s calling, once the doors of his office are firmly shut. Even then, it’s a near whisper.

“You do realize what you’re asking of me?” Clyde demands. He’s not exactly surprised by the request, though. After all, he and Aaron had a few things in common. “The risks of all of this?” He’s whispering, the hiss of his voice biting even from thousands of miles away, wherever the hell he might be. “I thought you did things by the book at the BAU.”

“Can you make it work or not?” Aaron’s terseness matches Clyde’s hostility, a thinly veiled shield for his grief that consumes him.

There’s a pause on the other end, followed by a contemplative inhale as if he’s considering his answer, like he holds the power in his hands himself. “You should have more faith in me, Agent Hotchner.”

...

It’s all a little too easy to coordinate once the initial call is made, much to his surprise. For two weeks, things continue as normal, or as close to normal as possible, a period of limbo-like freefall. A case takes them to Portland, another to Providence. While the team is across the country, Clyde takes care of the multiple identities and aliases Aaron will use in Europe, along with a reservation at a nondescript hotel and God only knows what else. He’s barely back in Virginia for an hour when a text message on the burner phone reveals a series of coordinates, a meeting location.

“A direct flight to Charles de Gaulle might seem suspect,” Clyde whispers, nestled amongst the shadows along the Potomac River three nights before Aaron slated to leave. “There’s a flight from Regan to Heathrow, then to Paris. You’ll have a different identity for each, so best not to get confused.”

Aaron bristles at the snarkiness in his tone. “And my cover story?”

Clyde scoffs, as if disgusted by the question. “You’ll tell your team you’re being called to London to consult with Scotland Yard as a favor to a friend. I’ve already taken care of those details as well - a fake case report. Familiarize yourself with them so they don’t suspect anything.” He passes over the thick envelope, holding onto it for just a moment too long.

“How will I find her? Once I’m there?”

“Leave that up to me, Aaron. She’ll be waiting for you.”

“Thank you,” is all Aaron can say once he holds the weight of it in his hands. “I know you took a huge risk to do this.”

Clyde stuffs his hands in his jacket pockets and shuffles his feet awkwardly. “I love her too, you know.” It’s certainly the most honest he’s ever been, something that looks like hurt flooding his features. But he stiffens a few seconds later with an authoritative clearing of his throat. “Bloody hell, Aaron, for all of our sakes, I hope you know what you’re doing.”

...

Aaron drops Jack off at Jessica’s. He relays the same details he told the team a few hours before with the same feigned degree of calm assurance and mock annoyance - just a few days away, work related. No one suspects a thing. In fact, the rest of them seem almost happy for him to go. “A change of scenery might be nice,” Dave says as they walk out of the BAU.

It’s risky, inherently a bad idea and yet, it isn’t enough to deter him. There’s an element of betrayal he feels for lying to the team, for they’re still reeling from their collective loss. They miss her just as much as he does; none of this is fair. He drowns it out with a pair of headphones and a stiff drink as the plane roars to life and lifts into the sky as the sun sets.

He wakes up hours later in London with a headache and an all too familiar ache in his chest.

…

It’s another few hours of travel before he actually lands in Paris. He’s completely focused, determined as he collects his luggage and leaves the airport. He destroys the first passport moments after the plane touches solid ground and tucks the next one in his jacket pocket for easy access, the others will stay safely in his travel bag. Aaron calls Clyde on a new burner phone, one of several included in the envelope of documents that was passed over in a shadowy spot by the Potomac. He answers on the first ring, doesn’t even bother with a greeting. Instead he rattles off an address Aaron commits to memory and adds, “she’ll be waiting for you,” before the line goes dead. The address, he soon finds, is a small cafe in the fifth Arrondissement, the Latin Quarter. At first it seems risky, to meet in public, but it’s probably safer than somehow having a record of her address.

The woman at the small table in the back of the cafe is inconspicuous, but he spots her immediately upon opening the door. She could be anyone; she fits right in. One slender leg crossed over the other, a chic knee-length boot peeking out under the table. A simple raincoat, hair cut just below her chin. It’s lighter than it was the last time he saw her but still a rich shade of brown.The only giveaway is the state of the nails on her right hand - not manicured, bit down and ragged. It’s her, exactly where Clyde said she would be. He doesn’t make a big show, just simply sits in the empty seat across from her, his heart pounding in his chest when he sees her face for the first time in months. Emily’s hand is unsteady as her fingers wrap around the espresso on the table. “I’ve been waiting.” It sounds formal; she makes no move to shake his hand or hug him, or display any bit of emotion, but her lips tremble and her eyes well up a little.

“I got a little lost along the way,” Aaron shrugs a little, keeping his tone light for any ears privy to their conversation. She smiles, probably picturing him lost on the maze-like streets of Paris, the streets that still don’t feel like home to her either. “I’m here now.” It carries more weight than it ever would; all he wants to do is touch her to prove to himself this isn’t just part of the fucking nightmare he’s lived since March, one he’ll wake from wrapped in sheets damp with sweat and a pounding heart. She’s very much real, very much alive in front of him, but what the Emily he sees isn’t the Emily he remembers. Paris might be beautiful but it hasn’t been kind to her. She’s thinner and paler, shades of exhaustion on her face. Over the years Aaron has seen her sleep deprived more times than he could count - the toll of back to back cases added up - but this is something else entirely. It’s the culmination of fear from constantly looking over her shoulder, the toll of the unknown. Would Doyle ever stop looking for her, or would the rest of her days be spent on the run, alone, days that blend into weeks into months and years? Would she ever come home, to the only family she’s really ever had?

Emily studies him too, undoubtedly shocked at what she sees. Time hasn’t been kind to him, either. He’s a shell of what he used to be. A subtle shadow on his face that’s new, he’s weary eyed and tense. She knows it’s not because of the better part of a day he’s spent traveling - it’s much more than that. It’s a haunting look, with the memory of how quickly things spiraled out of control. He’d been helpless to stop any of it; Emily knows the blame he places on himself. If their hurried goodbye in the hospital was any indicator of the torment of what he’s been through the last six months, then she knows it’s been hell for him. Just like it’s been for her. She pushes another espresso, this one untouched, in his direction. “How much time do you have?” English feels foreign on her tongue. It’s been weeks, months maybe, since she’s had a real conversation not in French. It’s an act. This is all an act, but one her life depends on. Every minute she spends walking the arrondissements is a risk. The fear curls around her spine a little too tightly. She glances around the coffee shop, eyes scanning through without spending too long on any one thing. It can’t look obvious, only effortless.

“Not nearly enough.” Aaron wonders how much she knows about this, just what Clyde told her about the logistics of his visit. “We have about forty eight hours.”

He doesn’t miss the longing, wistful look in her eyes when she nods, the slightest tip of her head. It’s not enough time, it never will be. But it’s all they have, all they might ever have. They speak in short sentences, vague and cryptic, as they sip the espresso. It’s stronger than he expected, she seems immune to its effects. She doesn’t call him Aaron, and he’s careful not to call her Emily. He doesn’t know her new name, either. Not even Clyde could give him that information - it was probably better that way. They make superficial conversation - the rain here and the heat there, the bakery on the corner with chocolate croissants and the headlines on the newspaper that sits on the table. He plays along as she explains, as if he fits into this world she’s had no other choice but to assimilate into. To anyone in the cafe, they could be old friends, lovers even, with years of history between them, a casual intimacy spun like a web. The ease of lulls in conversation, a subtle glance every so often, the comfort of the proximity of someone else.

And hidden somewhere in their conversation, behind a facade of lies, is something else. What no one knows, what they haven’t quite managed to forget themselves, is something happened between them once before.

...

It was spring, after the dust had settled from Foyet and the world started to turn again, albeit slowly. Only when things settled into a new kind of normal - the humble experience of single parenting, relying on Jessica like he never had before - did Aaron realize something had changed between them. Perhaps it was the unwavering way Emily stood by him even when he wouldn’t admit to needing it, or how she picked up his loose ends without making him feel like his life was unraveling before his eyes. It was the way she mourned Haley’s death, a steadfast presence at her funeral, and her attentiveness to Jack in the months after.

He’d been divorced for more than a year, separated for at least two. Aaron no longer mourned his marriage, but the loss of his son’s mother, the woman he’d shared more than half of his life with. But someone else started to preoccupy his mind - dark hair, a blinding grin, a wicked sense of humor. It was becoming harder to ignore; she was everywhere. So a few months later in the spring, when he found Emily, nursing a drink at the hotel bar that had clearly seen better days, after a particularly brutal case in Scranton, he knew exactly how the night would end. It would cross a line - railroad through any professional boundary they still maintained. But an unsub had walked free earlier that night, a child was dead, and while it wasn’t her fault, he watched any trace of composure vanish from her face when they got back to the hotel as she retreated into herself.

It shouldn’t have happened that way - definitely not how he imagined it would. But Emily was desperate in her need to forget, he was desperate to help her do so. It was frantic, the clash of her teeth against his an ironic reminder that this was the first time he ever kissed her. Aaron pressed her back against the wall, sucked a bruise into her neck, and buried himself inside of her with one smooth push. He swallowed her moans with his mouth, the snap of his hips brutal and sharp. She reveled in it, her need for him and this, legs hitched over his hips as she clenched around him.

“Wanted you for so long,” he growled as she came around him. Her fingers were like vices around his shoulders, clinging to him as he fucked her through it, unrelenting. “Thought about you, about this.”

“Me too,” Emily gasped, the simple admission triggering his own release until he came apart and took her with him one more time.

Aaron had to carry her to the bed in the middle of his hotel room. It was the most gentle he’d been all evening, gingerly placing her in the center of it, following her down and pulling her into his arms. She was bruised and sore, he wore the scratches of her nails on his back and shoulders. Emily curled into him like she’d been doing it forever, snuggling into his chest. “I still can’t feel my legs.”

“We should have done that a long time ago,” he mused into the darkness, dragging his fingertips down her spine, listening to her slow, even breaths. It’s an admission more than an observation, and the low laugh that comes from her is all the confirmation he needs to know she thinks the same thing.

It happened again hours later, in the middle of the night, this time softer, slow and unhurried. He made her come twice with his mouth, coaxing her through each one. Aaron took his time, marveling at her and whispering praises into her skin. She beamed under his touch, besotted under his gaze. He studied the sharpness of her ribs, the curve of her waist, the length of her legs. And then he held her hands in his own above her head, rocking into her, metronomic and even. He kissed her like a lover should, his lips still wet with her slick, her legs pressed tightly wrapped around his waist as she crested against him. He collapsed against her shortly after, grappling for her hands, leaving kisses along her collarbones - anything to be as close to her as he possibly could.

But it was over after that.

Timing once again failed them. Not because they didn’t have the chance, but because they were both afraid something would change, whatever friendship they built over time, and they wouldn’t be able to take it back. They never talked about it, never even acknowledged anything had happened in that hotel room in Scranton once it was over. It lingered between them, the awareness of it sometimes all-consuming if she got too close or they somehow ended up sitting beside one another on the jet. But things happened - JJ’s untimely departure, coupled with Seaver’s arrival, the grueling toll of case after case. It was buried, hidden behind the burden of their jobs and the baggage they carried, both too stubborn to admit what was right in front of them.

And then she slipped away, shortly after a case in Montana. Emily’s typical professionalism, her unmatched level of skill was marred by uncharacteristic lateness and a short fuse, as if something had settled into her mind that she couldn’t shake. She was secretive and jumpy, slowly withdrawing from them all before his own eyes. And he’d been too caught up in what they weren’t saying, what they were hiding from, to even ask what was wrong.

Aaron never saw it coming. Until it was too late.

…

The cafe suddenly feels suffocating, the four walls trapping them in. What started as an alluring scent of coffee beans and freshly baked pastries now feels cloying, overwhelming. It’s just a little too loud as their conversation fades into silence. After all, there’s only so much small talk that can be made when he only has one question. Why? Across from him Emily shifts in her chair yet still wears her pleasant smile, still playing the act she’s perfected over the last several months. But she’s tearing at her fingernails, a sure sign that she’s nervous. He knows her tells by now, all of them. “What do we do now?” She asks, her voice barely audible. Whether it’s intentional or not he isn’t sure,

He leans in, takes her hand in his own. “Let’s get out of here.”

[justlightlysedated]

Soulmate 51!!!

51. Your soulmate’s current thoughts about you will show up on your skin for a short while.

Miss you, miss you, miss you, appears across the back of his left hand, a light tingling sensation like someone was passing their finger across his skin announces their presence just as Michael picks up his beer.

A warmth fuzzy and soft, simmers in the pit of his stomach, and he bites down on the smile that wants to spread across his face.

Instead he drops the beer back on top of the table, and closes his eyes thinking, I miss you, so much more.

When he opens his eyes, feels a little shocked to see Maria sitting across from him.

It had been almost six months since their break up, and with all of the restrictions in place thanks to the quarantine, Michael hadn’t had to try very hard to avoid her.

He hadn’t even heard her truck come up, probably too distracted by Alex. It’s been a while since Michael has fully embraced their soulmate bond, and over the last couple of months he and Alex have been leaving more and more messages on each other, deliberately thinking them at each other.

After hearing Alex sing that song, he couldn’t exactly keep his thoughts to himself, and when he’d run out of the bar, feeling a weird sort of embarrassment at the fact that everyone could see his thoughts spread across the backs of Alex’s hands and up and around his neck, almost like a collar.

Alex hadn’t followed after him, but the words, me too had settled around Michael’s left wrist like a snug bracelet.

"Is there something I can help you with, DeLuca?" He asks, covering the back of his hand with his other hand, almost automatically, so used to keeping the words that had sporadically appeared on his skin while they were dating away from her.

She opens her mouth and then closes it, brow furrowing, and looking a little frustrated, like the conversation isn’t going the way she thought it would.

Michael takes in the way she keeps licking her lips, and her shifty eyes, and her fidgety fingers, and the fact that her leg is bouncing so much the buckle of her boot is hitting the metal legs of the chair. 

And then he tilts his head to the side and takes in her outfit, something that he might’ve noticed right off the bat several months ago. She’s wearing one of those short jumper things, that he’s pretty sure he’s heard Isobel call a romper, in a brown color that very nearly matches her own skin tone, the neckline plunges all the way down, exposing a line down the middle of her chest with a thick black belt around her waist. Her hair was left curly and messy, the way that it usually looked in the mornings before she showered and took a straightener to it, the way that Michael used to tell her that he liked it.

She’s not wearing a lot of makeup, but the fact that she is, along with everything else, paints the picture of why she’s here for Michael, and Michael can’t help feeling both incredulous and a little bit angry.

Before he can say anything, Maria pushes her shoulders back, making the slit in the romper widen as she looks at Michael from beneath heavy lids.

"How've you been?" She asks instead of getting to the point. "It's been a while."

And the way she says the last sentence erases any doubts that Michael had in his head.

Maria was here not as an ex who was once a friend to check up on him, but as an ex who wants to keep reaping from the benefits of their failed relationship.

Michael hadn't been lying to Maria when he told her that he loved her, and it had hurt so much when she'd told him that it was over.

But it had hurt even more when Alex had told him that he was leaving, and it was then that Michael realized that while he did love her, he loved Alex more, and in a way that was completely different.

If Maria left today, and didn't talk to him again, Michael would go on living his life, maybe a little sad for a while, but he'd get over it.

If Alex decided to never speak to him again, Michael wouldn't die, but it would feel like he was.

It was that easy and that simple. So it's easy and simple, to grab his beer and take a long swig and then speak.

"I'm doing fine," he says, voice clipped, trying to copy how Alex talks to strangers who won't leave him alone at the bar. "Things are rough, yeah, but that's the same everywhere these days."

"I hear that," Maria says, chuckling a little and then making a hand at his beer. "You're not gonna offer me one?"

"I would," Michael says, taking the last swing of his beer. "If the beer was what you were here for."

Maria raises both eyebrows at that, almost like she hadn't expected to be caught out so soon, or like she'd been expecting for Michael to play along with her.

She tries to pull an innocent face at him, and then sighs, leaning back in her chair, and crossing her arms over her chest.

"Fine, you want the truth? The truth is that it's been months and I am a girl with a healthy sex appetite, okay? And my choices were either going to a super spreader event, the two numbers on my phone that I would consider only under dire circumstances, or someone who wouldn't mind having sex with an ex."

She says the last choice, voice a little breathy and gives him a pointed look that would've worked on him months ago, but it barely makes a flame flicker now.

"When did I ever give you the impression that I wouldn't mind having sex with an ex?" Michael asks, honestly interested in the answer.

Maria gives him an incredulous look back, as though the answer should be obvious, and it hits him almost like a ton of  bricks to the solar plexus.

"You're talking about Alex?" He asks, feeling even more incredulous.

"Obviously," she says, and then clears her throat, batting her eyelashes. "I know it's technically not the same thing, but I know you still had feelings for me when we broke up, and breaking up didn't just make my feelings disappear, so I was hoping you wouldn't mind, giving me a helping hand."

"DeLuca," Michael says, trying to sound earnest and kind. "I'm flattered. Really. But the answer is no."

Maria blinks at him a few times like he'd pulled a rabbit out of his hat, "Are you serious?"

She gives him a look like he would be an idiot to reject what she's offering, and there is a small part of him that is yelling at him to take the offer, because sex is sex, but he doesn't listen to that part because there is an even bigger part reminding him that Alex is coming back and that things will be different when he gets here.

"Yeah," Michael says, looking at her evenly.

Her eyes fall away from his face, just as he feels a tingling sensation across his forearm.

Michael lifts his arm to see the words as they appear.

Not possible.

Michael sees her noticing the words that must appear, and her eyebrows almost shoot off her face in her clear surprise.

"So that's why?" She says, sounding like she just figured something out. "You found your soulmate."

"I've known who my soulmate's been for a while now, DeLuca," he says. "Knowing that it was him didn't make it any easier for us to be together."

Maria frowns, "Your soulmate is a guy. But I thought that Alex was the only guy you've ever been interested in."

She says it with conviction like in the months that they dated they talked about their exes, but she never asked, and Michael never brought it up.

"I'm not straight with an Alex exception," Michael says, and he can't help the sneer when she fixes him with an incredulous look. "I'm bisexual, and I've been sexually attracted to and sexually involved with plenty of more men than just Alex."

Maria makes a face at that, like she doesn't understand, but Michael isn't a sex ed teacher, and he's not going to pull up charts and explain to her what she doesn't understand.

"What about Alex?" She asks, looking angrier by the second. "You're going to break his heart with this whole soulmate thing."

"Like you didn't come here with the intention of breaking his heart by propositioning me," Michael retorts.

Maria colors slightly, but doesn't back down.

She opens her mouth to keep speaking, probably to defend herself, but Michael shakes his head a little.

"Listen, Alex has nothing to worry about because he has a direct line to my thoughts about him at all times."

He gives her a pointed look and it still takes her a moment to realize it.

"Alex is your soulmate," she says, sounding both shocked and defeated.

"Yep," Michael says, popping the p, and wishing he still had another beer out here.

"How long have you known?"

"Since we were seventeen," he says and she makes a rude noise at the back of her throat.

She stares at him for a moment, stupefied and angry, "This was never going to actually work between us, huh?"

Michael just licks his lips, and gives her a helpless look, "Some things just aren't meant to be."

She nods her head sharply at that and then gets to her feet.

"Sorry, for bothering you, it won't happen again," she says and then turns to leave before Michael can say anything.

And then turns back around, "And please, don't tell anyone I was here. Me knowing that I fell low enough to do this is more than enough."

And then turns and actually makes it to her truck this time.

Michael lets the icy hurt that spreads across his chest at her parting words slide away.

Instead he looks back down at the words fading on his arm, and lets the warmth of knowing Alex is somewhere else thinking about him and missing Michael as much as Michael misses him, fill him up, chasing the rest of the chill away.

[pandoraborn]

Cruelty of the Beast - Part 12

( previous. )

Characters: c!Techno, c!Dream, c!Ranboo, c!Tommy, c!Phil, c!Wilbur Word count: 2154 words Content: phil and wilbur bonding, discussion of morality, the official calm before the storm

-----

Techno paces back and forth, fiddling with his fingers. He can’t resist shooting glances toward the wall. He can hear Phil and Wilbur yelling at each other through the wall, though Phil is clearly more angry than Wilbur is. Techno doesn’t blame Phil. It’s one thing to hear your son is not only alive and heading some evil plot to destroy the world, but to actually see him in person...

Techno is filled with conflicting emotions.

He’s not happy to see Ranboo with Tommy and Dream. He’d been coming around to actually trusting Ranboo, but seeing Ranboo stand protectively over Tommy as if Tommy hadn’t just participated in kidnapping him and Phil; this entire situation still feels like a fever dream.

Techno can’t even say he’s wholly against their idea either.

It’s the ultimate form of anarchy. He hadn’t considered that Tommy would be willing to do away with it, but Ranboo had hastily explained upon his arrival that Tommy just wanted to end all the pain he’d gone through at everyone’s hands. Techno hated that brief churning of guilt -he shouldn’t be responsible for some idiot teenager.

Techno stops pacing when he sees Phil storm back into the room, red faced and breathing heavily. Phil’s hair is messy, tendrils snaking across his face and falling into his red-rimmed eyes. The way his lips are pressed together tells Techno that the conversation, despite the yelling, had not gone well.

Wilbur follows behind, looking just as frazzled as Phil. Wilbur’s hands are trembling, and at once glance toward Techno, he shoves his hands in his pockets. “It’s for the best, Phil,” Wilbur finishes the argument. Techno can hear the finality in Wilbur’s voice, the ‘my decision is final’ tone. It’s that tone that Techno knows better than to argue with. Getting Wilbur alone soon though might help; Techno wonders if he’d have a better chance of getting to understand more than Phil. Though, Techno suspects the argument was less about the plan, and more about Phil’s shock over seeing Wilbur.

He stumbles back when Tommy rushes past him to cling to Wilbur’s side. Wilbur returns the embrace, wrapping his own arms around Tommy and holding him close.

“I don’t care about your ideas!” Phil snarls, whirling back around. It’s confirming Techno’s suspicions. “I helped blow up L’Manburg, and I’d do it again. I don’t care that you want to unleash a dragon. I care that you never told me about this! Haven’t you considered for a single second that I might have wanted to see you after you came back?”

The argument is clearly not finished, and now everyone is awkwardly standing around. Even Dream is poking his head around, taking a break from cooking, to see what the fuss is about. The whole scene playing out would be amusing, if not for the silence that falls in between each man speaking.

“So why are you telling me I’m brash and stupid?” Wilbur asks. “I’ve thought for months on this. Over a decade-”

“You’re brash and stupid because this whole time-” Phil starts, but he cuts himself off. Phil is not one to cry. Techno had never seen the man cry before. Phil is the type to laugh things off and let things go. Even at his angriest, he still somehow managed to remain calm.

Phil’s crying now.

“Because this whole time,” Phil continues, through clenched teeth,”I felt so guilty over what happened between us. The letters, me coming to see you only to find you begging for death, and...”

“Oh.” Wilbur softens. His shoulders deflate, he gently pushes Tommy to the side. Even his expression seems to soften. Is it a trick of the light, or do Wilbur’s eyes seem to turn a lighter shade of brown? He’s moving closer to Phil, reaching out. Wilbur grabs his father’s hands, clasping them between his own. “Phil I made some stupid decisions in the past, but this is one I’ve thought long and hard over. Call me evil, but I still don’t think so.”

“You’re not evil, you’re my son,” Phil whispers. “Stupid and impulsive, but I’d never think of you as evil. Nor Tommy, nor Ranboo.”

“Dream, maybe,” Tommy interjects. That earns a snort from Techno. Even Dream snorts. Tommy hadn’t said anything to anyone else about how he and Dream had seemed to bond, so it’s still somewhat of an inside joke to Techno, for now. He’s happy to keep it that way.

“So,” Techno says, when he figures the other two aren’t going to continue. “I take it we’re not being killed? Or ritually sacrificed on an alter made of like. I dunno, silver or something?”

Tommy and Ranboo both start laughing. “No Techno, why would you think-” Tommy doubles over, while Ranboo just points and laughs. Techno wonders if it would be a crime to behead teenagers, just for Dream to revive them.

“You don’t have to mock me,” Techno drawls. “This all feels too normal for a group of people about to end the world.” He lifts a hand, waving in Dream’s general direction. “At his word.”

“Correction: mine,” Wilbur states. “Don’t get me wrong, Dream and Ranboo helped set a lot of it into motion, but I was the one keeping things going behind the scenes, especially when Dream got all power trippy after I died. Someone still needs to knock him down a few pegs.”

“I can assist with that,” Phil chirps. Phil’s already reaching for a weapon with a twisted smile on his face. “Dream is a bit twisted, I’d have fun.”

“Wait,” Dream says, lifting his hands up in surrender. “I’m making you all food.”

“I already got him for that, dad,” Wilbur says. “I threatened to push him into the lava, because I don’t exactly like coming back to life to seeing Tommy covered in blood.”

“Uh, I don’t want to talk about this,” Tommy says nervously. “I really, really want to change the subject. Anything else.”

“When do we get to see the the dragon?” Techno has no reason to be malicious to Tommy anymore. Sure, Tommy is stupid and impulsive (gee, wonder where he gets that from), but they’re all on the same side now, and Techno isn’t actually angry anymore about his situation. He’s unhurt, Phil’s not being separated from him, and he’s even getting a delicious meal out of it. Win win win.

Oh, and dragons. That’s definitely a win.

“I can take you after we eat,” Ranboo says. When Dream clears his throat and shoots a glare at Ranboo, Ranboo grins. “Dream can take you after we eat. I’m not allowed in the end by myself.”

Dream nods approvingly. “We need to start setting the things up anyway,” Dream says. “The next several days are going to be hell, and we still need explosives, weapons, and anything to prepare us for war. That’s why we went to you two: because we know you’re able to grind and make shit. Though, this time, we intent to make it worth your while.”

“Oh, please,” Phil says. “You’re talking about total anarchy. Look at Techno’s face, I promise you that he’s excited about this. So what is it you need from us, exactly?”

“I got you,” Techo says. He starts listing off a checklist. “Netherite armor, enchanted bows, mending, sand, gravel, swords, more tools, I’m assuming all diamond and netherite?”

“The ground beneath us is untouched,” Wilbur says. “You and Ranboo can gather as much resources as you can find. While you do that, I was thinking of taking Tommy back into the SMP so we can start working on the perimeter. I think it’s high time we start planning for this.”

Phil nods. “I’ll go with you two, and Dream-”

“Don’t worry about me.” Dream smiles, something that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m going to stay here and keep working on the portal. Gotta make sure a dragon can fit through it, and I have the know-how to make it work. In the meantime, dinner’s ready.”

There’s a mad scramble to grab plates and divide food evenly between all six of them. This cabin doesn’t even have enough beds for six people, but they know how to make it work. It’s not like it’s hard to make and cram extra beds in the place.

Everyone sits on the floor to eat, sitting around in a circle. No one says anything anymore, too focused on their food. The lit candles cast shadows in the dim room, and Techno takes a moment to study everyone. Shadows play with the imagination, causing everyone to look more sinister than they are. But Techno knows everyone, well, most everyone, is just some form of broken and beaten down. No one can truly be evil, only deemed the bad guys by other people who don’t know any better.

He’d thought he wanted the syndicate, but this is so much bigger. Even Techno would admit he’s nervous over the whole thing, but he focuses on Wilbur especially. Wilbur doesn’t look like a bad guy, or even evil. He’s grinning at Tommy, ruffling the boy’s hair and cackling when Tommy tries hard not to spray his meal everywhere with suppressed laughter. It’s all far too ordinary.

“I have a question,” Techno asks. He sets his plate down carefully. “What makes a person the villain? What separates them between good and evil?”

Wilbur leans forward. “Do you have attachments?”

“I have Phil.”

“How far would you go for him?”

“I’d do everything for him,” Techno responds immediately. It’s true. Phil is his best friend, the only one he’s ever trusted completely and totally. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him.”

“Phil?” Wilbur turns his gaze toward Phil next, who nods.

“I’d do anything for Techno, and you.”

Wilbur straightens up. “I care about all of you on various levels. Tommy, the most. No offense, but you know what I mean. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him.” His expression goes soft again as he presses a hand to Tommy’s back. “We all have attachments to people, even Dream, who pretends he doesn’t. We care about people, we care about material objects, like our weapons, especially after we name them. We care about things, we still do things for each other. Is any of that evil to you?”

“No, Ranboo says softly. “None of that sounds evil.”

“But we’re about to unleash a dragon and end the world,” Wilbur continues. “So by definition, that’d make us the bad guys. Even if we believe wholeheartedly that we’re doing it for good reasons, the others might not see it that way. Would you still call us evil?”

Tommy shakes his head. “I don’t feel like anything about me’s changed. I still feel the same as I did weeks ago. Except now I’m with you, and you’re still ugly.”

“So.” Techno picks his plate back up, using his fork to push the food around. “It’s all subjective? Basically, we’re slapped with a label we may or may not deserve because of goals we have?”

“Not everything is black and white,” Wilbur says. “Take you, for example. When you blew up L’Manburg, you did it because the government was corrupt and needed to die out. You were doing it for what you thought was a good reason, even though everyone fought you. I see this as more of the same: Everything is corrupt and we need something brash to start over. No one needs to hurt anymore.”

“So grey areas,” Techno continues. He’s understanding more. “Shades of grey is easier to swallow, because I’ve never seen myself as evil, or a bad guy.”

“I don’t think any of us are really villains,” Wilbur says. “We’re all just another shade of grey, and everyone’s version of right versus wrong is different. Extreme, but I don’t think it’s wrong. Dream doesn’t count though, he’s done unquestionably villainous shit. Almost like he was trying to get people to hate him.”

“It didn’t completely work, I’m still stuck with five of you,” Dream mutters. “And for some reason, five of you are calling me your friend.”

Ranboo snorts. “You’ll get used to it Dream. Wait, five?” Ranboo whispers ‘what?’ in Tommy’s direction.

“Yeah.” Tommy sighs. “He actually apologized to me, can you believe that? He apologized and meant it.”

“Can confirm,” Phil says. “Techno and I both heard it.”

“Wow,” Wilbur says. “Even Dream has a heart. Cheers, everyone, to Dream finally growing up and admitting his wrongdoings.”

Everyone mutters a half-assed ‘cheers’ before going back to their food. Techno leans back and stares at his plate. Wilbur is the only one to make him feel better about his own decisions. Sure, he always had Phil backing him up, but someone actively putting his own guilt to rest and telling him he’s justified?

Techno likes being a shade of grey. It’ll make the explosions of color later even more beautiful.

[arashikitten]

Monkie Kid Soulmate Au

Thank you, MKD, for helping me create this monstrosity. 

I noticed there weren’t any soulmate au’s for Monkie Kid yet so I decided to make one Myself!

In this au, there are three types of soulmate a person can have: the typical romantic soulmate, platonic soulmate (i.e. best friends, family, things of that nature), and enemy soulmates (rivals, nemesis, mortal enemies, things along that line). People can have multiple soulmates, and in fact it is very common for people to have three or more at any given point! It is also possible for someone to have only one or two types of soulmate: for example, someone who is asexual might only have platonic soulmates and/or enemy soulmates. 

As for how one identifies their soulmate, a small mark/symbol will appear on the wrist, palm, or back of the person a year before they meet their soulmate in person, at which point the mark will take on color. The placement of the marks often determines the type of bond: a mark on the palm indicates a romantic bond, on the wrist indicates a platonic bond, and on the back indicates an enemy bond (that being said, there have been instances where this rule does not apply).

Now that that’s out of the way, let’s get into the meat of this au!

Red Son is born with two soulmarks: A stylized, cartoon bull head, and a large, red and gold fan. They both appear on his back, and from a young age, he tries to ignore the possibility that his own parents may one day become his worst enemies. He grows up very close to DBK and Iron fan: he wants desperately to maintain a good relationship with them, and he ends up cutting off any sort of interaction with anyone else.

DBK gets sealed under the mountain, and Red’s world shatters. Both he and Iron fan grieve for a long time, and Red Son now feels even more alone. 

So, he starts attempting to free his father from his prison under the mountain.

Fast forward about 300 years, to when MK is born without a single mark. He grows up and for ten years, his palms, wrists and back remain blank.

Then, about a month after his tenth birthday, a small, grey dragon appears, wrapped around his wrist, along with a grey cartoon pig wearing a chef’s hat (Pigsy) and a small cicada (Mr. Tang). 

Six months later, MK gets kicked out of his home, living on the streets for five months until, late one night, Pigsy finds him in the alleyway next to the noodle shop (The small stylized monkey face on Pigsy’s wrist glows with color. He and Tang adopt Mk two weeks later.). 

Mei walks into the shop about a month later, while Tang is telling MK a story from Journey to the West. All three of the soul marks on her wrist light up, and she and Mk become best friends over a game of Monkey mech.

Six years later, Red Son wakes up with a grey, stylized Monkey face on his palm, and a small dragon wrapped around his left wrist. He despises them both; he begins wearing finger-less gloves, if only so that he doesn’t have to see the grinning face of the Demon who sealed his father away staring up at him every day. Besides, he doesn’t need other soul mates: Once his father is free, Red Son’s family will be whole again, and they will rule the world with an iron fist (Note that at this point, Red is in complete denial that DBK and Iron fan could be his enemies: the fact that their marks showed up on his back indicates that they will become his worst enemies, so Red has spent his entire life trying desperately to ensure that doesn’t happen.). (He still fails in the end)

Mei and Mk both wake up that same morning with a new soulmark: A small, stylized flame that appears on Mk’s palm and on Mei’s wrist. They both gush to each other about it over a bowl of noodles, Mei is excited to get a new bestie while Mk is freaking out over the fact that he may have a boyfriend/girlfriend in a years time (Note: I 100% headcanon Mk as both gay and trans: but I like to think he struggled a bit more with his sexuality. At this point, Mk is still questioning it a bit, but by the time the events of episode one roll around, he’s pretty sure of his identity. Mei is ace, Red Son is Bi, Pigsy is Pan, and Mr. Tang is gay.). Mk also gains a small peach on his right wrist, and he and Mei speculate as to why only Mk got a second mark (Way up on Flower Fruit Mountain, Sun Wukong gains a new soul mark for the first time in 400 years. This prompts him to begin looking into possibly getting a successor).

Mei, Mk, Pigsy, and Mr. Tang also get two marks on their backs: a demon head and an iron fan. Mk and Mr. Tang, upon seeing what exactly the marks are, absolutely freak out. They both firmly believe that the marks represent DBK and Princess Iron fan, and the implication that two very powerful demons might be going after them in a year’s time is more than enough to scare the two. Pigsy and Mei are a bit more skeptical, citing that DBK and Iron fan are just myths, and even if they weren’t, DBK would still be trapped under the mountain by the Monkey King’s staff. 

This only freaks the other two out more, as that carries the implication that DBK will be free to wreak havoc on the world in a year’s time. So, MK and Mr. Tang begin to delve even deeper into the lore surrounding DBK and Sun Wukong, desperately trying to prepare just in case (Sun Wukong actually happens to overhear one of these study sessions while he’s out searching for a successor, and is impressed by Mk’s knowledge of him. He decides to keep an eye on the kid, and eventually makes the choice to make him his successor.).

As the year progresses, MK gets three new enemy marks:a dark grey spider on his shoulder (It scares the hell out of MK the first time he sees it, and he smacks it multiple times before realizing that it’s not an actual spider. He then proceeds to panic even more when he realizes it’s a soulmark.), a more menacing version of Mk’s own soul mark that appears on his lower back (three guesses as to who that one belongs to), and finally, a pale grey skull right in the middle of Mk’s shoulder blades, larger than any other soulmark so far. With each new enemy mark, Mk becomes more and more nervous: Just what will happen to give him so many enemies?

Meanwhile, Red Son gains only one new mark: the same pale grey skull, right in between the fan and the bull head. This one worries Red Son the most: while he has never actually seen the white bone spirit, he’s heard several disturbing horror stories over the years, and the idea of becoming allies or gods forbid, enemies with the cruel creature makes the fire demon nervous. 

Then, we get to the pilot. Red frees his father, MK gets the staff, and the chase across the city ensues. Red returns to the lair empty handed and bruised. He heads to his room to patch up, when he notices a small flare of bright, emerald green on his wrist. Pulling off the finger-less gloves, Red Son sees that the dragon is now a bright, glowing green. The mark on his palm has also taken on a color, bright reds mixing with vibrant golds as the colored monkey mark on his palm smiles up at him. 

That’s when it clicks: The only two people he’d encountered today, aside from his mother and father, are the Noodle Boy and the mysterious person on the bike. 

Red Son furiously vows that he will never, ever side with the Noodle boy, even if it kills him, and he will remain steadfastly loyal to his mother and father (From then on, he takes extra care to hide his palms and wrists from his parents, out of the intense fear that they will cast him out if they learn of who exactly the marks represent.) (it doesn’t work).

Meanwhile, Mk is freaking the fuck out. He can wield the Monkey King’s staff, he just saw one of the most powerful demons get freed from a 300+ year prison, confirming his theory that DBK and Iron fan are the two marks on his shoulder blades (Both of which, Mk notes, gained color that day, further confirming that they relate to DBK and Iron fan.), he got chased all over town by Red Son (who Mk recognizes from the myths), and to top it all off, the flame mark on his palm turned a bright, royal blue sometime between him leaving to deliver noodles, and him getting back to the shop, and the only other person that Mk encountered during that time that even remotely fits the mark is, you guessed it, Red Son. 

Mk relays all of this to the gang, at which point Mei notices that the flame on her wrist has also turned bright blue, providing even further confirmation. Mk is very much bummed out by this, because out of all the people that could’ve been the fire on his palm, of course it had to be the demon who attempted to kill him.

Still, Mk pushes that to the side in favor of focusing on finding the Monkey King. 

The pilot continues much in the same way as in canon, with one notable exception: When Iron Fan shows up on the gang’s way to Flower Fruit mountain, she sees the small blue flame on MK’s palm. Putting two and two together, she realizes that her son is soulbound to MK, and that this bond may eventually cause Red to turn on his parents, which is why Iron Fan and DBK begin to push him away in later episodes. 

After that, things resume canon again: MK survives and gets to Flower Fruit Mountain, Wukong tells him that he chose Mk to be his successor (Which is when the peach mark on MK wrist gains color, and Mk proceeds to lose his entire shit over the fact that holy fuck, he’s soul bonded to Sun freaking Wukong. Wukong finds this both utterly hilarious and a little bit adorable.), the big fight between DBK and Mk happens, yada yada yada. The day is saved, and Mk goes home with his newfound powers.

Episode one is where we begin to see more long-term changes. By this point, both DBK and Iron fan know that their son is bound to the little thief, most likely romantically, and that their own blue flame mark is located on their backs, implying that Red Son will most likely turn against them in the near future. So, they start to distance themselves from him. 

They send Red to take control of the weather station and defeat MK, something that both of them know will end in failure. Red Son is oblivious to this (not really) and gladly takes on the task, desperate to prove himself. And t first, it seems that Red is actually successful!

...Before Mk comes back with a new grip on his powers and absolutely destroys Red Son. 

Red Son goes back to the lair, sparks still flying off of him, and on his way to his room, he overhears quiet conversation between his parents.

Curious, he quietly listens in, and finds out that not only do his parents know about the mark on his palm (How??? How did they find out???), but they are also planning on a way to get him “out of the picture”. 

Red Son absolutely panics at this revelation, and begins to spiral into waves of self-loathing and intense anxiety. Now he is desperate to remain on his parent’s good side by any means necessary, and so he buries himself in plans and research on powerful artifacts that he can steal for his father. 

While that’s going on, Mk meets the spider queen (The Spider on his shoulder becomes purple and green, and Mk spends three hours scrubbing at it in the shower that night), the whole clone thing happens, Mei gets her sword, and the calabash incident goes down (the main difference here is that when Mk hears that Red Son was also sealed away with his parents, Mk feels inexplicably upset about it: as much as he dislikes the fire demon, there’s still a small part of him that desperately wants them to be friends.). At this point, both Mk and Mei have kinda just accepted that the blue flame mark exists, and they don’t pay it too much attention, even if Mk kinda wants to know more about the hotheaded fire demon.

Then the race rolls around. At this point, Red is a nervous, paranoid wreck, his self esteem (which really wasn’t all that great to begin with) is deteriorating at a frightening speed, and he is desperate for a chance to prove to his parents that he is loyal, that he’s not worthless. 

So when he hears that the winner of this year’s great wall race will receive a peach of immortality, he rushes to apply for it. He excitedly tells Iron Fan, fervently hoping that she’ll at least listen to him, only to be crushed when she dismisses him out of hand, saying that even if the peaches could do  anything for them, it wouldn’t change all of Red Son’s failures in the past. Red Son, disheartened, still joins the race, and is absolutely furious when he sees that both Mk and Mei (When Red found out that she’s a descendant of one of the great dragons, he started calling her “Horse Girl” under the assumption that the dragon she is descended from was the dragon horse from Journey to the West) also entered. He starts arguing and bantering with them, and for just a moment, Red feels... content. Not happy, per se, but the constant anxiety and paranoia begins to lessen for a moment.

Then DBK and Iron fan show up, and Red Son goes silent. His back goes rigid, and his eyes glaze over a bit. Mei and Mk both take notice of the Fire demon’s sudden change in demeanor, and even though they still both think he’s a bit of a prick, they can’t help but be a bit concerned. 

Mk is actually about to say something to Red when Jin and Yin hijack the commentator’s box, and the race starts. 

The race goes mostly the same as in canon, with the main exeptions being that Red is far quieter and more focused, and Iron Fan’s taunts are much crueller and more demeaning.

Mei and Mk win, with Red Son getting second place. Instead of attempting to steal the peach trophy, Red Son just... watches them, looking almost broken as he watches the two celebrate. Mk, noticing the strange behavior, reaches out to ask if Red is ok (The reaction the fire demon had to his parents showing up set off all sorts of alarms in Mk’s head, because that had been exactly how he reacted back when he still lived with his parents.), only to be interrupted by DBK’s reemergence from the mountain. 

Iron fan tells Red Son that they are leaving, and Mk immediately picks up on what’s going on. He calls out to Red  just before Iron Fan’s winds whisk him away, and terrified look that the fire demon sends him confirms Mk’s suspicions.

That night, Mk comes up with a plan: He’s gonna get Red Son away from his parents, or die trying. The only other person who knows at first, is Mei: She also has Red Son’s soul mark, and while she’s not as keen on the fire demon as Mk is, she still doesn’t want him to have to deal with abusive parents.

While Mk is doing that, DBK and Iron Fan have fully leaned into the enemy role, disowning Red Son and keeping him locked away in the lair. Red just breaks down at this, and begins refusing to eat or move. All that time that he’d spent, desperately trying to maintain some sort of good relationship with his parents, for nothing. The only people that he could count on turned against him, and that loneliness hits him like a freight train. 

The only thing that brings him comfort, oddly enough, are the soul marks on his left palm and wrist: he takes to rubbing them whenever he feels particularly bad. By now, his feelings toward Mk and Mei are much closer to something positive: they both seemed concerned about him after the race, and where that might’ve pissed him off a few months earlier, now it comforts him with the knowledge that at least someone out there gives a damn. 

We get to episode 8, when Mk gets the skeleton key. Instead of Red Son being the one to steal the key, Iron fan is the one to do it, and she reveals her master plan:

She and DBK plan on releasing the White Bone Spirit from it’s prison, in order for it to possess Red Son so that both will be fully under their control.

Iron Fan gets away with the key, the White Bone Spirit possesses Red Son, and DBK and Iron Fan use him to wreck the entire city.

Mei and Mk do their best to avoid fighting Red Son: it feels so wrong every time they do clash, because they both know it’s not Red Son, they know he’s not the one in control, but it still hurts that they couldn’t get him out in time, that one of their soulmates is suffering like this. 

The final straw comes a week after the initial possession.

Mk is forced to fight a possessed Red son to protect a badly injured Pigsy. Mk begs for Red to fight back, to break free, knowing that the continued possession is taking a toll on the demon’s body. Mei joins him, insisting that Red is stronger than this, that he needs to think about the people that care about him. 

That is enough to allow Red to break through, just for a moment.

He steps back, tears streaming from his eyes as he brokenly whispers that if even his own parents can’t be bothered to care about someone as weak, as broken as he is, then who the hell would? Mei and Mk hate him, his parents disowned him, and it’s not like he really interacts with anyone else.

He is immediately taken by surprise when the two teens blurt out that even though they might’ve started out on opposite sides, that they never fully hated him. Mk in particular says that they were actually worried about Red Son after the race, that they were planning on getting him out before Iron fan stole the skeleton key, that they were still planning on helping him escape, that they really, actually care.

Red Son finally breaks free, and Mk seals the White Bone spirit away again. Mei and Mk beat the absolute crap out of DBK and Iron Fan, who end up escaping  again.

They take Red to one of the few remaining hospitals, so he can recover from his possession, and they make sure to get him some serious therapy while they’re at it. 

Red Son wakes up two days later to see Mei and Mk sitting by his hospital bed on either side of him, and they give him a warm smile when they see that he’s awake.

He cries for a bit as he realizes that it’s over. He’s free now, even if he doesn’t have anywhere to go anymore, and there are two people in the world who keep that blue flame close to their chest instead of turning their backs.

For the first time in over a year, Red doesn’t hide the marks on his wrist and palms.

After all, why should he from the ones who care for him the most?

[anexplanationofunfortunateevents]

if the GOP could win for real, they would do a lot less cheating

Something you have to understand about recent American history is that the Republican party lost its shit in the 1960s. There are always plenty of reasons for decades-long historical trends, but arguably the core one is that Lyndon Johnson’s administration made a bunch of human rights advances known collectively as the Great Society, the cornerstone of which was a sincere and substantive effort to address the unfinished business of Reconstruction with the Civil Rights Act and the Voting Rights Act.

Racist white people who didn’t want to share democracy with everyone else became reliable Republican voters, but they’re nowhere near enough to win an election on their own. Republicans realized that their ideology is a miserable death cult that can’t win a fair fight. They could have gotten better ideas, but instead, they started sabotaging democracy.

I am not here to overwhelm you with a list of all the American right wing’s assaults on democracy. But there is a relatively narrow subset which forms a pattern that has become increasingly urgent: times Republicans have abused, usurped, or radically and unilaterally bastardized the power of American government in order to limit voters’ ability to hold them accountable in free and fair elections.

Because it only includes events backed up by reliable and freely available sources, it necessarily only includes the times times they were ham-fisted or sloppy enough to get caught. It has over two dozen entries and is almost certainly incomplete.

1968: Richard Nixon sabotages peace talks to end the Vietnam War because anger over the war is a winning campaign issue for him. Johnson catches him and calls him out, but doesn’t tell the public. Nixon wins and takes office.

1972: Nixon’s re-election campaign, the Committee to Re-Elect the President (or CREEP, because these people are fucking Bond villains) goes on a crime spree which includes multiple break-ins at Democratic National Committee headquarters in the Watergate Hotel.

1992: President George H.W. Bush asks British Prime Minister John Major’s government to dig through official archives for anything compromising on his rival Governor Bill Clinton from Clinton’s time at Oxford University.

1992: A political appointee at the Bush State Department has Governor Clinton’s passport files searched for potentially embarrassing information.

1992: Bush’s Attorney General William Barr pressures federal prosecutors in Arkansas to make some public movement on a white collar crime case tangentially associated with Governor Clinton.

2000: The Florida state board of elections does a racist voter purge, targeting largely Democratic communities of color.

2000: A mob, mostly Republican congressional aides, force election officials in Palm Beach County to shut down its recount.

2000: Five Supreme Court justices appointed by Republican presidents shut down the Florida recount in an unsigned opinion so specious and nakedly partisan that it irreparably damages the legitimacy of not only the Bush presidency but the Supreme Court itself.

2004: Republican election administrators in Florida attempt another racist voter purge, only abandoning it when they get caught.

2006: The Bush administration leans on federal prosecutors to influence the midterm elections with bogus investigations into Democratic politicians and prosecutions of non-existent “voter fraud” cases. After Republicans lose the midterms, several attorneys who resisted the pressure are fired.

2010: Five Supreme Court justices appointed by Republicans, in an existential fiat, reclassify money as speech, opening the floodgates to swamp every level of politics with dark money.

2013: The same five Republican Supreme Court justices gut the Voting Rights Act, specifically and explicitly because it has been relatively effective in preventing racist voter suppression.

2010s: Republicans in various state legislatures pass a bunch of laws to suppress the ability of voters to hold them accountable.

2016: Associates of Trump consigliere Rudy Giuliani loudly and unprofessionally conduct numerous bullshit investigations into Democratic presidential nominee Hillary Clinton. They successfully pressure FBI director James Comey – himself a veteran of the corrupt and politicized Bush Justice Department – into several improper and decisive actions against Clinton.

2016: Donald Trump conspires with Russian intelligence and business interests to sabotage his opponent in a presidential election.

2016: Republican Senate majority leader Mitch McConnell blackmails the Obama administration out of explaining the Russian government’s sabotage of the presidential election, leaving state boards of elections and the general public vulnerable to the assault.

2017-18: The Republican administration sits on evidence that Russian military hackers have penetrated state voting equipment.

2018: Republican Georgia secretary of state Brian Kemp insists on overseeing the election in which he is running for governor. He squeaks out a “win” after purging thousands of voters, arbitrarily closing or refusing to equip polling places, and baselessly accusing his Democratic opponent of trying to hack the election.

2018: A Republican congressional campaign in North Carolina hires operatives to defraud local senior citizens who were attempting to cast absentee ballots.

2018: Republicans lose the governorships in Wisconsin and Michigan, but keep control of the state legislatures due to gross gerrymandering. Before the new governors can be sworn in, they cram through laws stripping power from the incoming Democratic governors.

2019: Trump administration officials try to warp the data which will be collected in the 2020 census in a way that will enable future gerrymandering by undercounting largely Democratic constituencies. When they get caught and stopped, they try to justify themselves by lying to the federal courts.

2019: Donald Trump privately tries to extort the president of Ukraine into announcing bullshit investigations into prominent Democrats during the 2020 election.

2019: Donald Trump publicly pressures the government of China into opening bullshit investigations into prominent Democrats during the 2020 election.

2019: All but one House Republican opposes impeaching Trump for his extortion of Ukraine – until that one guy is pushed out of the party. Therefore, no House Republicans vote to impeach Trump.

2020: With one exception, every Republican in the Senate validates Trump’s attempts to rig the 2020 election by voting to acquit him.

2020: Republicans dig in their heels and refuse to take easy and obvious steps to keep voters safe from COVID-19 at the polls.

This is just the list of things that I could remember off the top of my head and could find receipts for with relative ease. It doesn’t include things that are plausible but unproven, like the allegations that Reagan’s 1980 campaign staff tried to repeat Nixon’s first stunt by working to prolong the Iran hostage crisis because it was a winning campaign issue for him. It doesn’t include dirty, bigoted campaigns that you might call awful but lawful, like the racist “Willie Horton” ad campaign in 1988 or the repulsive homophobic ballot initiatives that were engineered to bolster George W. Bush’s 2004 reelection campaign. It doesn’t include the wide array of brutalizations of a constitutional small-d democratic system which aren’t specifically and concretely about elections – everything from eroding the credibility of scientists, experts, and reporters to packing the courts with proto-fascist hacks to lying the American people into war in Iraq.

It really doesn’t matter whether or not I think Republicans win elections legitimately. It’s extremely important that Republicans do not believe they can win elections legitimately.

Now think for a second about their cherished “voter fraud” trope. All this time, Republicans have been screeching that SOMEONE was out there trying to steal elections FROM THEM. It is absolutely correct to focus on and be upset about the racist history and intent of this particular conspiracy theory. I would simply argue that white supremacism is not the only unforgivable aspect of this nonsense trope. The other is the way those claims make it impossible to deal with actual threats against legitimate elections.

This is similar to what psychologists call projection, or the tactic domestic violence experts refer to as DARVO. It is not unrelated to “swiftboating” or the phenomenon students of genocide refer to as the “accusation in a mirror.” It is the axiom small children cite when they say “he who smelt it, dealt it.”

I don’t know the ONE WEIRD TRICK to make it not work. I just know that it – maddeningly – does work, not least on the Very Serious Experts whose ONE FUCKING JOB it is to know better.

So I’m sorry to disappoint if you were expecting a “many bad people on all sides” disclaimer about who does political dirty tricks, but “both sides” is not operative, no matter how desperate the hot-take-industrial-complex is to make fetch happen. It hasn’t been operative for twenty-five years, and it’s really not operative for the next six months. You can bury yourself deep in literature about asymmetric polarization, but you don’t have to do all that to understand what’s important here. Democrats support democracy and want to stop the plague, Republicans support the plague and want to stop democracy, and you should be extremely skeptical of anyone who claims not to know the difference.

[palettepainter]

for the headcanon meme - 7, 10, 13, and 17 for any (or all) of the Power Loader family pls!

Since it’s the PL family I’ll also be including PL himself 

7, their tickle spots-

Powerloader/Higari - his neck and ears, since they’re mostly covered all the time by his hair and helmet when he’s working they’ve grown to be sensitive. The only people that really know of his ticklish spots besides his family are Ectoplasm and MT Lady (I saw some art of MT Lady and PL being best friends and honestly I dig their dynamic, so yeh, they best friends in my NGAU) - both Ectoplasm and MT Lady are respectful don’t exploit Powerloader’s ticklish spots....in public-

Hono - HA good luck trying to escape him if you’re bold enough to try and tickle him. Hono is actually pretty easy to sneak up on if you’re extra cautious, since he partially deaf in one ear he’s super vigilant nearly all the time so his guard is often up. Hono himself isn’t actually ticklish anymore, used to be when he was a kid, depending on who tries to tickle him he’ll either just stare with a ‘the fuck?’ look or chase them away angrily 

Taiho - His skin is pretty tough due to his quirk cannonball, so the only places he’s really ticklish are behind his ears or under his arms, try to tickle him anywhere else and he’ll sorta tense up for a moment before relaxing

Chikara - She says she’s not ticklisj, but she’s wrong. Very very wrong. It’s open game when it comes to tickling her, she’s ticklish pretty much everywhere. When she senses a tickle attack she gives a warning scowl and then flees 

Suru - Like Powerloader her ears and neck are sensitive, hence when she often wears a jumper over her work overalls and has her hair down to cover it, she’s smart like that but Hono always seems to catch her off guard when she thinks she’s safe.

10, Fears/Phobias 

Powerloader/Higari - Honestly not sure what he’d be afraid off but first thing that came to mind was seeing others he cares for get hurt. Powerloader is a rugged man, often giving close friends playful shoulder punches and playful teasing as his signs of affection, but I imagine if anything seriously bad happened to anyone he was close to (say like they ended up in hospital or something) he’d be devastated. I feel like a small part of him would feel especially protective of Ectoplasm and Haiya, he KNOWS they can care for themselves and the two are far from defenseless (Ectoplasm more then Haiya), but after being with Ectoplasm when he lost his legs and all through his recovery, I imagine he’s quite anxious about keeping loved ones safe. He doesn’t really talk about it since he thinks it’s a silly worry, but he can’t help it sometimes

Hono - Surprisingly he’s got quite a few fears despite the tough act he puts up. Ever since the explosion incident that caused his scar he can get startled at loud noises. When using his quirk he can at least prepare himself for the loud noise, if he doesn’t know when a loud noise is coming he can jump up and throw his arms up defensively. He’s also really scared of loosing anymore family, hence why he was quite blunt and rude when he first met Ectoplasm. Desite the act Hono does deeply miss his big brother Higari, but he’d never admit it. He totally didn’t nearly cry when he saw Powerloader on the news one time during a rescue mission in the city saying he’d been severely injured 

Taiho - Haircuts. He and Higari hate hate HATE going to the hairdressers. They have to get a lot of persuasion just to go for a light trim. Taiho hates hairdressers due to an incident that happened when he was six, he was in his fathers garage and had accidentally lent on some machinery that caused a part of his hair to fry off, so his parents took him to have his hair cut so that it wouldn’t be as obvious, but the whole experience was scarring for him. Anyone comes near him with hair scissors he’s backing up against a wall-

Chikara - She’s actually really scared of water. As a kid she used to go swimming in a spring with her parents, but the idea of swimming in the ocean, where there are predators bigger then there house?? No no no. No thanks. She’ll pass. If they ever go to a beach she’s usually sitting up on the sand or lightly paddling by the edge of the water - probably wouldn’t set foot on a beach for months if she saw Jaws or Sharknado 

Suru - To her siblings shock she has no fears, nothing seems to phase her, which everyone kinda finds funny in a way as she’s the youngest

13, What gets them flustered

Powerloader/Higari - I don’t imagine it’s easy to him flustered, unless you’re Ectoplasm of course. Powerloader is a rugged flirt and has zero shame, no problem getting his boyfriend all flustered, he’s a sneaky weasel. Ectoplasm flirts are usually very dorky, sweet and innocent, purely wholesome domestic stuff and it does make Powerloader a little giddy. However when Ectoplasm is the one giving out rugged flirts and shamelessly whispering stuff to Higari when he’ trying to work Powerloader is RED. Of course if he ever tells anyone this Ectoplasm acts as though he has no idea what Powerloader is on about, and everyone thinks Powerloader is just overreacting. A wink and a rare smirk from Ecto and Powerloader is going to be struggling to keep his focus on work.

Hono - Cliche to his grumpy character, but super sweet and domestic stuff with him makes his heart sour. Someone running their hands through his hair is one way to get him all grumpy and red, and it also luls him to sleep. Petnames also throw his off guard because he’s never had anyone outside of family call him by them. He gets angry flustered, shocker, so he often barks something rude when embarrassed and storms off with his hands in his pockets 

Taiho - Taiho does all the paperwork and stuff for the home with the business and that can get him pretty worn out, honestly a good hug and a kiss is enough to have him smiling till the end of the day. He’s a cuddly guy so he’s all for physical affection!

Chikara - Chikara herself is a pretty smug flirty bird, she’s got no issue flirting with people she likes (probably jokingly hit on Ectoplasm the first time they met to get on Powerloaders nerves, which worked. Powerloader was glued to Ecto for the rest of the visit-). If someone flirts back with her it’s rare she’ll get flustered by it. If someone is genuinely complimenting her with nothing but pure honesty, that gets her all starry eyed. Soft intimate moments is what she loves, she finds hand holding in particular very sweet 

Suru - Suru on the whole is pretty oblivious about love and such since she’s only really been focused on helping out with the family business, shes very passionate about inventing though so finding someone with the same love for creating as her gets her happy flustered

17, Regrets 

Powerloader/Higari - Again not really sure what regrets he’d have since he seems like the type of person to not open up easily, even with family and close friends. Perhaps he could feel some sort of guilt towards Ectoplasm’s injured legs? Thinking maybe if he had been there with him that day Ectoplasm wouldn’t have had to go through so much. And writting to his family, one of the factors with Powerloader and his families story is that Powerloader couldn’t write as often as he would have liked. Life in the city was busy, and it got busier when he helped Ectoplasm through his recovery, when he started teaching at UA and modifying hero suits, and more so when Haiya came into the picture. Now days he’s much better at keeping to a writing schedule, he sends a letter home to his family twice every month.

Hono - Regrets?? Hono? HA! He has none, duh, he’s got nothin’ to be regretful for. So what if he feels bad for the way he’s treated Powerloader?? So what if he feels so angry with himself because he doesn’t know how to say sorry?? So what if he feels like an idiot for ruining the families bond with him?? So what if he feels bad he didn’t tell Higari he loved him enough?? So what if he feels guilt for all the trouble he caused their family back when he was younger?? No regrets here. Nope.

Taiho/Chikara - they both share the same regret in letting Hono get to how he is today. They feel as though if they had spoken up in the past or had tried harder to get him and Higari to make up things between them wouldn’t be so tense.

Suru - She feels bad she couldn’t help out a lot back when things took a turn for the worst with their family. She wasn’t even born when their father passed away, and so tries to make up for that by dedicating her life to inventing/engineering in hopes she can help the family make money 

[halfwayinlight]

More fic for @cleverdistraction

Title: Copilots Rating: PG Fandom: Star Trek TNG Pairing: Will Riker/Deanna Troi

Set about four years before my Deep Waters fic series.

The last month or so has been intense. Will knows he’s driving his wife up the bulkheads and back down again, asking far too many times how she’s feeling. She (and the medical staff) have been understanding. It’s not like he’s been a father before. The last two weeks in particular, three if he’s honest, have felt like having a time bomb on board. Knowing his wife was due to go into labor at any given moment.

She’s handled this whole pregnancy so well. Deanna has always been resilient, and this was no exception. The first months and these last weeks, she has been tired more easily. And he knows she’s uncomfortable these days. Moreso as she entered into week forty-one of pregnancy and struggled to get more than four or five hours of sleep at a stretch at best. And he’s at least half responsible for it.

Nothing that anyone told either of them had prepared them for labor. Ian’s birth felt even more anomalous when she rolled into hour ten and then fourteen and past twenty hours of labor. As much as Ian was in a hurry to get here, their son was taking his own sweet time. Dr. Ree had urged them, several times, to let him intervene and go ahead and deliver through other options.

And of course, his wife is determined to do this the way women on Betazed have done it for generations. That she can do this. And even if she’s exhausted and crying every five or six hours, she’s not giving on this.

He knows that she has to be aware that he pulled aside Ree at hour eleven and asked at what point this was going to be harmful for her or the baby. Because as much as he wants to let her do what she wants because this is, honestly, all her and he’s not even the side show here… Well, there’s a point where he will step in because he’s always been the person to make sure she doesn’t push herself too far in spite of herself. Even if this child of theirs is plenty big enough but wanting to take his own sweet time in arriving.

Beverly was still on her way. As much as they fully trusted Ree to handle this, and they had full confidence, Beverly had insisted she was coming, too. They’d simply been through too much and were their own sort of family. She’d planned to arrive earlier in the week, but she’d been delayed. And their son was taking his time anyway. And now her shuttle was having to re-route thanks to a collapsing star. And Will was feeling every hour of his own sleep deprivation.

Deanna had sent him to sleep a few times. And he caved into it, feeling a little like a traitor that he could nap when she only managed short rests between contractions. By hour twenty, he was exhausted enough to fall asleep in ten minute bursts here or there, but afraid to nap even a room away because surely it wouldn’t be long now. She’d argued that they didn’t both need to be wiped out, but even at that, she still woke him several times from naps because of their bond and the intensity of becoming parents.

They tried every trick in the book, and most from almost every other world that anyone wanted to share with them. She had been curious about water births, but the delivery area simply wasn’t set up for it. And Will didn’t like that the bathtub in their own quarters was further away from sickbay if more care was needed. She’d tried every position she could manage.  Kneeling helped for a while. And for some time, it helped her to be on her hands and knees. But even that was hard to hold comfortably as the hours dragged out.

Until she was fully effaced, they took walks when she could handle it. Walk was a distortion, though. It had been a shuffle, stopping every few hundred feet for a while and later every forty feet or so when Deanna braced her hand against a bulkhead and breathed deeply to ride out a contraction. At one point he was sure that he was going to have to scoop her up and carry her back in when the strongest contraction yet hit so hard that her legs were trembling with the intensity and fatigue. Her dark eyes were wide, and she’d struggled to even send him a clear thought for long moments. In the end, he’d helped her to a bench and was debating calling for assistance when she pushed herself up and started to shuffle back to delivery.

At least ten calls from Beverly and thirty two hours later… and his son was screaming, and his wife was crying and grinning and sinking fully into the birthing chair. Somewhere in the last minutes, a chair for him had appeared and one of the staff had firmly pressed his shoulder to urge him to sit. Scooting closer, his fingers cupped the top of his son’s head as they handed him to Deanna. He marveled over the bald little head and red face. Their boy looked like a miracle.

Her fingers brush his cheek, and it’s only then that he realizes that he’s crying, too.  “Damn, he’s amazing. And you’re incredible,” Will breathed, leaning in a little closer to take in the wrinkled brow that’s slowly smoothing itself, the tiny slope of a nose, and pursed lips. The doctor and nurses are commenting on his solid size, but he still looks so small to Will. A whole person in tiny miniature. And half of him and half of Deanna, and his brain can’t wrap around it right now.

They keep Deanna and Thaddeus in delivery for another day. Moreso to let her sleep a little before sending them back to their quarters after a day and a quarter of delivery with a newborn. And a nurse is on call if they need any help or simply to sleep for a few hours until Beverly can get here. Beverly is practically turning herself (and no doubt the pilot of the shuttle) inside out trying to get there faster.

But now Alyssa Ogawa is handing him Thad, and Will feels everything in himself go stock still.

“Will?” Deanna knows something is off before he can even say the words.

“Captain?” Alyssa asks, her hand wrapping around his arm and guiding him, as he cradles the bundle of blanket and Thad against his chest, to the bio bed where Deanna is already sitting with her legs over the edge.

Deanna’s arm drapes around his shoulders. “Give us a few minutes?”

She’s not exactly happy about it, but Alyssa nods and slips out, closing the door behind her for privacy.

“Will?” comes the soft repeat of his name.

“She handed him to me, and what? We … take him to our quarters? They hand out the baby and we walk out of here? Hell, I’m not even sure I’m supporting his neck correctly half the time, and what if I sneeze and drop him? He’s so damn tiny, and I know you don’t think so after what you went through, but where the hell is Beverly?”

Deanna’s flattens against his back and rubbing in firm circles. “Deep breaths, ok?”

He gulps in a breath, his hold comfortable around the snoozing infant in his arms, but everything else locked as though too much movement will make this moment shatter. By the fifth breath, his shoulder ease a little. “I’m supposed to be taking care of you, not the other way around,” he finally said on an exhale, face flushing.

She used her arm to guide him closer and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “Would it make you feel better if I took him for a moment?”

Will shrugged. “His whole life changed, and he’s just sleeping through it like it’s no big deal. He… he trusts us to do all of this, and I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You’ve had training,” Deanna reminded him with a fond smile. “It’s… well, a little like when you left Starfleet. You’d learned a lot of things, but hadn’t gotten any practical experience, yet. Like the first time you piloted a shuttle craft.”

He shook his head slightly. “That was different. I had a trainer for a co-pilot, and I was too young and cocky to know to be scared.”

“Well, Beverly is our trainer for a while. And we have the staff on hand if we need anything. And then we can be each other’s copilots.” Her fingers reached up and wrapped around his shoulder, digging into the knot there. “Half of this is scary because it’s new. And we don’t know what we’re doing, yet. He doesn’t trust us necessarily, he’s just too little to know we’re making it up as we go for a while.”

He sighed a little, relaxing a bit further but still keeping their son cradled against his chest. “And the other half?”

“Of what?” she asked with a small yawn.

“The other half of why it’s scary,” he prompted, wondering for the fifth time today if maybe they should stay in sickbay another day so she could catch up on more sleep. Even with the medical staff giving some bottle feedings, there were several interruptions to her sleep between nursing and a few routine checks.

She smiled a little and cupped his chin, drawing him in for a soft kiss. “Because we’re both very sleep deprived. I think Thad has the right idea with a nap.” Her eyes met his and softened. “And I’d really love to take a nap in our bed instead of a bio bed.”

Will took another slow breath and shifted Thad in his convenient swaddle against his heart, arms adjusting until he had him in a secure one-armed hold and hand cautiously around his son’s head. He glanced down to be sure of the distance and slowly slid off the bed. His hand extended to her.

Deanna lifted his fingers to her lips and tilted her head slightly with a grin. “We have a son.”

“Yeah,” he breathed, mirroring back the same smile. There would be more hovering later. Making sure she was as okay as Dr. Ree and Alyssa insisted she was. For now, Thad was sucking his thumb and perfectly content to be carried to any galaxy. Wrapping his free arm around his wife, he let Deanna set the pace through sickbay and toward the turbo lift and their quarters. “Copilots, huh?”

As the turbolift slid shut around their newly expanded family, Deanna gave his fingers a light squeeze. “Copilots.”

[ofelizabeth]

[ LUCY BOYNTON // CIS WOMAN // SHE/HER ] – oh my god, is that [ ELIZABETH WILSON ]?! the tabloids can’t seem to stop buzzing about the [ TWENTY-SIX ] year old [ PUBLICIST ]. the industry has dubbed [ her ] [ THE FALLEN ANGEL ] and sources say, [ she ] is [ + TENACIOUS ] and [ + AMBITIOUS ], yet also [ - APPREHENSIVE ] and [ - STUBBORN ]. yet, with all this gossip, who really knows?! one thing’s for sure, though– queen bee has it out for [ her ]! 

hello hello !!! i’m andi ( 23, pst, she/her ) and below the cut are more details on elizabeth. but give this a like and i’ll come to you for some plotting !

* / BASICS . 

full name: elizabeth jade wilson

nickname(s):  lizzie, ellie 

age: twenty-six

date of birth: january 8th

zodiac sign: capricorn

place  of  birth: newport beach, california

gender: cis woman

pronouns: she / her

sexual orientation:  heterosexual

language(s) spoken: english ( also learned a bit of french during a semester abroad in college )

accent: american

* / APPEARANCE . 

face claim: lucy boynton

hair color: blonde

eye color: green

height: 5′5″

tattoos: n/a

piercings:  one on each earlobe – usually gravitates towards small gold hoops or dainty earrings.

* / FAMILY . 

parents: jennifer & david wilson – have been married for 30 years.

sibling(s):  two older brothers ( daniel & michael ) , one younger sister ( olivia )

children: none, and is unsure if she’d even want kids in the future.

* / CAREER . 

occupation: publicist

experience: roughly five years into her career 

body of work: had supporting roles in a handful of small budget films from the time she was seventeen until twenty-one, some of which ended up getting a good amount of recognition. she then transitioned into talent representation instead and currently has a roster of ten clients.

clients: tbd

* / BIOGRAPHY . 

as the first daughter to jennifer and david wilson, elizabeth was spoiled from the very beginning. her family was close and the type to host large thanksgiving gatherings every year, with multiple sets of cousin traveling into newport for a holiday that she personally didn’t find too substantial. regardless, she was grateful for the bond those gatherings created, and to this day keeps in touch with most of her extended family.

during one of the many gatherings, her aunt – a casting director in the industry – planted the idea of acting in her head. she had ‘the look,’ and apparently that was all anyone cared for. not knowing how to say no, her mother signed them up for several commercial casting calls, figuring that, if anything, it would act as an extracurricular activity to include in future college applications.

from a young age, elizabeth had always been tenacious. her parents raised her to stand her ground, so that was exactly what she did. going after what she wanted came naturally, but sometimes it resulted in coming across rather blunt and stubborn – two qualities that weren’t exactly helpful during the beginning of her early acting career.

it took a couple auditions, but with some connections from her aunt, she eventually landed a commercial for a cereal brand at the age of thirteen. after that, they continued coming in, with elizabeth completing around five commercials a year throughout her teenage years.

when it came time to graduate and apply for college, she didn’t know what to do. acting was suddenly a career option that made decent money, but part of her was unsure of the decision. instead, she decided to attend the university of southern california and major in communications. if anything were to go wrong down the line, at least she had something to fall back on.

throughout college, elizabeth continued going to auditions and was lucky enough to land several supporting roles for small budget films. they weren’t the most talked about films of the year, but some did get a decent amount of recognition.

breaks from college were common as her shooting schedule demanded more attention, and suddenly more of her time was being asked to complete press tied to the releases. with only one year left of college, dropping out didn’t seem like an option. instead, she cut down on her acting demands and focused on completing her degree. with each class attended, the more she fell in love with the communications field. she was already familiar with dealing with press from several junkets they had done for films, but the more she studied, the more she seriously considered a career in publicity.

so, after graduating from usc, that’s exactly what she did. putting acting on the back-burner for the time being, elizabeth landed a job with a prominent personal pr agency that represented some of the biggest names in hollywood. five years into her career, she now has a roster of ten clients and it continues to grow on a yearly basis.

* / WANTED CONNECTIONS . 

more than just a client ( 0 / 1 ) drama and gossip ! a client of hers that she has a secret ‘friends with benefits’ style relationship with. 

old friends ( 0 / 3 ) people she might have met on the set of commercials or movies she worked on. they probably became close during production and still keep in touch. could also have met at usc ? 

best friend ( 0 / 1 ) she basically tells this person everything. 

exes ( 0 / 2 ) could’ve been either a serious relationship that lasted for months / years, or a quick one that only made it a month or two. happy to go over how it ended / details with you ! 

enemies ( 0 / 1 ) i’m a sucker for drama and angst, so yes please. happy to plot out details with you !

honestly anything and everything ! if something on this list doesn’t catch your eye, i’m more than happy to brainstorm something else.

[yumeka36]

Well, I know I said a while back when more Frozen 2 leaks came out that I was gonna avoid making anymore posts expressing my thoughts until I actually see the movie myself...but alas, what I’d consider the jackpot of leaks came out yesterday causing me to develop more thoughts I feel are better expressed now than later. As usual, skip this post if you don’t want to be supremely spoiled...

After the initial leaks from the not-yet-released mythology book a few weeks ago, which confirmed the movie will end with Anna as queen of Arendelle and Elsa as the Snow Queen/fifth spirit, the real question we’ve had since then is: will they continue to live together or separately? Many official sources such as storybooks and interviews with the creators hinted at separation, and after nearly two weeks of letting the realization that this movie won’t end in the way I would have liked practically eat me alive, I decided it was best to just remain positive, as the events of the story’s third act are still mostly a mystery.

Before I continue, I just want to point out that I understand both sides of the fandom right now: the side that feels hurt and betrayed by this kind of ending, and the side that’s more accepting and doesn’t want to jump to conclusions without seeing it firsthand. It’s been tough for me being in the middle - at times I totally get the backlash. We fell in love with the story of the first movie and shorts about two sisters reconnecting and now the sequel ends with them finding happiness elsewhere. But at the same time, I know that living separately doesn’t diminish familial bonds and it’s a normal thing that happens. I know it’s easy to dismiss it as a trend since a lot of other recent family movie sequels had similar endings, but I want to judge it in its own right. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still not happy we’re getting a separation ending, but I also know I’ll love 95% of this movie, so I can’t bring myself to throw in the towel at the last 5% without seeing every detail for myself, every word of dialogue, every scene, every nuance in character expressions and actions. I’d feel much more okay with this ending if this was Frozen 3 we’re talking about and we had another Frozen 2 that focused on Anna and Elsa reconnecting as sisters. To go from the end of the first Frozen with them finally getting to know each other after 13 years apart, straight to a sequel that ends with them separating is a leap that really needed more padding. The shorts fill the gap somewhat, but not enough in my opinion. We should have had a Frozen 2 story about Elsa trying to get over her guilt about shutting Anna out all those years, and once that’s resolved, it ends with a return to the status quo that sets the stage for the story we actually have in Frozen 2 (which should be Frozen 3!) I really feel we needed one more “smaller” story like this to pad things out after the first Frozen before the major changes that happens in Frozen 2 (can we get a Frozen 1.5 anyone?) But as I’ll describe further in this post, I’m not convinced that the last 5% of Frozen 2 will be so bad that it will override everything else about the movie, or Frozen in general.

I should also mention that I’ve always been neutral to Kristoff and his relationship with Anna. I find Anna and Elsa’s relationship way more appealing and interesting, but I’ve also always believed Anna has plenty of room in her big heart for sisterly love for Elsa and romantic love for Kristoff. Since they skipped any talk of marriage in the first Frozen, it was no surprise at all that it would be brought up in the sequel. Since they intend Frozen 2 to be the last installment (for now) they couldn’t leave a loose end like Kristoff and Anna’s engagement. I could take it or leave it, but as long as Anna and Elsa’s relationship is portrayed as the strongest bond (which it seems to be) I don’t mind giving Anna romantic love too (and maybe Elsa one day?)

But anyway, yes, a month before its official release, several page scans from the The Art of Frozen 2 have leaked, which pretty much confirm the ending alluded to in the mythology book and many others. And honestly, after taking some time to let all the information sink in, I’m not as upset as I thought I would be. At first I thought I was just numb by now, having already been sick about it for nearly two weeks after the mythology book leaked. But more likely, I think I’ve just made myself form a different perspective. In all the fandoms I partake in, I always try to make myself open to different interpretations of the characters and story even if they don’t fully agree with my own. I understand that there’s a risk involved with falling too deeply in love with someone else’s creation - that they may not interpret the characters and story the same way you do and it becomes difficult to distinguish your own headcanon perspective vs actual canon. What I think has happened with the Frozen fandom is an unfortunate case where lack of canon material has caused me (and no doubt others) to indulge so much in my own headcanons that I started to see it as “fact” when it really is just my interpretation and “filling in the blanks” so to speak.

To illustrate, Anna and Elsa spend very little time together in the first movie, which is what makes their rekindled love for each other at the end so impacting. But if you think about it, the ice skating together in the original Frozen’s epilogue plus a few more scenes in the two short films, only equates to about a half hour’s worth of content showing them interacting as sisters. When you have such an appealing character relationship but such a small amount of canon content with which to interpret it over a span of six years, it’s only natural that my own headcanons took over until I started seeing them as the only interpretation. Especially for Elsa, who has a lot less screentime in the first movie than Anna, so honestly we really don’t know her that well. Have I really seen enough of her in the first movie plus two shorts to say with certainty that she could never be happy without Anna always being by her side? Is the filmmakers’ view of her as a “protector” and “mythical character” who feels at home in the enchanted lands less valid than my own interpretation of her? Again, when I try to describe Elsa I realize that much of it is based on my own headcanons, which are perfectly valid, but I shouldn’t be surprised if it turns out the filmmakers have a different vision for her. Just because I personally love all the sisterly moments between Anna and Elsa and so always want that to exist in the Frozen universe so I can keep indulging in it, mean that any other direction for the story is bad? Of course anyone can infer basic things about Anna and Elsa without any headcanons, such as the fact that they love each other and enjoy being together, but when I ask myself questions like “What evidence do I really have that they’ll always want to live together?” or “Is Elsa really perfectly content being the queen of Arendelle as opposed to doing something else?” or “Does true love mean always having to physically be close to each other in order to be happy?” I realize that I can’t answer them as confidently as I’d like. 

As I asked myself questions like this and read the leaked art book pages a few times over - especially the foreward - I came to the conclusion that the creators did indeed put a lot of love and effort into their choices for Frozen 2, and their thought process for developing the story as described in the foreward makes sense even if it’s not the direction I personally would have gone. As I was reading it, I thought, if another fan like myself wrote it I would think “Hm, that’s an interesting interpretation, not quite how I see it, but valid nonetheless.” But in this case, the one with that interpretation is the creators, so all you can do is accept their view or move away. It’s not like they were way off and focused the sequel on a new character and pushed Anna and Elsa into the background, or even focused a lot on Anna and Kristoff: from everything I’ve read, the focus of Frozen 2 is still the “undying love of two sisters” (as Josh Gad put it), just not in the way I was expecting. Anna and Elsa’s bond has been conveyed as so strong it’s almost omnipotent and ethereal, even more so it seems in the sequel, so the interpretation is twofold: does the fact that it’s this strong mean that they always have to be together in order to be happy, or does it mean that time and space doesn’t matter because it’s so strong? Obviously the filmmakers (and others) interpret it the latter way while many fans interpret it the former. But can we really say one view is wrong and the other is right?

And even with all these leaks, there’s still a lot we don’t know: we still don’t know exactly what happens in Ahtohallan and other events leading up to the epilogue. We don’t know for sure that being the “fifth spirit” means Elsa will become a literal spirit or just get a boost in magical power. We don’t know all the whys and hows of her choosing to become the Snow Queen and giving the role of queen to Anna. These are very important plot points that I feel are best judged by actually seeing it with my own eyes and not drawing conclusions from vague book descriptions and concept art. Until I see it for myself, I can’t say how I’ll feel, so it’s better for my health and well being if I just stay positive. But even knowing all that I do about the ending now, when I look at my Frozen collection and all the imagery of Anna and Elsa holding hands and hugging, I’m asking myself “Does my knowledge of the Frozen 2 ending make me feel less connected to all the ‘snow sisters’ stuff I’ve indulged in for six years?” And to be honest, as of now, it doesn’t, which is a good sign. I do feel sad and jarred that I now have to throw out six year’s worth of headcanons and fan stories I’ve created in my mind...but you know what, I’m willing to start again because I still love Anna and Elsa and I think there will always be great story potential for them. I see the “old” Frozen imagery now as, yes, they had their time living together as sisters (would have liked to see more of it in canon but oh well) and now they have different roles in life, but that doesn’t negate the time they shared and the love they have. Of course, my opinion could change when I actually see Frozen 2, for better or worse, but I’ve already spent so long looking forward to this movie, there’s no point in backing out now and not making the best of it. 

As I stated in a past post (from right before the first leaks happened) my Frozen fandom is at a crossroads now and I can’t predict what it will be like a few months from now: I could love Frozen 2 and my fandom will continue on a long time, especially if Disney announces more installments (I still think Frozen 3 or 1.5 is a possibility), or I could find the ending distasteful enough that it makes me lose interest sooner, or regardless of whether I like the sequel or not, I lose interest in Frozen and move onto other fandoms. Or maybe I won’t, and lack of official content from Disney will cause me to take up fanfiction writing or something like that. But whatever happens, I’m going to stay positive because I don’t like being negative. For those of you who are appalled at the ending, I understand and I hope you’ll still see the movie for yourself it’ll change your mind even a little, but please handle it in the way that’s best for you (leave the fandom, indulge in fanfiction, sell your merch). And for others who are being accepting of it, I hope we end up pleasantly surprised.

Okay, I’ve rambled on long enough. This should be the last thought-spilling Frozen 2 post I write until I actually see the movie - I can’t imagine we could get anymore leaks or information at this point that would drastically change my view. In the meantime, I’m just gonna lay low and reserve final judgment until November 22nd (or sooner if I win tickets to the premiere!)

[artboitrash]

His Bloody Rose (Stefano Valentini fanfiction) Chapter 3 - Working Day

Days passed since I had met Stefano on my Wednesday shift; the weekend came and let me move through the motions of daily life. I never ended up looking up his name. While I was curious, I didn't need to go snooping around for information on a stranger.

I sat quietly in the gallery the following Monday, scrolling through my Facebook page, absentmindedly wondering about some more distant friends that I didn't interact with online. Everything, as far as I was aware, was going smoothly in my classes, and I didn't have anything too pressing for the next few weeks. Pet pictures and photos of family members went through my feed interspersed with articles about politics and science breakthroughs.

A new article posted a few hours ago came across my dash, linked to a statement from the Krimson City's police department about an urgent matter. The headline read "Mutilated Woman's Body Found Over the Weekend - Search for Identity Matches Missing Woman from Krimson City" and continued with an introduction to the article.

I clicked on the link and began to scroll through the story, reading about how the body was missing its arms and head, rendering it as barely more than a torso. A crime scene photo, blurred for those who didn't want to see it, showed her crumpled frame laying in a small pool of blood in an alleyway once the filter was removed. There was barely any blood left, showing that the majority of the wounds and bloodletting occurred elsewhere.

"Due to some defensive wounds, police are saying this person was alive while they were being dismembered. Identity of body suspected to be Genevieve Wavers, a young woman pursuing an acting and modeling career. She was last seen in a bar downtown before disappearing six days ago. The police chief will be making a statement today about the series of murders that have been occurring within our beloved town."

I frown slightly as I continue scrolling, discussing how the family of the woman is reacting to the news, how it hasn't been completely confirmed until the DNA testing comes back conclusive, and discussion of how similar murders have been ongoing within the city.

A serial murderer is an interesting idea to study in terms of true crime interests, but it doesn't actually feel fun when there's a real threat living in your city and walking around as though they are a real person.

I shut out of the tab on my phone. That's enough internet for right now, I don't need to become wildly paranoid. So far I think I'm safe from the supposed serial killer, or whoever is killing and dismembering young women in Krimson. Sure I'm a young woman too, but I doubt I'm the ideal victim for them.

I guess I wouldn't really know that, though.

A student walked into the gallery, meandering in slowly. I sat down my phone, sitting attentive to make sure they knew I was there to answer any questions they might have. The waved slightly at me, acknowledging me, then started to walk around the exhibit.

I turned to my sketchbook, staring at the sketch I had been working on before becoming frustrated and turning to my phone for entertainment. I frowned, then picked up my block eraser and began to erase the entire thing. I didn't like how it was turning out, and I knew I would never come back to it, so might as well get rid of it now before it becomes a mental burden to the book and an embarrassment to me.

The student walked towards the desk, causing me to look up at him. He was a student I was familiar with, as he had been in several of my art classes.

"Hey, it's nice to see you again!" He said with a smile, polite as he usually was.

I nodded towards him. "Always good to see you." I made a mental note that I didn't know or remember his name.

"Do you know what this piece is called?" he held up his phone, showing a photograph of a piece from the last gallery installment. "I meant to get it before it came down, but I wasn't able to remember it, and I've asked around my class that needs the paper, but no one knows what it's called."

Someone else walked in, but I didn't pay attention to them while I was preoccupied with the student in front of me. I knew a few teachers in the art department had set a short paper to talk free form about a piece of their selection. A few other students from other classes have come in with the same question, but I'm normally not helpful. Especially now since this installment has been up for nearly a month. I stared at the photo for a moment, recognizing the image but not remembering the name, then shrugged.

"Sorry, I didn't catch most of the names from the last rotation." I said, leaning back in my seat. "I would recommend talking to your teacher and asking if you could do a paper on one of the pieces from this one."

"Oh, alright..." His voice trailed off, turning his phone to himself to look at the photograph again and scratching his neck.

I smiled halfheartedly, turning my attention the other patron. The student was a woman with long brown hair lingering close to the desk I was sitting at, obviously waiting for my attention. The man I was talking to turned and began to wander around the room to look at the pieces again.

The girl walked to my desk. "Uhm, sorry, but do you have any of the last paintings from the last gallery?"

I shook my head. "Only one or two in the backroom since they were sold, but all the name plates are in a pile in a tray mixed with other rotations."

"Okay. . ." her voice hesitated, then she pulled out her phone from her bag and scrolled through it. "Do you know the name of this one?"

She held out her phone with a photograph from the last installment. It was a different piece from what the other student had asked me to remember, but I was still at a loss for the names. I kept my polite smile but sighed internally. Props to her for not eavesdropping on my last conversation. Working in the gallery is fun, but when someone puts off their paper until a month after their reference is pulled off the walls, I tend to feel like it's not worth it.

"Sorry, no." I said. "I don't know the name. If you need it for a paper, I'd recommend asking your teacher if you can change the subject of the paper."

She nods, then puts her phone away, frowning as though she was embarrassed. "Well, thank you anyway."

She walked out of the gallery, hung head a little. I could tell the poor girl was severely anxious. I slid my mouth to the side. I mentally apologized again, though knowing it wasn't my fault, I felt bad that so many people didn't realize that the gallery attendants weren't completely infallible. If I knew the names of each piece from the last artist, I would certainly help the people that came in and asked. However, for now each of the students were on their own until I can get photographic memory like the phones that didn't capture the names of the pieces the students are trying to reference.

I continue trying to work with a sketch on the now blank page laying open in my sketchbook. I play with the lines, trying to turn light scribbles into a full piece, starting over and trying to use the page as a character sheet or as a thumbnail experiment page for paintings. However, I don't seem to be able to make anything work, and I eventually give up on the now messy and greyed page. Perhaps today just isn't my day to continue my drawings.

I sigh and pick up my phone again. I open Facebook again, scrolling through my feed. I come across some more articles discussing the current climate of fear in Krimson, more talks about who might be the serial killer running amongst the citizens. Comments sections full of "Anyone could have done this, we aren't being told anything by the police" and "These officials don't know how to do their jobs, no wonder multiple serial killers have lived here in the past decade."

I frown and try not to think about the current state of the city. Too many police went missing in one of the last incidents in Krimson, so I'm not surprised if they're understaffed or waiting for new personnel. When there aren't as many people to keep the criminals in check, it seems the criminals will run rampant like an invasive species.

Someone walked into the gallery, causing me to look up. It was my coworker, Angela, come to take my place since my shift was now over. I smiled at her and began to pick up my things. We began to make conversation and talked quietly as I stood to leave the gallery. We made jokes about shared experiences from working the gallery, discussing family life and bonding over mutual things.

Finally, I turned and began to leave for my class. I was sure I had wasted enough time chatting, but when I made connections with people I couldn't help investing whatever time was available to be with them. It was exhausting sometimes, but worth it when I can make a strong connection with someone.

Walking out the door from the gallery, I waved and said "see you" to Angela. I walked a few paces, then walked into something. I backed up, stumbling, trying to regain my balance.

I fell as I failed to regain my composure, stumbling backwards over my own feet. The concrete flooring was cold and unflinching, rather painful as my leg bent roughly underneath me. I heard someone's voice cry out with a loud slamming into the ground that wasn't me. It dawned on me that I had run into a person and knocked them over.

I looked over to the person saying "Oh my god, I'm so sorry!"

A man with a single eye obscured by his bangs lay in front of me on the floor, now sitting up and staring at me. It was Stefano, and I could see his portfolio from last time laying across the floor where he had dropped it. His face was twisted in rage, a taught frown on his face and visible eyebrow turned down, casting a dark shadow over his eye. Then his face softened, and he began to get up.

"Well, Miss Rose, I didn't expect to see you again today." He spoke through a tense voice, masking almost pure rage coming through as he spoke. He reached for his portfolio as he stood, then brushed his off, patting down some of the dirt his black suit picked up while on the floor. The top button was undone on his pristine shirt collar, the black coat protecting the pure white fabric from a smudge of dirt across his side.

I hurriedly got up, grabbing my book bag, forgetting that I was in a rush to get to my next class. "I'm so, so sorry, I didn't see you while I was walking."

"Nor did I see you." He said, no longer speaking with an enraged tone. "Though, I would recommend you watch where you are going next time. I doubt few would be as forgiving as me."

I blinked, taken aback from his comment.

His face shifted, then a smile spread across his lips. He lifted his portfolio, then gestured me to follow him. I walked with him as he sat down on a bench across the hall from where I had been standing.

"You are responsible for one of my newest creations, bella." he chuckled quietly as I sat down next to him. "After you had shown me those photos from Miss Sally Mann, I was struck with such inspiration that I had to create something new."

I didn't notice how low he was speaking at first. He opened his leather portfolio, the echo of the zipper bouncing through the hall.

"You developed a new photograph, or. . ."

"I created several, though I am only carrying the best with me in this."

He flipped gently through the transparent folders holding his pictures, as though checking to make sure none were damaged from falling. Once he got closer to the ending, he turned the portfolio to me and set it on my lap. Two pictures looked back at me, one of an eye buried under dozens of hands, staring out at the viewer. I stared at it for a moment, seeing the crispness of the shadows meeting and contrasting with the skin tones of the hands and what was visible of the face. The eye shone in terror it seemed, bloodshot, and almost begging to be saved from the inevitable fate of being touched.

A low rumble of laughter came from the man sitting next to me. "I admire your appreciation, but I was speaking about this one." His gloved hand guided me to the opposite page and tapped it slightly.

It was a woman with missing limbs and head dislocated from her body, face obscured by roses and tree leaves. She was wearing a red dress that turned into a river at her feet, simulating a river of blood flowing through a forest. Large trees overlapped and faded into the background, implying that the focus of the woman was that she was part of a waterfall, leaning back in a near bliss at bringing life to the land around her despite her obvious death.

I felt my heart pound, something about the way the girl stood reminded me of the police report and crime photo I had seen earlier. I blinked and shook my head.

"What are your thoughts?" Stefano shattered my train of thought, a smile crossing his face as I looked up at him. "You are the first. To see this newest work of mine."

I turned back to it, taking in the composition of this photograph, ignoring the gnawing thoughts in the back of my head. I stared, taking in the sharp contrast colors, scarlet dress and crimson flowing liquid clashing like a kiss with the warm brown of the trees and cool leaves. I realized there was a ripple of wind, pushing the dress and leaves in movement swaying to the left of the picture.

"It's. . ." my voice trailed off, not sure how to describe the strange feeling it was evoking in me. "Wonderful."

Silence ensued next to me. I saw his face change in my peripheral vision. I could have sworn his smile had fallen to a frown or a neutral expression. I didn't look at him, but kept staring to absorb each detail.

"It's a little busy with all the details in the bark," I traced the weathered trees with all the heavy lines pointing up and down in near parallel lines. "But the shading, and the lighting, and the contrast... It fits the image perfectly. The leaves by her face are so well contrasted to her dress, and her skin stands out perfectly with the trees."

"Perfectly. . ." he whispered.

I looked up at Stefano, seeing he was staring at me. His gaze was intense and almost distant. He wasn't lost in his thoughts, but his eyes were shifting around me as though seeing something. I turned around to see what he was looking at.

Instantly a hand grabbed my chin, pulling my face back around. Stefano's hand had pulled me back around to stare at him, grip firm and unrelenting. He had leaned forward to grab me, and his concentration was partially lost. Soon the intense gaze resumed and looked around my face and passed me. The cool leather shaping my chin didn't leave, holding me in place as he continued to gaze at me. A slight smirk appeared on his lips, causing me to notice, then turn my own gaze away in embarrassment. I could see his green eye widening, in mania or excitement I wasn't sure.

We sat there like that as people passed us, some I noticed were staring since we were both sitting like statues on the bench. I realized a warm feeling in the pit of my stomach. Most people caused an uncomfortable feeling when they touched me, like cactus needles rubbing underneath my skin. However, this wasn't being triggered while Stefano held my head in place. I could smell his cologne again more faintly this time and the scent of a photography lab, causing a memory to surface from when I took a traditional photography class for my degree.

Finally he let go of me and I backed up. My back protested as I sat up, realizing he had been pulling me slowly towards him. It popped loudly as I sat straight, pulling away from his figure to grab my bag again.

"Excuse me for that, a new image came to my mind and I had to form it properly." He laughed it off slightly.

I looked down at my watch out of habit, then realized I was several minutes late to my first morning class. I grasped the portfolio, still laying in my lap, and handed it to Stefano who had begun to stand up.

"I'm so sorry, I need to leave. I'm late for my class, and I--"

A hand grabbed mine, pulling me up. The strength of the pull made me land awkwardly into the chest of the man who had grabbed me. I looked up into Stefano's eye, a neutral look on his face, but a strange glint in his eye. He frowned, and his eyes narrowed.

"Well, I too am late, bella Rosa," he said while frowning. "I was on my way to a meeting when you ran into me."

His tone implied he hadn't stopped me again and chose to show me his pictures a few minutes ago.

"But, I shall forgive you," he said quietly as he leaned down. "If only you live up to your charm from the first time we met."

He pressed his lips against my forehead, a hand pressing flat against the back of my head. They were warm and soft against my skin. My eyes fluttered closed, making my other senses more noticeable. I was aware of a warmth in my stomach, something odd and new, like a fire or a sick nauseous feeling spreading through me. I swallowed as a lump formed in my throat. His lips against my forehead were gentle, and they lingered probably a little longer than was socially acceptable. His fingertips twitched against my skull, then pulled away. His lips slid up my forehead as he pulled away, lifting his head. My eyes fluttered back open, still not sure this had really happened.

"Hopefully you are still my good luck charm, bella Rosa." Stefano chuckled, smile stretching to one side of his face. He backed away a little, tucking his portfolio under his left arm. "Perhaps we will meet again, and if we have enough time you may model for me to complete the new image flourishing in my mind."

He walked past me slowly, and I turned with him as he walked away. He turned back and glanced at me with a smile still on his face.

I stood, frozen, as I watched him walk away and disappear around the corner. It took me several moments to recollect myself. I came back to the present as I blinked several times. I ignored the odd ache and burn in my stomach, recollecting my thoughts. I shook my head as I made sure I had all my things and began walking to my class. I couldn't care about being late now, my thoughts more scrambling about a near stranger kissing me on the head.

I tried to push down the thoughts and emotions that continued to surface as I walked into my class. I ignored the people that turned and looked at me as I opened the door and made my way through the back of the room.

My mind wouldn't process whatever was the topic of class that day. I pulled out my sketchbook and eventually started drawing on a new page, just trying to push my mind away from the look in his eyes as he had stared at me.

[3w-writer-with-wings]

Kusanagi vs. Yusaku - Ultimate Ordeal indeed

It has finally come to this, the scene from opening that has been keeping us hyped since May, is here! Kusanagi will finally duel, but not against Lightning but against Yusaku! I’ve had several theories about how this would go, but that was months ago and a lot has happened since then. So let’s see what is likely to happen and how this arc will conclude.

From the start, it was rather obvious that neither hacking nor duelling was something Kusanagi was good at. In fact, Kusanagi represents that part of the yugioh fandom that is not that good with the card game. But then again, he is doing all of this for his little brother Jin. If it weren’t for the Lost Incident, Kusanagi would most likely be in college, studying sports, but due to Jin’s condition he completely changed his course of life, becoming a hacker. The whole reason why Kusanagi met Yusaku in the first place was again for Jin. As the fellow Lost Incident victim, Yusaku is set on saving Jin just as much as Kusanagi and getting his consciousness back was his sole goal of this arc.

But what happens now? The ultimate showdown between team Playmaker and Lightning team is about to clash. It is really hard to tell if Soulburner and Blue Maiden will defeat Windy and Bowman, but my guess is – they will. We are currently halfway through Soulburner vs. Windy duel and according to the summary, there is a great chance Takeru and Flame will win. Windy is the kind of a character that becomes careless when being over-confident or angry, just like during the duel with Revolver. Windy made himself clear that he hates humans to the point of attacking his partner. When he saw Flame and Ai being together with their human partners he was most likely disgusted by how attached they were to Yusaku and Takeru. I have a theory why he might hate his partner to this point, but that’s a theory for a separate post. Anyway, Windy will reveal it in the next episode and it is quite possible that Windy sees their partnership as a weakness and Soulburner will have a great chance to prove just how wrong he is. If Windy was shocked by Revolver’s Synchro, just imagine how shocking Takeru’s XYZ would be to him.

Now moving on to Aoi vs. Bowman. The summary revealed that Bowman is indeed grieving due to Haru’s loss so going after Aoi will be a great opportunity for revenge. But then again, Bowman is an AI, programmed with what he is supposed to think and know so he most likely doesn’t understand the concept of siblings, blood-related or not. Now Aoi is such a sibling and in the end, she managed to make Haru understand what it meant and I bet she will use that to her advantage. Something is telling me that Bowman and Haru weren’t a random creation – the concept had to come out of somewhere and in this case, it came from Lightning’s origin – Jin.

Every Lost Child had something to keep them going in order to survive those six months. Yusaku had Revolver’s three reasons. Miyu had Aoi. Spectre had the feeling of importance. Takeru and Windy’s Child probably had something too. Now what about Jin? We still don’t know much about him, except from what Kusanagi said about him – that he used to be cheerful and kind. From the photo we can also guess that he was close to his brother, just as much as Kusanagi was and maybe even idolized him. What if Kusanagi was Jin’s three reasons? What if the thought of his brother kept him going through all of this suffering? A part of that might’ve shaped Lightning and this may as well be a reason why he took Jin’s consciousness in the first place. Jin was afraid and lonely throughout the Lost Incident, longing for his big brother. A part of that remained in Lightning and he no longer wanted to be lonely, so he took Jin, but kept him as a puppet, enough to satisfy his desire to have someone and not in a way with his plans.

So once Aoi defeats Bowman who wishes to be reunited with Haru, his little brother, Lightning realizes just how powerful bonds of siblings are. By now he already lost two strong members of his team and is truly at the end of the rope. What can he do now to defeat four powerful duellists? He is alone and despite being powerful, he knows just how powerful Yusaku is and doesn’t want to risk losing that one duel. So what he does? He looks for the weaknesses. Perhaps he gets the idea when analysing the consciousness data from Blood Shepard and sees how he searched through Takeru’s memories. But then he thinks about Haru’s and Bowman’s bond and thinks about their origin – Jin and Kusanagi. Now Yusaku’s weakness has been revealed back in Tower of Hanoi arc during the duel with Spectre. Yusaku’s greatest weakness is that he doesn’t want to involve anyone but himself in this dangerous mission. He doesn’t care what happens to him, but the second someone’s life is in danger it becomes completely different.

From the start Yusaku has been helping Kusanagi to get revenge on people who hurt Jin. He didn’t think twice about getting the antivirus for Aoi. He froze when Ghost Girl was erased. He refused to attack Spectre when Akira’s life was in danger. He fought Revolver in order to save him. The moment that Jin’s consciousness was taken, he linked in VRAINS. He refused to log out when Takeru was trapped. He tried to save Go. And every single mission in this arc has been dedicated to Jin. Yusaku greatly cares for others since he knows what it means to be hurt, used and isolated. It scarred him for life and he doesn’t want anyone to go through this pain. And this is the kind of a weakness that Lightning would love to use. He has all the means to execute it.

If the bond between Bowman and Haru was enough for him to lose, just how powerful is the bond between Kusanagi and Jin? Powerful enough to strike down someone like Playmaker. Revolver might’ve protected Yusaku from Lightning with that program, but he didn’t make one for Kusanagi. He is all alone in the hot-dog truck if you don’t include Takeru’s and Yusaku’s unconscious bodies, so what is preventing Lightning from snatching up Kusanagi’s consciousness data? Bowman could do it from a turned off TV and there’s more than enough equipment in the truck. Kusanagi might’ve protected it with programs but he said it himself that he is nothing compared to Yusaku – so Lightning would probably have no problem taking him.

And once he gets him in VRAINS, Kusanagi would be most likely taken to that big room where he sees Lightning with Jin. The first reaction would be probably him running to Jin but hesitating once remembering that he is under Lightning’s control. But then Lightning temporarily releases him, showing that he cares and now understands the bond between them, especially once Jin recognizes his brother. Lightning says he can release him or makes it possible for Kusanagi to stay there with him and traps Jin once more just to prove his point.

“I can release his consciousness data. You two can be together again.”

But it comes with a price. He needs Ai and Playmaker. He’s been obsessed with him, even going as far as basing Bowman on them. Bowman lost three times against them and he cannot afford another mistake – especially now that Bowman and Windy had been defeated. His last straw is Playmaker’s weakness – involving someone else. And who better for this job than his own acquaintance and the reason behind all of the latest missions. Lightning could even threaten to kill Jin – as it was most likely proven – Lost Child and their Ignis can survive on their own. Spectre was affected but not hurt when Earth was erased and Windy pretty much got rid of his Lost Child – it is still not clear if he is alive or not, but judging from Windy’s words – even if he would die it wouldn’t effect Windy. So if Lightning killed Jin, it wouldn’t matter.

Kusanagi so becomes Lightning’s lapdog, carrying out his orders in hopes he can save Jin. Yusaku reaches the headquarters but instead of Lightning, Kusanagi is there to challenge him to a duel. Yusaku and Ai try to talk Lightning and Kusanagi out of it, but in the end, there’s nothing else to do but duel. The duel bears a slight similarity to the one between Kaiba and Yugi back in the Duelist Kingdom where Pegasus made Kaiba duel Yugi in exchange for his brother. Only this time, there are two friends. Yusaku might’ve always referred to Kusanagi as his acquaintance, but I believe he is the closest thing to a friend Yusaku ever had. True he only acknowledged Ryoken and Takeru as his friends but as far as I can see it, Yusaku cares about him the most since he is trying to save his brother. There’s no denying that Kusanagi sees Yusaku as Jin, someone he cares about like his own family, but how far is he willing to go for his brother? He has already given up his dream, ten years of his life and quite possibly his future as well for Jin. Is he willing to give up Yusaku as well? Probably not, but deep down he probably does.

And then we have Yusaku, selfless and tragic hero who got everything taken from him and yet he is ready to sacrifice himself for the sake of others. But this time, the situation is tricky. Even if Yusaku surrendered there would be one other life being sacrificed besides his own – Ai. In the last few episodes, Yusaku has become even more attached to Ai and even acknowledged him as his own person. Surrendering would mean giving up Ai as well, so not only is Kusanagi torn between Yusaku and Jin but Yusaku is torn between Kusanagi and Ai. And not only that – who knows what Lightning will do with Ai and Yusaku? Even if Lightning keeps his word and returns Jin’s consciousness to his body, what would become of the world?

So here are three scenarios of how will this duel turn out.

1) Playmaker wins:

In the most optimistic scenario, Kusanagi puts up a good fight but in the end, duelling is not his thing and Yusaku defeats him. With the final win, Yusaku demands for Jin’s soul and everyone else’s souls to be returned but Lightning tries to make an escape in the last second. Fortunately Ryoken, Takeru and Aoi block him from all sides and it ends with Ryoken erasing him with the very same virus that greatly damaged Windy. With everyone safe and Lightning gone, Team Playmaker and Knights of Hanoi are enemies again and they decide to take care of SOL separately. The next arc so deals with SOL.

2) Draw or no result:

This one is a bit tricky, but it has a great opportunity to explore Yusaku’s and Kusanagi’s relationship. In this case, it would be like the duel between Yugi and Joey – both the one in Duelist Kingdom and Battle City. Like I explained in one of the previous analyses, Yusaku was never able to develop his social skills so he most likely doesn’t understand what being a friend really means. He wants Kusanagi to win but at the same time, he doesn’t want to lose Ai. Kusanagi might break down or unleash his anger, becoming an entirely different person, the one that Yusaku doesn’t know and is ever scared of. Yusaku might even end up the same as Ryoken during the duel with Takeru, and doesn’t do anything, leaving his fate entirely to Kusanagi. In the end, Ryoken, Takeru and Aoi might be able to arrive on the scene and save Jin and scenario is similar to the one where Playmaker wins. But it also could end up with Kusanagi staying behind with a secret program that erases Mirror VRAINS – along with him. Team Playmaker might win, but they lose Kusanagi.

3) Playmaker loses:

And the scenario that I would like to see the most – Playmaker loses and for a very good reason. From the start we’ve been asking ourselves when will Yusaku lose and how. Of course for someone who sees duelling as a matter of survival it has to be a very good reason to lose – either with a very powerful opponent or his only weakness. Kusanagi is not much of a duelist, but he is someone Yusaku cares about and in such situations, Yusaku won’t duel like he normally does. When Yusaku duelled Spectre he wasted an opportunity to win when Akira’s life was in danger. I still wonder how that duel would’ve played out had Akira not sacrificed himself and the most common scenario is that Yusaku loses or someone interferes with the duel. Yusaku might appear cold but he has a pure heart and refuses to put others in danger. One of the main themes of VRAINS is future – which is something that Yusaku believed he no longer has but has been slowly getting it back. For him to give up his future would be the ultimate sacrifice.

So let’s say Yusaku loses on purpose – either by letting Kusanagi win or turning the duel against him. It is quite possible Kusanagi has been studying Yusaku’s deck lately and knows how to defeat him. Lightning gets what he wants – Playmaker and Ai – and the rest is thrown out of the Mirror VRAINS. Lightning might’ve lost Windy and his ultimate project – Bowman, but he has a new project now. Instead of Bowman, Yusaku becomes a carrier of all Ignis and Ai is the first one to forge with him. Mirror VRAINS becomes a new domain where Lightning uses all captured souls aka. Spectre and Blood Shepard to protect it while he works on his new project. Yusaku is once again a prisoner of a cruel experiment, living in the same nightmare with no escape. Only this time he is trapped completely, robbed of his free will.

Kusanagi, Takeru, Aoi and Ryoken all suffer a heavy loss – they might’ve got Jin back, but they lost Yusaku, Ai and Spectre. The team may break apart, lost and not sure what they can do. Yusaku’s unconscious body is taken to a hospital and his fate is left unknown. Takeru might reveal his identity to Aoi so they can go check on Yusaku together. Kusanagi spends his time at Jin’s side, waiting for him to wake up and blames himself for losing Yusaku. SOL continues working on their own Ignis and they get contacted by Lightning who reveals that Playmaker is now under his control and will go after them next.

We’ve seen the cases where protagonist turns into antagonist like when Judai succumbed to the power of Supreme King and when Yu-boys were merged to become Zarc. Yusaku becoming the ultimate AI would be an interesting plot twist. Just think – the hero and saviour of VRAINS suddenly becomes its biggest threat. People are in disbelief and question just who can stop him now. SOL assures that they have the means to defeat him, but I believe there needs to be a team to stop him. What team? Team Playmaker of course.

Ryoken might reconnect with Kusanagi, Takeru and Aoi and they also have a new member – Jin. Maybe the experience with Lightning brought his soul back from the cage he’s been stuck in for the last ten years and is determined to bring Yusaku back after everything that Yusaku did for him. Aoi might even include Miyu after getting her consciousness back from Bowman. The fight is on and Yusaku duels four Lost Children in the ultimate Battle Royale, but in the end Ryoken is the one to defeat him.

What follows next? It is hard to tell considering there is a lot of what-ifs. Maybe Lightning finally stops with his plan and becomes Jin’s partner and together they face against the last enemy - SOL. Maybe SOL used the duel between the ultimate Playmaker vs. Revolver to have their own Ignis learn from it. If the duels between six-year-olds created Ignis, just how powerful SOL’s Ignis might be? Though

then again it is quite possible that the first and the second scenario may play out. Who knows, maybe there is the fourth scenario or a mixture of all three.

But I can already say that Yusaku vs. Kusanagi will be a very emotional duel and I won’t be surprised if the English dub plays “No matter what” in the background during this duel.

[xwomanscornedx]

TW: domestic violence, assault, gas-lighting, trauma

I officially “met” my ex fall of Sophomore year.  We knew “of” each other before hand, but had not really had any reason to hang out or talk prior.  We had both won lead roles in our high school play, and ended up having a few scenes together.  During the several months of rehearsal, we learned we had a lot in common and were “sympatico” in many ways.  He would start a joke, and I would finish it. In improv, one of us would begin a scene and the other could pick it up perfectly. We both sang and played guitar.  He started a band.  I started an entertainment company, ect.  At the time, he was dating a friend of mine so obviously we never went past casual acquaintances because I’m not the type to interfere in a relationship – but I did develop a light crush.  After high school we stayed in contact. Sometimes he would stop over, have a beer, and watch something stupid or play video games. Other times, we just shared memes on Facebook. Two years ago, we reconnected while we were both going through hard times. We had hung out before, so I didn’t think anything of him inviting me over to hang out and have a beer.  We walked to the store, and on the way back he gently held my hand.  We got back to his place, and he pushed me against his van and kissed me hard.  From then on, we were inseparable.  After only a few months, we officially moved in together and for a while, everything was great.  Honestly, the best relationship I’ve ever had.

We were intense.  He confessed that he’d had his eye on me for quite some time, and it was like all the pent up feelings between us were coming out in full force.  Being with him felt so good, almost intoxicating.  We had plans to buy an RV when we both retired and travel the country. Hell, we were even at the point where we were looking at houses together.  He wanted his own shop, and the plan was for him to take care of the technical aspects (lead mechanic, hiring, orders) and I would handle the business aspects (payroll, customer service, bookkeeping).  I truly believed that we were each other’s happy ending.  Sadly, this was temporary.

The abuse began gradually.  I have compared it several times to a frog in boiling water.  If you put a frog directly in boiling water, it will jump out and run.  However, if you put a frog in luke warm water and slowly turn up the heat, it will eventually boil to death before it realizes it’s in danger.  Things started small:  Little comments about my weight or abilities, drinking more and more, taking the change from my change jar, ect.  Over the next year and a half, things got worse. Eventually, he was breaking things and punching walls. He would get so drunk that he couldn’t form complete sentences.  During this time, I was trying desperately to help him.  I had known him for so long and truly believed that if he just quit drinking, everything would be fine.  

Then the physical abuse began.  He broke my rib trying to crack my back, even though I begged him to stop.  He tried to set me on fire in our bathroom.  He would wake me up by pissing on my face when he was angry with me. Once, he got so mad at me for taking too long in the bathroom that he busted the door open, grabbed me by my hair, and threw me out.  I landed on my tailbone and cracked it.  To this day, I still have issues.  I performed in the Vagina Monologues with two black eyes because he was mad I was acting again and he wasn’t.  By our two year anniversary, I had quietly accepted that I would die in this apartment.  My friends had all but stopped talking to me, he cost me every job I had either by forcing me to quit, making it impossible for me to sleep, or showing up drunk and causing a scene so I couldn’t afford to leave him.  

This next paragraph is very triggering.  If you are sensitive to topics of violent rape, please don’t read this  Move on.  Scroll down.  Because yes, he did.  Sometimes, it wasn’t that “bad” I guess.  He wouldn’t allow me to sleep on the bed if I wouldn’t perform for him.  He would throw my pillow on the floor and make me sleep there, and sometimes if I was lucky I could just opt for the couch instead.  One thing was for sure, when he was in those moods it was my choice to either have sex with him or find somewhere else to sleep in my own home.  Other times, I wasn’t so lucky.  The worst one I only have vague clips of memory from.  I can’t even remember how we got to this point.  But I do remember him on top of me, spitting in my face, and screaming how much he hated me.  I started to cry because it hurt.  I was bleeding.  I was begging him to stop and praying for it to be over quick if he didn’t. And he just hawked a loogie in my eye and put a pillow over my head so he “wouldn’t have to look at that (my) ugly face”.  I cried so hard I eventually just went out of my head.  I wasn’t there, mentally, and honestly don’t remember much after that moment.  I know he was eventually tired of me and pushed himself away from me to sleep.  In the morning I was so sore it was hard to walk.  Hard to pee.  Hard to wear underwear.  I wanted to die.  

Honestly, there’s more abuse than even this.  Some things, however, are still too painful to discuss and some I am remembering slowly.  As anyone who has worked with trauma victims before will tell you, our brain blocks out some things that are just too much for it do deal with.  It’s known as cognitive dissidence.  

On July 25th, we had another fight.  I wanted to go to bed early because I had a 9am interview.  He wanted to stay up, listen to music loudly, and have sex.  One thing you may or may not know, I am sterile.  I can’t have kids.  I tried to sleep through him, but about an hour after I laid down he barged into the bedroom, turned on all the lights, and began grabbing at me and telling me how he was going to “breed” me.  I pushed him off of me, which made him very angry.  He was already close to two six packs in by this point.  He immediately jumped on the bed and began punching me repeatedly.  Somehow I managed to grab my mace and sprayed him with it.  All this seemed to do was make him angrier.  He jumped me again and rubbed the mace on my eyes and inner thighs before finally collapsing from pain by the back door.  I managed to force my eyes open enough through the pain to reach the kitchen, grab the milk, and lock myself in the bathroom where I called 911.  

The entire time I was waiting for the cops, he was pounding on the door threatening to bash my head in with a hammer.  Since he had used a hammer multiple times to beat down the back door or put holes in the ceiling, I 100% believed that if he got that door open before the cops got there, he was going to kill me.  Thank God the cops got there quickly and he was arrested.

Between that day and his trial at the end of October, he broke the no contact order repeatedly with phone calls, voice mails, texts, and even emails. Hearing him tell me time and again that he loved me and wanted to change for me was heartbreaking, because I was (and still am) madly in love with him.  But trauma bonding is real.  I managed to stay strong and move forward.  It was hard.  The first few months I didn’t even know where rent would come from.  But my friends and family came together and kept me afloat enough that I made it through.  

Money issues aside, I started playing Minecraft while watching PewDiePie Minecraft videos.  It may seem dumb to some, but it made it feel like I was playing games with someone.  Like there was someone always with me so I wasn’t so alone.  I slowly fixed all the holes and broken things in my apartment, and even repainted some of the furniture to make it my own style.  I called my mom daily (Mom, I’m so sorry.  I know how annoying I was) and slowly went out more to see people who cared about me.  I even managed to get a job in the warehouse of [REDACTED] and found solace in the manual labor I did there.  I became the second best truck thrower in the building – second only to my boss’s boss.

I’m also still learning just how deep this has broken me.   A friend recently asked everyone to comment one of their talents, and I honestly couldn’t come up with anything.  I feel like I have no talents or anything special that makes me worthy of existing.  I still say things like “I know I’m not a catch or anything...” and think that when guys are nice to me, it’s because they pity me. It’s like this constant self doubt – even self hate – that taints every aspect of my life.

So that’s it. That’s why I’ve been so quiet.  He took a plea deal and will have to complete intense addiction therapy, and be on probation so strict he won’t even be able to fart without [REDACTED] County’s permission. But as for me, I’m damaged right now, but filling my cracks with gold one day at a time.  I’m in therapy and planning my first vacation since being free.  I’m getting my entertainment company back up and running. But every day I fight his voice in my head telling me I’m not smart enough.  Not pretty enough.  Not thin enough.  Wondering what I did to make him so mad?  Wondering why he stopped calling me his “sweet girl”.  He used to ask me to get him coffee in the morning before work.  I would smile and say jokingly “And what makes you think I’ll do that?” and he would reply “Because you’re a sweet girl” and kiss me on my forehead. I miss that, but not enough to go back to a place where I looked at death as my only escape from him.

[areiton]

If you're still doing them: 5+ headcanons for steter post-apoc au? Thank you =D

Ok so. Fun fact: I’ve been wanting to write a post-apocalyptic Steter for ages. If this turns into a real fic one day, I’m blaming you.

1. When the apocalypse happens, Stiles is on the other side of the country. He gets one call from Peter before the power grid goes down–I’m coming. Stay there. Stay alive.–everyone around him says it’s idiotic. There’s no way one man can get across the entire continent, not by himself.

Stiles smiles and nods and goes about digging himself in.

2. Peter can’t leave immediately. There’s the pack to consider–John to consider because Stiles will kill him if John isn’t taken care of. Chris Argent takes John, and heads to Mexico, to Derek and Cora. He think John only agrees so that Peter can move faster, getting to Stiles.

So he goes. Alone.

3. Stiles gets used to being alone. He raids Quantico when he can, works his way through the apartment complex he lives in, scavenging. There’s a little bit of guilt in it–the people died, and the disease…it didn’t kill quick and easy. The death was gruesome and it killed eighty percent of the population. Dirty bombs killed more, and the EMP knocked the power off, and all of it brought the world right down to it’s knees. Sometimes he wondered if anyone else was doing any better–but in the end it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except waiting and staying alive.  

4. Peter knew it would take time. He didn’t expect it to take this long It takes him almost two years to reach the Mississippi, and by then he’s beginning to think maybe he won’t get to Stiles. He’s a werewolf, and this has almost killed him–the disease, the warring factions of survivors, the damn cult that took over Denver–several times over.

But there’s hope, and he will always run on hope. If anyone can survive the end of the world, it’s his boy.

Sometimes he wonders about Chris and John, about Derek and Cora. But halfway through his second year on the road, he feels new pack bonds flaring, and his bond to Derek going brighter and he smiles. It’s the first time in six months he smiled.

5. It’s lonely. Stiles has always been a social creature, and being part of a wolf pack only exacerbated that. Being alone–and he is, he’s utterly alone now–it’s been three years since the disease and the bombs and two since he saw someone who wasn’t trying to kill him.

Still. He’s alive. He has a routine for scavenging and protecting his little carved out territory, and he even hunts sometimes, gets some fresh meat. He’s got his piles of books and his steadily growing stack of notebooks, and he’s alive.

He got sick, once, the winter before.Not the disease–just a normal sickness but in the dead of winter with no heat and no medicine and no one to help him–Stiles thought it was really fucking ironic a common fucking cold almost killed.

Still. He’s alive.

Peter is coming for him, and he’s alive.

6. Peter kills a pair of hunters outside of the burnt remains of Lexington. One of them has a bat, old and carved with runes and he loses his shit, when he sees it. Strings them up and carves them slow. They talk. Of course they talk. They tell him everything–but most importantly, they talk about a bunker in Virginia, survivor named Red who will help children and the truly desperate but is brutal about protecting his territory.

Peter smiles, and it’s savage and bloody, and he leaves their bodies there, as he goes.

7. Stiles is in his garden, when he hears the howl.

He’s been thinking about this day for four years, and he’s dirty and sweaty and there’s a pile of cucumbers at his feet when he stands up. Peter Hale walking up to him–it’s something he’s dreamed for so long he almost doesn’t believe it.

“I usually wake up now,” he says and Peter smiles. He looks different. There’s a beard and his hair is long and messy, his clothes ripped and dirty. He isn’t even wearing shoes.

“Me too,” Peter admits, and he holds out a hand.

8. A shudder goes through Stiles, when he wraps his hand around Peter’s long, soft fingers. He’s real, and he’s really here. Tears gather in his eyes, and Peter brings him close, wraps his boy in his arms and whispers in his hair. “Sorry it took me so long, sweetheart.”

Stiles sniffles and rubs his eyes against Peter’s dirty shirt. “Doesn’t matter. You’re here, now.”

9. He makes Peter shower before they have sex, and it takes a few days, before Stiles can coax Peter out of bed to look at his stockpile. Peter knows they need to get on the road, head to Mexico and their pack–but he’s been traveling so long, he doesn’t want to think about another endless journey.

10. Stiles, though. Stiles is brilliant and had four years to plan. The Jeep has been rebuilt and armored, using tech he stole from FBI headquarters and the Navy shipyard. He’s gutted it and it’s waiting for Stiles to cram it full of all the supplies he’s spent four years stockpiling.

He knows they won’t take everything, he tells Peter. But they’ll have room to take a lot.

Peter stares at him, bright eyed and so in love he can’t stand it.

11. They don’t leave for another week, but only because neither can stay out of bed long enough to think about leaving.

12. It takes two months to get to Mexico and the pack, and Stiles squeezes Peter’s hand as the roll up. “Thanks for coming to get me, Peter.”

Peter leans over to kiss him once more. “Any time, sweetheart.”

[sassyshoulderangel319]

Lost Everything - A Fic Swap

for @saviorsong​ - Love ya girlie! 

MASSIVE Endgame spoilers so if you’re NOT saviorsong and read this but haven’t seen it yet, you. have. been. warned!

I did not intend for this to be 3,800+ words but here we are.

Wind howls in your ears, pulling at your chestnut curls, as you fall through endless darkness—occasionally broken by a flicker of light. Lightning, if you had a guess. Your overlong coat flaps around your knees as you plunge headfirst into the bottomless abyss below you. The speed and shadows are wearing you out. Your body isn’t handling the stress of this fall very well.

This is pointless, your mind whispers. You’re going to die here and you’ll never save anyone.

I have to try, the more conscious part of your mind retorts to your self-doubt. It’ll work. I can do this.

If you insist, those doubts sneer.

You shut them up. You don’t have time for doubts right now. You got stuff to do. A mission to complete. Friends to save. Friends, family… civilization.

The ground rushes toward you, looming from the darkness.

Thud!

“Oof!” All the breath leaves your lungs.

You sit up.

You’re in the middle of a familiar-looking battlefield.

A crumbled building stands behind you—with a logo on it that makes your heart ache. A large letter A, with an arrow as the crossbar and a circle around it.

The Avengers compound in upstate New York. The sight of that logo, somehow intact despite the destruction, causes a chasm of loneliness to yawn open in your chest. How you missed them all…

“Hey Stark! Cap! We got a random chick in a black leather trench coat in the battlefield,” you hear someone call. You glance around. A man grows to normal size in front of you. “Hey. Who’re you?”

You stare. “S… Scott?” you ask.

The man leans away. “Have we met?”

“Now’s not the time for pleasantries, Lang!” someone else shouts.

At that moment, a six-limbed infantry creature—a “space dog” as that raccoon had once called them—leaps over the decimated ground, growling as it hurtles toward you. Scott vanishes—although “shrinks” would be the more accurate term—with a cry of surprise.

But you’re ready for the space dog.

The long dagger—“Or is it a short sword?” the voice of a passed friend teases in your mind—in your hand slices the thing clean in half. Disgusting body fluids—you’re not sure if it’s blood or guts or what combination—splatter over you. You wipe your eyes and mask and leap over the boulders, searching the battlefield for more familiar faces. Scattered over the churned earth are millions of enemies—but thousands of friends. You see the light shields of the Mystic Artists, the blue sonic cannons of the Wakandans, the flash of Cap’s shield as it sliced cleanly through the air, the lightning of… is that Mjolnir? Or Stormbreaker? Or is it Mjolnir and Stormbreaker?

You snicker. One weapon never seemed like enough for Thor.

Scott reappears. “Who are you? That was amazing!”

“Oh, Scott,” you say affectionately. “I haven’t even gotten started yet.”

“How do you know my name? Do we know each other?” he asks, chasing after you as you take off across the chaotic fight.

“Not in this reality,” you say, just loud enough for him to hear it over the explosions. You rip the hem of your coat out of the claws of a space dog and drive your dagger into its guts.

Ignoring Scott’s stunned face, you make your way toward the lightning. Out of everyone you lost, that blond idiot was the one you missed the most.

You weave and leap and pounce on space dogs, letting your blade and muscles do their work. Your heart is pulling you toward Thor like he’s a magnet in the hands of a child and you’re a paperclip lost in the depths of a sofa, drawn irrevocably toward him.

Vaulting over a mound of upturned dirt and rock and concrete, you come face-to-face with a face that makes your heart reach out. Panting, you stare at him for a moment. “Thor…” you breathe, staring at him. He’s… different from the Thor in your reality. His hair is long—as is his beard. Your Thor was like that too—between his beheading of Thanos and the events that led up to this very fight in your reality, but his Asgardian physique had burned off the excess bodyweight faster when you dragged him out of his depression by that overlong hair.

He stares back at you. You become very aware of the fact that you’re covered in gunk from slaughtering space dogs mercilessly. There’s blood—some of it possibly your own—clumping your curls and splattered over your skin, mask, and coat.

“Have… we met?” he asks.

You shake your head. “Not in this timeline,” you say. “In my timeline, though, we’re close.”

He reaches out and brushes a curl away from your face. “Yes… something… in my heart… recognizes you,” he says. His face sobers. He pushes you behind him and takes a swing at six space dogs at once with Stormbreaker, slicing them all to several pieces with a single swing.

Hot dang.

“Where’s Mjolnir?” you ask.

“Rogers has her,” he replies.

You can’t help but grin. No matter the timeline or reality, Steve was always worthy.

You hear a familiar snikt! And a slender, rather short boy drops onto the ground, letting go of a web. “Mr. Thor, sir,” young Peter Parker exclaims, out of breath. “It’s… the gauntlet.” He glances at you. “Uh… who are you?”

You smile at him. “Call me Evergreen,” you say.

“Uh, hi, uh, Evergreen. I’m, uh, Spider Parker. I mean—Peter-Man. I mean—” The kid swore under his breath. “Never mind.”

“It’s okay Spider-Man,” you say. “Now. What was that about the gauntlet.”

“Oh yeah! The flying, glowing space lady—whatever her name was—is racing for the quantum tunnel! She’s got help and she’s almost there but Thanos is heading right for her!”

Thor grabs you and launches into the air. “No time to waste!” he exclaims. You hold onto him tightly. It’s been… a while since he held you like this.

Since your Thor held you like this. You shake your head. This isn’t your Thor. You know it’s not. But… he kind of is. All Thor’s are… kind of your Thor. They’re all still Thor.

Man. Alternate realities and timelines were going to give you such a massive headache later.

^*^*^*^*^

You stand on the dock of New Asgard in Tønsberg, Norway, staring out over the ocean. Thor had brought you back with him after… the funeral. Thor is standing next to you, his remaining blue eye reflecting the color of the sea.

“So,” he says. “Tell me where you’re from.”

You sigh, glancing down at the wooden dock. “I’m from a timeline—a reality—where that fight didn’t… end quite so well.”

“Explain,” Thor requests. It sounds like an order, but the gentlest order you’ve ever heard.

You plop down on the dock, crossing your legs underneath you. Thor seats himself beside you. “We lost. In my reality, I’m an Avenger. Have been for… a long time. Years. Nat used to jokingly tease us that it was a bad idea to date a teammate. But the you in my reality and I didn’t care. Never did. And Nat was never serious anyway.” You shake your head. “Anyway. We lost. Tony didn’t manage to get the stones off the other gauntlet and Carol didn’t get it through the quantum tunnel either. Thanos just repeated what he’d done that we fought so hard to undo. What Nat…” You sniff. Thor reaches up and wipes a single tear from your left eye. “What Natasha sacrificed herself for. And… not only did we lose… but we fell. Thanos… he killed everyone. The whole team. He… he shredded the universe like he said he would.”

“How did you survive?”

You hold your dagger out. The glowing green gem in the hilt pulses in the mid-morning light. “I’m… before I was an Avenger, I had a past. Like everyone else. But it wasn’t noble like yours or Cap’s—”

“Mine is debatable,” Thor remarks. You snicker.

“Fair point,” you concede with a small grin. “Anyway. My past was more like Clint’s or Natasha’s. I… wasn’t always a hero. I fancied myself more of a Robin Hood character but… a thief is a thief, right?”

“A thief, eh? Is that the reason for the knee-length black leather coat?”

You smile. “It is,” you agree, glancing down at your outfit. It’d been repaired since the battle at the compound.

Form-fitting black trousers, combat boots, dark green shirt, stitched-up coat. After the space dogs nearly shredded your coat, you’d fixed it up.

“My apologies. Continue with your story.”

You tug your mask out of your pocket and stare at it contemplatively. “I wore many masks during that time, as a thief. But this dagger… well. It came to me when I was stealing something else.” You can’t help but chuckle at the memory. “It lets me jump between timelines and alternate realities. This stone… it’s not an Infinity Stone, but it’s still powerful in its own way. When Thanos shredded the universe and rebuilt it anew, I jumped ship before he could get me.”

“Indeed. That stone is powerful if it brought you here,” Thor agrees. “Tell me. Why do I feel my heart calling for yours when you and I have never met before?”

You stare out to sea, not looking at him. Behind you, somewhere, Valkyrie shouts at some human punk who was, “getting familiar.” You can’t help but snicker. You haven’t felt this at-home in months. Since everyone was stolen from you.

“In my reality, you and I were closer than just dating. We were… basically married. But it was different. It was less of a legal bond and more of a heart bond. We could always feel each other’s hearts and the closer we were, physically, the easier we could feel each other’s actual emotions. Made it hurt all the worse when the you in my universe died. That bond is lingering around me, I guess. And it’s still reaching for you. You’re still Thor.”

Thor hums in thought. “I see. I understand.” He’s quiet for several moments. “Why did you come here, Melody?”

You finally meet his eyes. “I lost my universe. I lost my family and friends. You. Everything and everyone I ever cared about. Why do you think I’m here?”

“Solace? Refuge?”

“I came to ask for help,” you retort, sharper than you intend. “I can make it back to my universe with this. If we can make it back before he destroys the stones the way he did the first time, I could get all of them back.”

Thor sighs. “We’ve already lost… so much.”

“I know. But don’t you think I lost a lot too?”

“You misunderstand,” Thor says. “I am not refusing. We’ve lost so much in this timeline as well, but we’re the Avengers. It’s our job to Avenge what we lose. And you’re the last Avenger of your timeline. I would gladly accompany you for another chance to kill that disgusting. However, I don’t think I can do so on my own. I will ask and see if anyone wishes to join. I swear to you, we will try to bring your universe—and your husband—back to you.”

“Thank you,” you say. “On one condition.”

“Name it.”

You smile. “I get to drive my blade into his eye socket.”

“A privilege I will gladly allow you.” Thor kisses your hair. Your heart aches and you desperately wish to bring his lips to yours. But you remind yourself, he may look like your Thor before you dragged him out of his depression, but he is not. You take what comfort you can from him in the form of his arm around you and his lips in your hair.

“Thank you.”

“Give me three days to rally some warriors. Then we will see about returning to your universe and avenging it.”

“Take your time, but not too much. I don’t know how long we have before Thanos destroys the Stones in my universe.”

“Of course. I understand.”

“Thank you, Thor.”

^*^*^*^*^

You, Thor, and the rest of your more ragtag group of Avengers from another world spew out of your portal. Thor’s landing is much smoother than your jump into his world. He sets you down gently.

“Now,” he says, peering around the remade universe.

You smirk and peer up at him through your cleaned mask. “Bring me Thanos,” you purr.

He smirks in turn and flicks a loose curl off your shoulder. “Gladly,” he says.

You and your group charge off.

As you run, you look around the remade universe. At the very least, the remade Earth is beautiful. Much as you hate to admit it—even internally to yourself—Thanos has an eye for natural beauty.

If only it could come without his price of you losing everyone you love.

You clench your jaw. You can’t appreciate the beauty without your Thor by your side.

“Guys, I’m getting an energy signature!” Banner calls from just ahead of you. “I think it’s the Stones!”

“Let’s go!” you shout, finding more energy to keep going forward. Thor claps your shoulder.

“It’s going to work. I promise,” he says.

You nod in determination. “It will. We’re together.”

He nods back. You know he’s thinking that he’s not your Thor, but he’s still willing to give you support. Perhaps it’s the bond between you and your universe’s Thor tugging at him from your heart still. Maybe it’s just that he’s a big golden retriever full of love and heart.

You turn back towards where you’re running after Banner. “Let’s take him down!”

^*^*^*^*^

“Evergreen, now!” Thor shouts, holding Thanos around the neck.

You leap on him, knees holding you to the alien’s massive purple barrel chest.

Ruthlessly, you drive your dagger into Thanos’ eye. “That’s for my husband, you monster,” you snarl.

He goes limp underneath you. You manage to flip off him before he collapses. Thor tears the Avengers’ version of the Infinity Gauntlet off Thanos’ arm. You stare at it. That’s what killed Tony in this Thor’s universe. You and Tony were similar: no powers whatsoever. Your strength came from gadgets and objects—as well as intelligence and training. You couldn’t put that glove on, snap your fingers, and get your husband and friends and family back and live to tell the tale.

You can’t ask Banner to do the snap again either. It damaged him too—in your universe and his. You couldn’t have a random person do so either because they had no context and wouldn’t want to erase their whole universe. The normal people probably weren’t even aware that they were only created days ago at the expense of the people in the universe that existed before they did.

You pick up the gauntlet and quietly handle it. It’s decimated after already being used once by Thanos to remake your reality. It’s going to be hard to use again. The nanotech is damaged.

“Melody, don’t,” Thor says, setting his hand on top of the gauntlet and pushing it down so it’s out of your immediate field of vision. “Don’t even think about putting that thing on.”

“Who else is there?” you ask, looking up at him. His mismatched eyes meet yours steadily. “There’s no one else.”

Thor pushes his fingers into your hair, brushing it out of your face. It’s stained with Thanos’ violet blood. “Please, Melody, let me. Let me wear the glove and bring your family and friends back.”

“I… why would you do that? You’re not even from this reality!”

“I failed my reality once. If I can save yours, I can consider myself redeemed.” He tugs the gauntlet from your grip.

“Thor, no!” you try to protest, reaching for it. He holds it away from you. “I can’t—I can’t lose you again. You’re not even mine but I… I know I can’t… I couldn’t handle watching you die again.” Thor’s arm holding the gauntlet as far away from you as possible relaxes a little.

“You won’t. This won’t kill me. I swear to you.” He smiles and jams his hand into the damaged gauntlet.

“Thor, wait!”

He smiles reassuringly and lifts his hand. He snaps his fingers.

You reach out as the gauntlet flares with bright white light. “Thor!”

For a moment, a void of white overtakes you, leaving you standing there in an endless expanse of light. You whirl in all directions, looking for the existence of literally anything or anyone else. Your dagger is clenched in your hand. For several long moments you’re alone in the light.

Then the light fades away, and you’re standing where you were.

Thor is standing there with his right arm—and armor—heavily burned. The gauntlet has fallen off his hand.

He stoops and picks up the blue Space Stone and red Reality Stone in one burned hand. The other whole hand brushes another chestnut curl from your eyes. “This is where we say our goodbyes, Melody. I’ll return myself and the others back to our own reality. I wish you the…” He winces and recoils as something hurts him. “The very best of luck. And the greatest happiness.” He smiles at you, both eyes sightly watering.

His ragtag Avengers gather around him. A portal of swirling red and blue opens and they all disappear.

You’re left alone.

The universe around you starts to dissolve. Turning to dust the same way you had seen half of your universe do five years before. Once everything is gone, you’re left floating weightless in an empty void. This time of darkness.

The shadows start to swirl, slowly at first and then getting faster and faster. You start spinning with its rotation, caught up in its momentum. The darkness begins to generate light. Red, then orange, yellow, green, blue, and vibrant violet. You clench your dagger tighter in your hand for stability—searching for one thing solid and real.

Reality seems to stretch and snap like a dolly zoom in a horror movie.

You’re standing on the ruined earth of the battlefield at the Avengers compound.

Alone.

Dust and ash seems to coalesce from the burning ground.

Each one becomes a person.

A friend. A family member. A warrior. A Mystic Artist. A Wakandan. A captain or two. And—

“THOR!” You can’t help it—seeing him again washes you with joy. This time, it’s your Thor. Short hair, short beard, and all. The bond between the two of you is pulling you right toward him. You heed it without caution, running at him from the moment he reformed. Your legs are throbbing slightly from all the running today, but you forget about the discomfort entirely.

You leap on him, wrapping both arms and legs around him, keeping your dagger’s blade away from him to keep him safe. He catches you and holds you tightly. You can feel relief and shock flowing down your bond from his heart to yours.

“Melody,” he whispers like the very sound of your name brings him rapture, a few chestnut curls pressed between his lips and your ear. “What happened?”

You climb off him slightly just so that you’re on your own feet. “I’ll explain fully later. For now… I’m just ecstatic to have you back.”

He smiles softly at you.

Thinking in perfect sync, you lean toward each other at the same time.

Your lips meet with eager enthusiasm.

^*^*^*^*^

You spin your dagger and slash at the arm of an arms dealer’s lackey, laughing and smirking.

Another day as an Avenger. A slow day, maybe, but another day.

Thor’s back presses against yours. You feel him chuckle in the deep vibrations from his lungs.

“Look at us,” you say. “The two of us, back at it again on the battlefield.”

That brings out a real laugh—that hearty belly laugh you love so much. “Indeed! I could think of nothing more fun!”

“Me neither,” you agree.

“Save it for the honeymoon, Mr. and Mrs. Evergreen,” Sam teases.

“We already did that,” you retort, grabbing a thug by the shoulder and kicking him in the gut down a short flight of stairs.

“I wouldn’t mind another, though,” Thor says playfully.

“Ugh. Definitely save the planning and fantasizing ’til you’re in private,” Sam says.

“But maybe we want to make you uncomfortable,” Thor teases as you swing up onto a henchman’s shoulder, grab his face, and jab your dagger into the soft tissue of his shoulder. With any luck, no one would die on this particular arms bust.

“There are innocent ears on this mission,” Scott remarks.

“Who?” Peter Parker wonders.

“You, small child,” Thor says, linking his arm with yours to pull you out of the way of a bullet and simultaneously throw you at another lackey.

“Hey! I’m not that young!” Spider-Man protests. Laughter echoes across the comms from the rest of the team. Even Barnes chuckles quietly—and he’s been pretty stoic for the last couple months. There’s a crackling of lightning behind you and you narrowly dodge getting zapped.

“Compared to me you are,” Thor says. “I’m fifteen-hundred. You’re fifteen.”

You laugh and pull Thor away from a thug in order to throw your dagger at the thug’s shoulder. With one quick motion the blade is free and you’re receiving a quick kiss from Thor.

“Hey, babe, whaddaya say we take a little vacation once this is over?” You glance over your shoulder at him when you make your suggestion.

“Nothing would make me happier,” Thor says. Lightning shoots down from the sky, lightly zapping a henchman who tried to sneak-attack the two of you. You snicker. Nothing was better than this. Surrounded by friends and family—your team—fighting side-by-side and back-to-back with the love of your life, knowing he was always going to be there for you. Nothing—not even Thanos’ crazy scheme—would ever separate the two of you permanently.

Your bond—no, your love—was too strong for that.

You tilt up onto your tiptoes—you almost swear he’s taller than he was before—and return Thor’s quick kiss with your own. “I love you,” you say, quick and quiet.

He smiles. “I love you too. And we all owe you our lives for getting us back.”

“Thor, I would fight to the ends of the universe as we know it for you and the rest of our family and friends.”

“I know. Without you, all would have been lost.”

You smile. “Well, maybe a little. But I couldn’t just let you cease to exist when you hadn’t finished doing the dishes at our place,” you tease. More laughter crackles with static on the comms.

Thor laughs. “You’re right, of course. How inconsiderate of me.”

“Well, take me on another honeymoon and we’ll call it even.”

“It would be my pleasure.”