#she's a messy child but she's got a good foundation to work off of

[rainintheevening]

For the OC ask game and Aster-Ryn, alone, desire, fear, and midnight?

Okay, let's see if I can do this right this time...

From these asks.

Ooo, some good picks here!

Again, for some context, Aster-Ryn is Obi-Wan’s padawan in my raised-as-a-Sith Anakin AU. She's a Zabrak, and is the same age as Anakin.

alone: How does your OC deal with loneliness? Have they ever been completely alone before? How do they act when there's no one around to see them?

Aster-Ryn is an outgoing extrovert, she gets energy from being around people, and she makes friends easily. Her top love languages are Quality Time and Physical Touch. Growing up in the Temple, she was never truly lonely, as Jedi can keep each other company in the Force. Sometimes though, after an argument with Yajii, Aster-Ryn definitely felt alone. She does need quiet time though, and often takes walks in the terrace gardens and the Hall of a Thousand Fountains. When she's alone, she will either be thinking very seriously about something that recently happened, daydreaming, or singing something.

break: What would cause your OC to break down completely? What do they look like when that happens? Has anyone ever seen them at their lowest?

Doing this one because I already did 'desire'.

Losing Obi-Wan.

She adores him, he's her hero, she thinks he's perfect. She calls him her anchor, keeps her from flying off the handle all the time. To her, the galaxy spins around him. If she had lost him in the first year of the war, she would have fallen to pieces. With the help of others, she would hopefully not fall to the Dark Side, but she would definitely come close. She would run the biggest risk of swinging to the complete opposite of caring about no one, and not letting herself love to avoid feeling that pain again.

She comes close to losing Obi-Wan in the war several times, and through that she also learns to see his weaknesses, that he doesn't know everything, he doesn't get it all right, and he won't always be able to come to save her. But that makes her stronger in the end, both in her ability to love and her ability to let go.

fear: What is your OC's greatest fear? What do they do when confronted with it? Are they open with their fear, or do they hide it away?

Not being enough. Not being able to save someone when they need her. Disappointing Obi-Wan. Not becoming a Jedi Knight by the time she's 18.

As she gets older, she gets better at identifying and dealing with those fears, at doing what she needs to do anyway. The war, and everthing that happens with Vader/Anakin, really puts her through the fire with all those fears, and when it comes down to it, and the pinch, she doesn't Fall, she lets go of those fears when she has to. She trusts Obi-Wan implicitly, and though there's a few years before the war when she's trying to be more independent and cool (which leads to a solid friendship with Depa Bilaba), in the end she always runs to Obi-Wan.

(He's glad she trusts him so much, but sometimes he's afraid of letting her down.)

midnight: What keeps your OC up at night? Do they have nightmares? Fears? Anxieties? What do they do in the small hours of the morning when they should be sleeping?

She sleeps well, most of the time. Not so well the first several months of the war. Sometimes if Obi-Wan is gone, she struggles to fall asleep. She lives with him, and is super used to having him across the room. It isn't easy to sleep when it's too quiet, so then she meditates in the Force until she falls asleep.

Her worst recurring nightmares are the one where all her horns fall out, and the one where she's been kicked out of the Order and she has to get back to her room, but she's naked and Obi-Wan is nowhere to be found and it's awful. The second one she doesn't tell Obi-Wan about until years later, when she can laugh about it.

If she's up early, she usually either meditates, reads something, or slips away to one of the music halls to sing or play a little.

[justrandomfanfictionskh]

Mary Todd pt 17

ao3 Beginning Previous

Marinette had told Artemis, that the only thing they could do, was live their lives until destiny called. But that didn’t mean they had to be idle, so that was what they did. For the three months between Marinette coming to Gotham, and her scheduled departure to Themyscria, they lived their lives to the best of their ability. Jason and the Batclan got to know Marinette and soon it was like she was always there. Using Longg, she often went out with them at night, but she stayed out of the press and away from the big cases.

When the gala came, everyone agreed that the Wayne’s outfits were to die for. And while everyone expected the designer to draw inspiration to the heroes because of her work for the Heroes Gala in Paris, Marinette surprised everyone by paying homage to the city itself. A negative of the distinctive Gotham skyline was embroidered on Bruce’s solid black coat, which faded into golden stars up his back and chest. Tim’s grey marbled suit was patterned after the Wayne Building, and Dick’s dark blue suit flowed and shimmered in a way reminiscent of the river at night. Barbara’s silver and blue gown was perfectly fitted to her wheel chair, and paid homage to her father who escorted her in with a smile. Cass’s black dress swept the floor with a thousand silver stars, and no one knew that the train was detachable. And of course, Damian’s Forest green suite was embroidered with the flowers and animals found in the Botanical Gardens.  

But Jason, Stephanie, and Duke’s suits were her favorite. Taking inspiration from the neighborhoods where they grew up, Marinette made them the most elegant and royal outfits she could in their favorite colors, and then ruined them. She did it artfully and with intention. Ripping the tulle in Stephanie’s skirt, staining the Gold of Duke’s jacket with browns and blacks, and printing newspapers on the lining fabric of Jason’s coat. If anyone less skilled or intentional had attempted it, the work would have looked messy, and they would have ruined three very expensive outfits. But Marinette had done them, in such a way, that at first glance, you didn’t notice anything wrong with their outfits. It was only on closer inspection that you noticed, the patches on Stephanie’s bodice, the rip in Duke’s tie, and the mismatched fabrics of Jason’s jacket.

The press most certainly noticed what she was doing, and they kept her at the front door for at least forty-five minutes demanding answers. Marinette smiled and explained patiently. “I was adopted from Gotham. In fact, when I was a child I lived in Crime Alley, before my parents, who were visiting, found me and took me home. When I took the Wayne’s commission and these three told me their story, I asked for their permission to share our shared experience with the world tonight. They were very happy to agree, and I’m so glad they did…”

She then proceeded to rave about every single charity, legitimate adoption agency, and foundation available, until Roy, in a more understated but still fabulous suit she had made for him, pulled her into the ballroom. He laughed as he checked his phone when a notification went off. “Looks like you started another internet war.”

“What?” Marinette said as she snatched a champagne flute. She looked over his shoulder.

“Apparently,” he said, “Revealing that you were originally from here has Gotham and Paris fighting over you.”

Marinette laughed and shook her head as she selected one of the tweets. “‘I can’t believe,’” she read, “‘There’s a black-haired, blue-eyed orphan from Crime Alley that Brucie Wayne hasn’t adopted. Someone make sure he doesn’t try to get her by marriage! #whippedGothamboytoy and #badassParischick for life!’ Oh kwami! People are ridiculous!”

Roy chuckled as he put his phone away. “I just can’t believe that hashtag is still trending. Oliver hasn’t shut up about it.”

“How’s that going by the way?” she asked gently.

“It’s good,” he admitted. “But I don’t want to talk about that right now. If you don’t mind, I think I can see the d’oeurve table, and I want to drown myself in it. Care to join me?”

Marinette and shook her head as they moved toward the table. “Always…thanks for coming with me by the way.”

“Hey, it was my honor,” Roy said gently, “Besides what kind of whipped Gotham boytoy would I be if I didn’t escort my bad ass Paris girlfriend to her boring work functions.”

Marinette giggled, as she leaned on him, “Well next date night, you get to pick where we go.”

“So, it’s official then!”

“Zatanna!” Marinette cried as she embraced her friend. “I didn’t know you were going to be here!”

“Yeah well,” the Sorceress said flicking her hair, “Thought I’d crash the party see how my favorite power couple was doing. You’d be amazed the places I can get into with a snap of my fingers. And how are you, Roy?”

“I’m good Z, you?”

“Thriving, mind if I borrow your date for a second?”

“Only if you point me to Jason and/or the bar. I refused to be cornered by the vultures.”

Zatanna complied, and then she and Marinette vanished into the crowd. Roy smiled after them and then, with the skill he’d been honing since his early teens, promptly faded into the background of the party. He made his way to the bar where Jason had predictably latched himself.

“If Marinette comes and asks for a wine, then I’m going to have some severe déjà vu,” Roy said as he ordered a glass of brandy.

“I thought you we agreed you two weren’t going to flirt in front of me!” Jason groaned. “It’s disgusting.”

“It’s not my fault, your sister drives me crazy, and that you’re an overprotective jackass.”

Jason muttered into his glass, and Roy laughed as he leaned back to watch the dancers. In the end it was Jason who broke their easy silence. “Has she talked to you yet? About the whole Paris, Executioner, Arbiter, thing?”

Roy sipped his drink and nodded, “We have. She was very insistent on it. Said it was important.”

“It is important,” Jason said.

“Do you believe you’re the Executioner?”

Jason sighed and knocked back the last of his drink, he ordered another one and then lead them into a secluded corner of the party where they could talk a bit more openly. “I don’t know,” Jason said running a hand through his hair. “I thought I was. When Marinette first explained it, it sounded…right. It would make this whole mess make sense.”

“But…” Roy prompted.

Jason shook his head as he sipped his drink. “Whenever I think of leaving Gotham, even if I’m leaving with her, it doesn’t feel right. I…I tried leaving this place. There have been moments, on missions, with the League of Assassins when I thought, yeah, I could be happy outside of Gotham. But then…”

 Roy waited for Jason to get his words. Jason raised a hand and touched the lining of his jacket. A slight smile tugged at his lips. Marinette had shone him the articles she had printed there. It was a clipping of Jason’s debut. The head line had read, “Robin cusses out the Penguin!” and Jason had laughed when he saw it.

“This city,” the antihero said calmly, “It’s a part of me. I don’t know if I can be what she needs me to be. I’m too…broken.”

“We’re all broken Jay,” Roy said, hand on his shoulder. “And Mari will always need you, even if you’re not some divinely appointed warrior sent to protect her.”

Jason scoffed into his glass as he shook his head, “Shut up, before I have to say something rude to keep my reputation.”

“What reputation?” Roy scoffed.

--------------

“It’s coming,” Zatanna asked quietly. She and Marinette had hidden themselves in a dark hallway away from the party. “Can you feel it?”

Marinette sighed and opened her bag. Plagg and Tikki flew out and greeted the Sorceress Supreme with uncharacteristically somber moods. Zatanna’s eyes bulged at being in the presence of the two most powerful beings in the multiverse. She turned to Marinette and hissed, “Are you wearing both of them?”

Marinette sighed and nodded as she removed her evening glove to show the slender rose gold ring in her finger. “The city’s energies have been swirling for weeks,” she said calmly, “I think Jay-Jay knows somethings up. Roy definitely does. I might have rushed things a bit in order to spend more time with him.”

“You’re going to take the mantel yourself,” Zatanna said somberly.

“I can’t take Roy from Lian,” Marinette said shaking her head, “And I can’t do this to Jay-Jay. His personal balance is too precarious, and I’m running out of time.”

“Do you know when it will happen?”

“I was going to say tomorrow, but I guess that’s wishful thinking.”

“Why do you say that?” Zatanna asked, and Marinette looked away. There was so much pain and exhaustion in her eyes that Zatanna wanted to wrap her up in the biggest hug, but she refrained as the two small gods floated up in between them.

“Because you are here,” Plagg said sadly.

“What?” Zatanna asked startled.

“Sorceress,” Tikki said, “You have been called by the universe to bear witness on behalf of the magics to the ascension of the Executioner, and the completion of the three. Tonight the Keepers shall be made whole, and we of the divine energies of the world might finally be permitted to act and restore balance to the world.”

Zatanna drew in a long breath as Marinette dapped at her eyes in an attempt to preserve her makeup. Zatanna closed her eyes and centered herself. Her friend needed her. She cursed; Marinette shouldn’t have to go through this. She had already given so much to save the world; she shouldn’t have to give more. Zatanna felt like a little girl again, watching her father taking the Helmet of Fate. It had taken years to get him back. Would something like that happen to Marinette? Would Jason and Roy have to fight tooth and nail just to get one hour a year with her.

Zatanna shook herself. This was not helping. She centered herself again and opened her eyes. “What are you going to do?”

Marinette sighed and said, “What I’ve always done…I’ll do what the universe demands of me and pray that it’s enough.”

Zatanna nodded and pulled her into an embrace. “I’ll help,” she whispered. How long they stayed like that, neither of them could say. But they only broke apart when the sound of glass shattering and screams echoed from the gala. The pull of the universe tugged at the hearts of the two most powerful magic users in the world. And so, Zatanna stepped to the side and bore witness.

There are three Keepers of Balance. The Guardian who protects the Miraculous, the physical tethers for the embodiment of the Universe’s divine energies. When the Keepers are called, the Guardian gives the Miraculous away to those who are worthy, and who are in need. But of all the miraculous given, two are reserved for the other Keepers, and none others. The Miraculous of Creation, which is given to the Arbiter, the one who passes judgment. And the Miraculous od Destruction, which is given to the Executioner, the one who sees that judgment done.

Others might wear and use the miraculous, should the need arise, but on the Keepers may use them to fulfill their divine purpose. Only the Arbiter could use the Ladybug to pass judgment. Only the Execution could use the Cat to fulfill justice.

So, Marinette closed her eyes and called upon the magics. The kwami nodded their respect to Zatanna and went to their Keeper’s will. But even as they were drawn into the jewels, they could not help but smile. In a way, they had always known it would come to this. Ever since that final fight with Hawkmoth. Their chosen just needed time before she caught up to destiny. Time and a reason.

--------------------

Jason fell to the ground as soon as he saw the large windows shatter. Goons dressed as clowns carrying everything from tommy guns to bats with nails swung in and quickly surrounded the guests. Jason scanned the crowd and cursed. Bruce was in the middle of the floor with Cass. Tim and Steph were right beside them. Barbara and Dick were with the Commissioner. Duke and Damian were in the middle of a group of socialites who had decided to cling to them. Damian looked like he was about to stab one of them, which was fair, but now wasn’t the time for that.

It looked like he and Roy were the only ones in a position to sneak away, but he wasn’t going to leave until he saw Mari. Roy had said that she had disappeared with Zatanna, so she was undoubtedly safe, but they were no where to be seen in the ballroom.

“Come on,” Roy hissed, and they started to rise in an attempt to make it to one of the nearby exits. But then the main doors burst open in a rocking explosion.

In walked the Joker. He wore a brand-new eggplant purple and line green suit. People screamed as he tossed his fedora at a nearby goon, revealing his stretched and twisted smile.

“What’s this! A party? But where are the balloons? The cake? The party games? Old Brucie! Did you even think to hire a clown?” Joker cried as he sauntered into the middle of the dance floor. The crowd parted before him like the red sea. Only Bruce stood in his way. His face twisted in the fear of his “Brucie” persona, but the hand he used to shield Cassandra was steady. And stood tall and firm, as he stared down the worst villain in Gotham.

“Joker,” Bruce said, allowing a single quiver of his voice. “I’m assuming you want a check?”

“Half right there, old Brucie, old pal!” The Joker sang as he lightly tapped Bruce’s cheek. Jason felt himself growl, and green began to creep into the edges of his vision. That was his father, and the man who had killed him. There was no way in hell, he was letting the Joker get in between them again. Not now, after they had worked so hard to finally get to a place where they could actually talk to each other.

Someone tried to pull Jason out of the room, but he was rooted to the spot as the Joker continued his taunting. “I want every diamond, every ruby, and every gold encrusted bobble in this joint. Laughter ain’t cheap folks, so fork it over or you all get sprayed! But! Before I leave, there’s one more thing I need to see.”

“Whatever it is,” Bruce said as calmly as he could while a goon with a bag began walking around. “I’m sure we can come to an understanding.”

“Yes, I’m sure we could!” Joker sneered, “You see…there’s a rumor floating around Arkham. A rumor of a little China chick, who likes to judge others? Specifically, their fashion. I hear Gotham’s practically in love with her, and their all dying to have her judge them. So, come on Brucie! I’m here to get with the trends! Where is she? I want to be judged! I really, truly want to know what she thinks of me!”  

The Joker’s smile practically doubled, as Bruce’s face paled. And if Jason had been in his right mind, he would have been able to guess the cause. However, the moment the Joker had mentioned Marinette, Jason’s vision went pure green, and he began to stalk towards the Joker. Someone was trying to keep him back, and he went to break their hand.

“So, you wish to be judged!” A voice echoed through the assembly.

Jason blinked as the green vanished. He froze and saw that the wrist he was holding was Roy’s. He was about to break Roy’s hand. Roy, however, didn’t seem to be paying attention anymore. His face had gone a deathly pale, but he wasn’t looking at Jason, or even the Joker. Instead, he was staring up at the ceiling, his face twisted in regret and awe. Jason spun and followed his gaze, and his heart sunk even as it soared in wonder. The Joker had called for Marinette’s judgment, and she was here to give it.

Descending from the skylight like an Old Testament angle, A masked warrior dressed all in black stared at the Joker with blue cat eyes that glowed with a fire brighter than the chandeliers that she was among. Her solid black breast plate faded into an emerald green at her arms until it looked as if her hands had been dipped in poison. Her billowing black skirt faded to red until it looked as if she had been wading through blood. She flew on four wings eagle wings. The two that came from her shoulders were a shimmering red as if they were encrusted with rubies. The two that came from her back were green and were like emeralds. Her ebony black hair fell to her waist, but some unseen wind was blowing it about her so that the golden tips resembled a glowing crown about her head.

She was beautiful, wonderful, and terrible all at once. But Jason knew, despite the golden mask covering half of her face, it was Marinette. He didn’t know what had happened to her, but he could guess. Just as he could guess what was about to happen. He wanted to scream. He wanted to run to her, tell her that this was his place. He wanted to stop her…But he couldn’t.

Something rooted him to the floor, and he couldn’t move. And even as he watched in shame and horror, he also watched in pride and wonder. Because that was his sister. That powerful being coming to bring, just a little more peace to Gotham, their home, was his sister. And he couldn’t have been prouder. So, he stayed exactly where he was. He didn’t fight the force holding him back, even as he blinked back tears.

“Joker,” The Keeper declared in that echoing voice that filled the innocents with hope and sent the guilty trembling, “You have asked to be judged, and so I judge you. I judge you guilty. I judge you evil. I judge you a threat against the natural forces that govern this world. I judge that you have destabilized the balance between Order and Chaos, and have turned the world towards evil. You have polluted the rivers of chaos and distorted the natural ley lines.

“I judge you disserving of Justice. And so as Keeper of the Balance, justice shall be met.”

With the last line, the Keeper drew the sword at her waist. The ruby hilt was graceful and elegant, but the emerald blade was twisted and cruel. A slender line of gold ran down the center of both, and caused the sword to glow with the same light of her eyes, dimming the rest of the world with it.

The Joker didn’t even have time to open his mouth before his neck met the blade. There was utter and complete silence as the body slowly fell to its knees in a final act of respect before the Lady, and then fell to the ground. Jason expected the head to role off, but it did not. Instead the Joker just lay on his side, and not even his ghastly makeup could hide the look of pure terror on his face.

“So it is done,” the Keeper said, and she flew away.

For exactly five minutes, no one, not even the goons, moved. Then someone screamed, and the ballroom erupted into chaos. The goons ran out the way they had come. Gordon was on his phone, as the Wayne’s disappeared to get changed. Jason flinched when a gentle hand was placed on his shoulder. He spun and saw Zatanna, her face firm and unyielding.

“Come,” she said quietly, “We have to bring her back.”

---------

Roy was shaking. Zatanna had teleported them to the top of Wayne Tower, and it was freezing. But that didn’t matter. They had to find Marinette, and as Zatanna explained the more his panic grew.

“Did she know that could happen?” Jason asked as they scanned the night sky for two pairs of glowing wings.

Zatanna nodded as she worked on a spell meant to draw her to them. “It’s one of the reasons the Keepers are traditionally three. Acting on the will of both Creation and Destruction is…seductive. Imagine doing the thing you were always meant to be doing, you’re whole life, and then having every single barrier removed. If we don’t act quickly, she could lose herself in that state forever.”

“But why?” Jason demanded, “Why did the Universe bring her to us, if we were never meant to help her?”

“You are meant to help her!” Zatanna shouted, “Just not in the way you guessed. Right now what Marinette needs is an anchor, not a protector. So, one of you…anchor her!”

“How?” both men shouted at once.

“We don’t even know where she is?” Roy shouted.

“Where who is?”

Roy jumped and spun to see Marinette floating off the side of the building. She lazily rose up and down with the beat of her wings. Her inky black armored dress blended almost unnaturally with the night sky, making the glow of her eyes and the tips of her hair only that much more luminous in contrast. She stared at them with an innocence that belied the power she radiated, but it didn’t matter. Because she was there, and she was beautiful.

“Mari!” Jason cried rushing forward, as Zatanna approached more cautiously. “Can…can you come down please!”

“Why?” The Keeper asked with that same questing innocence, like a child who couldn’t understand why climbing on the furniture was dangerous.

“Because its dangerous!” Jason cried gesturing to the thousand foot drop beneath where she lazily went up and down, up and down with the beat of her powerful wings.

The Keeper smirked and say, “Silly Jay-Jay. Nothing can harm me! I am one of the forces of nature. I cast a magic spell and make everything better. I hurt those who hurt. I help those in need. I give mercy. I give justice. There is nothing you every need to protect me from again.”

Jason looked like he was about to choke on his tongue. He was so desperate, he couldn’t lose her again. But before he could say anything else. Zatanna stepped forward and said, “Marinette you need to come back. You need to train with Hippolyta. You need…”

Marinette giggled and shook her head. “The universe is guiding me. I am beyond Hippolyta. There is nothing she can teach me. Besides, what I need doesn’t matter. I serve the needs of the world now.” She looked out at the Gotham skyline, the city lights turning the smog into a golden hue. She looked so blissfully happy it was heart breaking. “It’s amazing,” she whispered, “To be so needed. To be able to help so many. I cast a magic spell and make everything better. It’s amazing!”

“But—" Jason started.

“I have to go know,” She said twisting in the air.

“But Mari—"

“The world needs me. Goodbye.”

“But so do I!”

Marinette froze in the sky, as everyone turned to look at Roy. Roy ignored them and took a breath stepping to practically lean over the railing guarding the edge. “Marinette,” Roy said desperately. Praying that his longing and panic seeped into his ever words. “Marinette, I need you to stay. Lian…she still has a lot to learn from you.”

“I can’t stay Roy,” the Keeper whispered, but the wind carried her voice anyway.

“I know,” Roy said, “And I’m not asking for forever. I’m not even asking for tomorrow. But please, just right now. Can you give us right now? That’s all we need.”

For a moment no one moved. There was not a sound on the roof top aside from the swish of the wind, and the beat of her wings. Finally, slowly and gently, the three moved back to give Marinette space in the roof beside them. She dropped her transformation and promptly collapsed into Roy’s waiting arms. Jason rushed forward and clung to his sister. Tears fell down her face at the loss of her power, and the kwami cuddled into her neck and cheek, as she struggled to become mortal once again.

Roy just sat back as he breathed a sigh of relief. It was done. For now. It was done, and Marinette was ok.

Next

@laurcad123 @craftgremlin @toodaloo-kangaroo @blackroserelina @maanae @kitsun369 @idkamt @aksartisticlife @its-maemain @iglowinggemma28 @officiallydarkgeek @meira-3919 @crazylittlemunchkin  @read-fantasy-to-escape-reality @raven-ette

[chattycups]

i'm DEEP in sims brain rot && i've mostly been going back and forth btwn this legacy challenge (which has been SO fun so far) and my other current playthrough, which has NP characters ... mostly clowns but some others, too !! and I just wanna ramble about all of that in this post sksks.

so this is Gen 1, designed by my kid who also loves the Sims! lmao I was too indecisive to decide what they looked like, so I left it to them, and they designed a family called the 'Parkinsons'. Liam and Macy are two young parents, very young adults (2 alt kids who had an oopsie baby, named Isabela.) young mother Macy being a scene kid:

I've been playing Macy's life mostly so far and my god has it been a wild, WILD ride. she had a absolutely BONKERS, very toxic and messy relationship with Darren Charm, and an on-and-off best friendship/flirtationship/occasionally enemies-ship with Vanessa Jeong. and when I completed the rule of her having a second child with Liam... she got pregnant with twins lmao. SO THAT WAS A LOT. She's currently at the end tail of her 'Adult' stage, so I'm very excited to see who catches her eye at the farmer's market!! That's the last of her story that I need to check off. Currently, we're at the stage where Isabela has finally entered adulthood and is working on the Rules for Generation 2...

... andddddd as I'm writing this, Marcy just got abducted by aliens. SIGH. anyway, Isabela is a very responsible child who ended up having to help her mom raise her two twin brothers, Mariano and Lucius (now teenagers) quite a lot: because two twin babies was quite a tall order for a single mom with two jobs. Isabela also worked at the local burger joint through high school to help her mom pay the bills. They have pretty much always been scraping by on their last dollar, and it's only because Isabela is into her adulthood and starting to build her career that they are slowlyyyy amassing a savings so Isabela can get them that house <3 once Isabela becomes an adult, I'm going to bring Liam back into their life and also play him more often, so we'll see what he gets up to... I'm excited to do so because it seems like his sim has pretty much stagnated post-divorce and done very little with his life ngl akdjjj. BUT THE ELDER ERA IS GONNA BE HIS TIME!!! I will make it so, lmao. and a few screenshots from my nopixel sim playthru below !!

i tried my best to make a biblically accurate chattercups...

except I added a little bit of freckles to Ray because they just feel right asjajaj (my headcanon is she has them but you can't usually tell because of her foundation x3) also her eyes look greyer in the game screen, less blue... hMMM. maybe I need to tweak them idk lol. & I went with bandanabox because the clown face paint is too ugly and there's no good masks i've found yet... but having him just BARE FACED OUT IN THE WORLD feels illegal and wrong so 'pigeon!box' it is.

SELFIES IN THE BACKGROUND they're cute >3<

pigeonbox feelin' himself while Max pretends not to know him and maskless-but-with-green-hair Twinkles (it was the only way i could get him to look half-decent in sims LOOL) looks at him like he's lost his damn mind

Tessa and Chatty making a snowman!! >w< ( wild Kirk sighting in the background )

Ray and Sooty selfies

Wendy becoming best friends with Death

Twinkles and Tweetie on a date??!

Chatty playing dolls ffffffljasndj Wendy would be so jealous...

cladies at the pool ( ember, sooty, ray ) with a twinkles in the background and a small snippet of eli lmao

I need to remember to take more screenshots bc there's a lot of interesting tea & unexpected dynamics around town but I never remember to capture it ffff.

[sadculturee]

AINUN'S FILM REVIEW

THE MARVELS

Ratings: 6/10

Rating an MCU film, especially one with some of my favorite characters, a 6 felt personally painful to me. I didn’t have grand expectations coming into the theaters, knowing how poorly Marvel had executed their 4th phase, but 30 minutes in I knew I had to make my peace with the fact that “The Marvels” was simply badly written and poorly executed. An opinion that remains standing until the very end of the story. Iman Vellani aka Ms Marvel was the only good thing about the whole film, she delivered her character with her own unique pizzazz. Ms Marvel was a joy to watch and I truly hope to see her more in future MCU projects. 

Disclaimer: Minor spoiler alert and a sort of brutally honest rant from a Captain Marvel fan.

My first “umm?” moments came really early in the film, just when they were building up the story background. Our heroes were forcefully intertwined with each other, resulting in them having to overcome their differences and work out their powers in synergy. Watching this from an MCU-fan point of view, someone who has watched nearly all of MCU films/shows, I really did not get the tension they were trying to establish. I was still trying to grasp what was going on when the fight scenes and body swaps started.

I understand that they were trying to make it vague and mysterious for a “grand reveal” right before the climax, but it didn’t exactly do what it was supposed to. All it felt was: chaotic, incoherent, rushed in some parts yet too dragged down in others. I felt bamboozled by the constant light blasts and awkward attempts at comedy relief, not able to savor and enjoy any part of it. The music and soundtracks even felt weird, out-of-place and forced. It adds nothing to the story or the characters. 

There’s honestly not much to say about “The Marvels”. Random droppings of fan-favorite characters and a tease of a couple highly anticipated future projects were supposed to be a nice bonus on the side, not the sole highlight of the story (at least for me). Cameos and easter eggs used to be nice little bonuses fans got, but this time it's the only good thing we got.

I wished they raveled more about Carol and Monica’s relationship, instead of having them say a few emotionless lines, non-consensual memory evasion and then hug it out in a Disney fashion. This devoids all emotion and empathy from the audience, shrugging off the issue as meaningless, and the characters as hollow. The same case with Carol's relationship with Prince Yan, I imagine, was written as an attempt to add dimension to her character, to provide a human sense to her all-mighty powers. It felt more like a filler plot that adds nothing of value to the story. This, combined with the messy pacing, made the film even worse. 

I wish Carol showed more compassion for the people around her, actually thinking about what she’s doing and the impacts of her actions. A bare minimum quality ANY heroes should inhibit. Her initial reaction upon meeting Kamala for the first time felt out of character. I understand heroes have to make hard decisions during a crisis, but snapping at a literal child who simply wants to save people gave me the ick. It felt wrong in so many ways. And this is coming from a (self-proclaimed) hard-core Captain Marvel defender. These micro-interactions of her with Kamala felt like a complete butchery of her character for me. SOUNDS EXTREME I KNOW, but I’m actually pissed. This is not the Captain Marvel they introduced to us in 2019. This is not the badass superhero I fell in love with and rooted for. 

Iman Vellani's love and respect for her character and the original source materials (the comics) truly shows. Even with a bad script, a story struggling to build a clear foundation and failing to deliver a coherent climax, she managed to be the only main character who made the movie watchable. 

To sum up, did "The Marvels" deliver an enjoyable experience? To some extent, yes. Would I recommend this film to people who haven't seen it yet? No, even if you're curious, just wait until it's Disney+ release, it's not worth your money. If you're intrigued by the main characters, I implore you to watch "Ms Marvel" instead. It's unlike any other superhero series Marvel has ever done, so do not expect it to be in the same format as the superhero stories you grew up with, but it is really good. It explores Kamala Khan's origin story, her struggle with being a Muslim, brown, 1st generation immigrant teenager with reasonably high expectations from her parents and her new-found superpowers.  She's not depicted as the perfect, mighty hero we're accustomed to, and her flaws were actual flaws and not some weird exaggerations I’ve seen in others (for example: Loki/Sylvie Season 1) which makes her all the more interesting. Despite her weaknesses and teenage clumsiness, she always tried her best to help. Which, in the grand scale of things, is the core essence of being a hero. It felt personal and relatable. Like I’m living through her adventures.

PS: there's one after-credit clip you'd regret to miss, so stay put in your seat.

[cute-little-fly]

Those takes are so bad intended, and I am so tired about the comparisons with Bojack. The shows are pretty different, and Stolas doesn’t do anything close as the awful things Bojack does… Bojack tried to hook up with a minor, drugged a co-star he work with as a child and made her addiction worse etc… I am forgetting a lot of things but he basically damages all what he touches. Bojack can be very relatable and all, but he deserved all what he got.

Stolas acted inappropriate with Blitz and Via and he was unaware of how his classism and deal hurt Blitzø a lot, but that’s about it. It doesn’t even compare to the shit Bojack does, and also, Bojack is more rooted in our society’s illnesses. The intended arc for all this characters in their stories is completely different.

I would add to this response critique, that Helluva similar to Hazbin has also themes of redemption and question and change of power structures.

Charlie wants to redeem sinners and change heaven and how they don’t want people to redeem. Not all sinners will earn redemption, but let the ones that want to try to earn it and save themselves. Or change the system entirely for that to be the objective.

Blitzø is a guy that challenges hell power structures and hierarchy, that ended being an asshole because of his trauma, but that is healing, and his assholery is more a façade. He has healed also other people around him, by building a foundation family business and with Stolas redemption and healing they will touch upon how two people that grew in the polar opposites of power structures can find a middle ground. One comes from the top, other from the bottom and they both made history. Could they have the potential to change things? Who knows, but the show could end with some sort of revolution inspired in them. Mastermind seems to tease that.

On the other hand, Bojack is a guy that worked on a tv famous program, never wanted to do anything besides having success. His success and child traumas lead to drugs and other things that made him a bad person to others. He was given lots of opportunities to change, and started lots of relationships that he messed up and he wasn’t able to really change at the end, only in jail but he had no drugs… So, people cut him off even if for some of them it was painful, because they needed to protect themselves from him because the guy is an actual danger. Even if he is traumatized at all, people will end up hurt with him (is funny that Blitzø is the opposite, he thought he hurt people, but he actually made them better by being with them). If anything, Blitzø and Bojack are the opposite. Stolas is similar in the sense that he unawarely hurts people but he is taking accountability of what he did, even if less severe and starting an arc of unlearning his classism. Something that Bojack never did.

It’s a completely different story, but is also a drama show similar to this one so the inspiration is there but the characters, themes and setting is just completely different. Like, it would be worse if Viv just straight up copied Bojack in everything, don’t you think? She was inspired by a good drama show and she made her own, but about people that really want to change and redeem themselves, and trully work in that direction. That is valid.

Some people change, and some other don’t. Both takes are very realistic. When people don’t change the only way is cut them off. When people do change you can forgive them or reconnect with them if you want to. We all make mistakes.

In the case of Stolas and Via there are a lot of communication issues and misunderstandings between them. What Stolas was basically giving Blitzø the Grimoire and fail his promises and some important responsibilities as a father because of his depression and messy love life. It is not that it isn’t bad, but those are mistakes that can still be mended.

People say: she didn’t understood Bojack and I say to you: you are the one that don’t understand helluva because you don’t want to or is not a message you like and that’s fine.

Crushbot: This feels less like a good-faith critique and more like someone searching for a reason to hate Vivziepop and her work. The parallels between Helluva Boss and Bojack Horseman are there, sure—but reducing Stolas’s arc to a “can I copy your homework?” moment reeks of a desperate attempt to discredit the show rather than actually engaging with what it’s doing.

Parallels, Sure—But Context Matters

Let’s talk about the alleged similarities. Yes, Stolas being hated by the imps after his banishment could look like Bojack being “cancelled.” Both happen after courtroom scenes. Both involve estrangement from a younger female family member (Octavia for Stolas, Hollyhock for Bojack). That’s where the similarities end, and pretending otherwise ignores the wildly different purposes these arcs serve.

Bojack vs. Stolas

Bojack’s arc is about personal accountability and the destruction he leaves in his wake. His estrangement from Hollyhock is well-earned; she discovers the ways he’s manipulated and harmed others, and she rightfully cuts him off. The public backlash against Bojack is a direct response to his moral failings, forcing him to sit with the consequences of his actions.

Stolas, on the other hand, is being punished specifically for lending Blitz his grimoire, an illegal act that threatens the power structures of Hell. The characters in power (the Sins and the Goetia) care far more about this rule-breaking and his vague proclamation of being the "mastermind" behind some heinous plot than about his personal failings—cheating on Stella or neglecting Octavia emotionally. And they certainly don’t care about his classism or his (unintentionally) demeaning attitude towards imps.

Stolas’s punishment in Mastermind reflects Hell’s oppressive hierarchy and its misplaced priorities, rather than serving as a reckoning with his true faults. Comparing these two situations as if they’re identical flattens both narratives, ignoring the distinct ways each show explores power, accountability, and personal flaws.

The Martyr Argument

The claim that Stolas is treated like a martyr and excused for his actions is laughable. Stolas is flawed; the show never pretends otherwise. We’ve seen him struggle with his poor decisions and their consequences—particularly with Octavia. But his punishment in Mastermind isn’t about absolving him; it’s about highlighting the misdirected anger of an oppressive system.

This misdirected anger mirrors the real-world reactions of oppressed groups, who often lash out at convenient but less culpable targets when they feel powerless to confront the true source of their suffering. The hatred Stolas faces from the imp community doesn’t stem from his personal failings—it stems from the deep, systemic inequities of Hell's hierarchy, a system Stolas has long benefited from. 

The idea that Vivziepop thinks Stolas is “blameless” feels like an intentional misreading. Stolas is far from perfect, but his arc is about redemption and growth, not victimhood. If anything, the animosity he faces underscores the show’s broader themes of power dynamics and societal injustice, emphasizing how oppressive systems perpetuate cycles of blame and resentment.

“Can I Copy Your Homework?”—Lazy Critique

Sure, you can find surface-level similarities between Helluva Boss and Bojack Horseman, but that doesn’t make one a copy of the other. The thematic goals are wildly different:

Bojack Horseman is a deeply introspective, human story about accountability and the lasting damage of selfishness.

Helluva Boss is a surreal, melodramatic exploration of power, marginalization, and complicated relationships within a hellish hierarchy.

If anything, the similarities between the two are evidence of Helluva Boss drawing from familiar storytelling beats to craft something uniquely its own. Accusing it of plagiarism or lazy writing misses the point entirely. Stolas’s arc is tailored to Helluva Boss’s world—a chaotic, exaggerated, and deeply emotional sandbox that doesn’t care about “grounded realism” in the same way Bojack Horseman does.

The Real Issue

Let’s be honest: critiques like this aren’t really about writing quality or thematic depth. They’re about taking perverse joy in tearing Vivziepop down. It’s less about legitimate criticism and more about manufacturing outrage. It’s exhausting.

The truth is, Helluva Boss does what it sets out to do: deliver a visually stunning, emotionally resonant, and often absurd story in a way that resonates with its audience. If some people are so hung up on surface-level comparisons that they can’t see that, maybe they’re not the intended audience—and that’s fine. But let’s not pretend their bad-faith critiques hold any weight.

[fablesofkitkat]

pov: how you met Aizawa as Eri's teacher

tags: @vtte [AN: who's up for Aizawa tags?]

You call the shots babe, I just wanna be yours

- Arctic Monkeys

---

Padma Musutafu Center

June 24, 2022 at 6:41 pm

The familiar tone that resembled like a bell from your phone notified you with the incoming message. You rub a hand on the back of your neck, popping the stiffness away.

You open your phone and sure enough you read a request.

You replied with,

"Hello, sir. We could do the Diagnostic testing on Monday. Please confirm if you are okay on Monday, June 27 at 11am. If yes, please message your child's name, age grade, and subject you want him or her assessed."

"Eri with kanji: break & logic. 6 yrs old. 1st grade. Reading."

"Last name?"

"... Aizawa."

You schedule the appointment and forwarded it to Mr. Aizawa.

"See you on Monday in our center, sir. Please don't forget to come on time and to bring a pair of socks for you and Eri to wear."

---

You tie your into a halfup ponytail just as a kid was ushered in the classroom. She had bluish, off-white hair, messy and unkempt, which parted in the middle of her forehead. The little girl sat down and you began the diagnostic testing.

From the start, you had a struggle because Eri didn't know how to write her own name as well as how to read the time. She was also very shy and a bit fearful, widened eyes at your every movement.

You patiently  give her your instructions and by the time the test was over she got  15 out of 70 in reading. It was alarming. You slide over some wooden number blocks to Eri.

"Hey, will you help me with this? Teacher needs the number to be in order starting from one up to a hundred. Will you help me?"

The girl nods at you and you walk over to the parent, the father you assumed, who wore a black suit and his hair well-groomed, held back in a low bun at the base of his neck. You took little time to admire him and got down to work. He was sitting by the parent observation table the teachers placed at the back of the classroom.

"Mr. Aizawa?" You queried.

He looks up in attention. You sit down infront of him and slide Eri's test paper on the table for him to see. "This is Eri's results for Reading. You said she's an incoming 1st grader?"

"Yes." He nods gravely. "She is."

"We give 10 minutes for diagnostic tests and in that window, 14 of her answers are correct which is good. However, it does take her over a minute to recognize each kanji."

"I'm sorry for that." He bows his head to you.

You wave your hands to stop him. "No need for that, Mr. Aizawa. With the diagnosis, Eri would have to start at the very foundation." You rest your hands on top of Eri's test paper. "But I would like cooperation with you, Mr. Aizawa. If you decided to enroll Eri here in Padma, I need us to be in a partnership. I need you to guide her well at home."

Partnership. The word has been said to countless parents since you started teaching but this time, the word made you strangely shy for no reason.

His eyes crinkles as he smiled. "I'm a teacher as well. I am confident."

You flushed. "I see. So you probably know about the whole spiel."

He shook his head kindly. "I teach high schoolers. Grade schoolers are another level. Please educate me."

"..." Surely not.

He quirks a brow. Almost imperceptible.

You cleared your throat. "So, tutoring here will only have twice a week meeting but homework is everyday." You struggle to keep the eye contact so you look away for a second and then resumed. "We're going to build Eri's habit of doing homework everyday, let her choose a specific time to do it and try to maintain that schedule. I swear she will carry the habit as she grows up."

"I see." He sighs dejectedly. "We're really worried about her education since she... started late."

"Don't worry about it, Mr. Aizawa!" You try to reassure him with a smile. "There are many cases like Eri and give her a few months, I'm sure she'll catch up." You stare into his eyes fighting the urge to look away. Eye contact. Be polite. "I also need you to understand that Eri's progress isn't instant so as much as possible, we'd like for you to commit Eri here for at least a year, before we let her go." And then, you added. "Though, alot of Padma students kept going even after a year."

Aizawa thumbs the Eri's test paper thoughtfully. His eyes flickers back to you. "You don't need to worry about that. I'm fully committed."

You look away for the umpteenth time and then wrenched your gaze back to him. "If you want to enroll right now, we can provide you the enrollment papers and have her start her first day."

---

"Would you like to observe for the 2nd day?" You peered through the door as you glanced upon Eri's dad.

"Is it a bother?"

You shook your head. "Not at all. This is the last time though. We need Eri to find her independence from you so she could be confident." Walking to Eri's table, you eyed Aizawa making his way to the same table he took the other day. You noted he was wearing matching socks with Eri with neko embroidery. Adorable.

He smiles and waves his hand, and you watch Eri's reaction to which she glumly waved back.

"Eri, we're going to practice your strokes okay?" You point a finger to the exercise book. "Follow the strokes for each word." The little girl gripped her pencil too hard and you tap her softly. "Hold it gently, Eri. There you go."

You heard a shutter sound and looked up to Aizawa, holding his phone up. "I'm sorry."

You shook your head. Parents would sneakily take pictures all the time. You resumed the instructions for Eri. "This time, there's no more guide for the strokes but you still remember how to do them right? You're very smart." The kid beamed at you, reminding you of reasons why you love being a teacher.

---

You slide Eri's first quiz result. "Perfect. She's a fast learner."

"Time to celebrate?" Aizawa scooped Eri in his arms and then reached out for her quiz paper. He reads over your little note for Eri, and his lips quirked into a smile.

You were about to head inside the classroom once more when Eri grabbed your arm to stop you and then whispered to her dad.

He slowly nods and your heart started pounding hard.

"Would you like to have some afternoon snacks with us? Eri and I will wait for you."

---

AN: jddnxindjxnxon i hate migraines. y'all getting to comfy with my absence, how dare you. not my best but who cares, I'll give y'all terrible povs.

[sariahsue]

I'd love to know what movies get wrong about orphanages if you wouldn't mind sharing!

Oh, I'm so glad you asked!

So imagine all the movies with orphanages in them: Annie, Despicable Me, Meet the Robinsons*, Stuart Little, etc. The narrative goes like this. A bunch of poor orphans live in a home run by usually one person. When prospective parents come to visit, the children eagerly all line up, hoping to get picked! So exciting! The parents find the child they want, fill out a bunch of paperwork, and go home with their new child. There may be a couple bumps as everyone gets used to the new family dynamic, but they work themselves out by the end of the movie. Happily ever after!

Literally every single thing about that scenario is wildly incorrect. First off, and this comes as a surprise to most people, there aren't any orphanages in the United States. None.

Not many kids are orphaned these days thankfully, and if they are, there’s usually extended family or other arrangements previously made by the parents (like through their wills or godparents). If there’s truly no one that can take the kid, they’d be put into foster care and given an adoption worker along with their normal social worker.

The closest thing we have to orphanages are probably residential programs and group homes (which are basically a step down from residential and in a house with a smaller group of kids). I say they’re similar because they look it from the outside. A bunch of kids living together being cared for by adults who aren’t their parents. 

That’s where the likeness ends, though. Kids in residential aren’t up for adoption. Strangers can’t go in and visit. The kids are there to receive extra care. They have something going on that make them too much to handle for their parents or foster parents, and it could be physical disability, behavioral issues, or mental health struggles. Most kids are in programs like that temporarily, though some live there for years. The adults that work there don’t live there. It’s a normal 40-hour workweek and many people work in shifts to make sure it’s properly staffed.

The government does line the kids up to show them off to prospective parents sometimes. They’re called adoption parties, and for some reason they’re held at Jordan’s Furniture store a lot. (Because they volunteer the space, I think.) There’s food and music and lots of kids up for adoption and lots of parents hoping to adopt. 

Little kids tend to like them because they’re too young to understand what’s going on and, hey, lots of people to pay attention to me! Older kids HAAATE them. If they want to be adopted, then this is a great way to feel judged and rejected for a few hours. Most aren’t really excited about being adopted. Most kids’ birth parents are still alive, but their rights were forcefully terminated by the state. The kids can feel lots of things about this. Angry. Disloyal to their birth family if they want a new family. Scared of being hurt by the new family. Sad to leave their foster family. Still want to go home even if it’s not possible. It’s not a fun time. 

Nothing concrete comes of these parties usually. Parents can talk to social workers afterward if there’s a kid that they want more information on, but it’s really the beginning of the process. There are other ways to begin that process. I’ve heard of teachers meeting a foster kid and wanting to adopt, or someone knowing a foster family taking care of a kid who’s up for adoption. Others simply talk to an adoption worker. I don’t know what the process is like for that. Quite often, foster families will take care of a kid and then adopt them. (That’s what happened to us. We fostered a newborn. He wasn’t up for adoption until he was two, and we were couldn’t even contemplate giving him up at that point.)

Sometimes, social workers will try to get prospective parents to meet kids without the kids realizing the adults are thinking about adoption, to spare the kid the worry and rejection. Once the parents have decided to move forward, there is paperwork, but I think it’s normal foster parent type paperwork because, surprise, you can’t adopt them yet. Kids have to live in your house for six months before you can adopt

Since most kids will be with a foster family before going to a pre-adoptive home, and they probably are comfortable there and attached to the family, the transition to the new home is gradual. They start out with visits for a few hours, then sleepovers. If the kid hasn’t figured it out already, they’ll let them know these people want to adopt them around this time. Some kids take it well. Some... don’t. Longer sleepovers, then finally they officially move in. This could be a couple weeks if the kid is already familiar with the adoptive family or longer if they’re particularly attached to the foster family. 

If six months are up and things are still going well, the real paperwork can start. There are home evaluations, interviews with the parents, interviews with the children already in the family, psychologists determine if the adoptee is adjusted well and securely attached. I’m sure there’s a ton more that I don’t know about. It freaking takes forever. When you’re done, you have to go to court and have papers signed by a judge. I’m sure this is the best part of every judge’s day. There are smiles and pictures and kids happily banging the gavel to make it official!

Unfortunately, the issues that come from adoption are not all solved at the end of the 90-minute movie. My brother, who never lived with his birth mother and has only had us as his family, still has issues. I know a girl who was straight up abandoned by her mother. She’s got serious mental health and self-worth issues years later, even though she and family adore each other and they are so good to her and super supportive. On the other hand, some people have zero issues over it. They don’t know and don’t care about their birth family.

Some issues go away after time and love. Some people start out with no issues, but after a few months or years, things start to change. Their subconscious realizes that they’re not in danger, and this is a safe environment where they can finally start to work through the trauma they’ve been through, and suddenly they’ll start having mental health or behavioral problems, and sometimes they’re severe. 

It’s sad, but occasionally adoptions fail. This is part of the reason for the six-month wait. Sometimes the kids have so many issues that the parents can’t help them and keep them safe. Sometimes the parents weren’t as good people as they pretended to be and should haven’t kids. Thankfully, this type. of thing is pretty rare. I’ve never met anyone who it’s happened to. Most of the time, kids are put into good homes with people who love them and help them heal from the things their birth families put them through. 

TL;DR There aren’t any orphanages in the US. Adoption is very complicated and emotionally messy, but it’s great! I’m sorry not sorry I wrote an essay. 

*I give Meet the Robinsons a pass. Lots of kids who are up for adoption or who have been adopted struggle with it a lot. For some, they feel worthless because their foundational belief about themselves is that not even their own mother wanted them. For others, they feel guilty about betraying their birth family when they start to love the adoptive family. Some are rejected repeatedly. Almost all of them have been deeply hurt in the past. Meet the Robinsons acknowledges issues like these and told the story of a boy who dealt with them in a healthy way, and showed kids that it’s okay for them to be happy, and made a very cute and imaginative movie out of it, and I love it for existing. 

[jazy3]

Thoughts on Grey’s Anatomy: 17X15

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Wow! A lot happened in this episode. It was billed as Jackson’s goodbye episode, but it turned out to be so much more than that. Meredith got discharged and was reunited with her kids, Tom decided to move to Boston to work for Jackson, and we got the show’s first Indigenous doctor and patient storyline! I honestly think Jackson’s farewell was really well done! While it’s true he could do the work he wants to do just as easily from Seattle everything else about his exit makes sense to me. He’s tired of sitting on the sidelines and he wants to make real change where he can.

I loved his conversation with Meredith and how he was the one to sneak her out. I loved Meredith's voice over for this episode and how it followed Jackson's actions and the flashback montage set to music. I thought it was fitting. I would have liked him to have said goodbye to Ben because they were the Plastics Posse until he left to become a firefighter but apart from that I was happy with it. The character has come such a long way during his run on the show and I feel like this episode reflected that.

The editing was really well done too. Especially the shot of him overlooking the lobby. That transition was seamless. I loved his goodbye scene with Meredith. It made me so emotional. I love that Meredith tried to lighten the mood by making a joke about how she won because she's the last one standing. That scene when she hugged the pillow after he left because she misses him and everyone else really got me. I also really liked the conversation he had with Bailey and Richard.

I'm glad he said a proper goodbye to Jo although I didn't find it super emotional. In addition to Ben, I would also like to have seen a goodbye with Maggie. I'm surprised they didn't do that. Maggie was so focused on Meredith's recovery that it's not clear if she even knows that Jackson is moving to Boston. They also could have done a big emotional scene with Catherine. On a lighter note, I am so happy that Meredith is doing better for real this time and has been discharged! I've been waiting for this since the mid-season point.

I loved the scene where she was reunited with her kids and Amelia was panicking about the state of the house and Meredith told her it was fine and that was just how she liked it. Meredith getting Jackson to sneak her out of the hospital felt very in character to me. As her voice over says Meredith isn't one for tradition or big hullabaloos which is why I think the others tried to keep it a secret. I'm not surprised that she ducked out early. While I get why the other characters wanted to do a big send off for her, I feel like they should know by now that's not her style.  

I loved the scene where Amelia and Link found out Meredith might be coming home, and they hugged and then Link said he had to go to work and Amelia started crying and then asked why he was still there. Link was so confused and then Amelia told him she’d be crying off and on like that all day to get her emotions out and that she’d be fine and he needed to go to work. That is so Amelia! But in a good way. Post-tumour and with her addiction under control even in a pandemic Amelia is now able to express her emotions in a healthy way so she doesn’t relapse or spin out of control. That is such huge growth for her. I loved the scene at the end with her and Meredith.

The smile that they share. The look between them. You could see early seasons Private Practice Amelia in that look but also mature and stable new Amelia. I loved that Amelia was all worried about the state of the house and Meredith was fine with it being a mess because as a working Mom she knows what it’s like and all she wanted was to be at home with her kids in her messy house.

At the end of the episode we find out that Tom’s near death experience with COVID has caused him to re-evaluate his life. He feels lucky to have lived to have been spared and he wants to help Jackson make real change in Boston. On the one hand I was surprised by Tom’s exit, but on the other hand I wasn’t. I love Tom and will truly miss his character, but ever since the affair came out and he and Teddy split and she started working on trying to repair her relationship with Owen, Tom hasn't had a lot to do.

I'm sad they didn't do more with him because he's such a great and complex character and I know some people had speculated they might pair him up with Mama Ortiz which could have been interesting. I'm sad we didn't get to see him say goodbye to Amelia, Link, Teddy, Catherine, or Meredith. Tom and Amelia are old friends, he trained her, he took out her brain tumour, and she rushed to the hospital when she heard he had been admitted for COVID-19.

Tom and Link seemed to be getting along as of late and Tom was ready to be a father to Teddy's baby before she got back together with Owen. He found her the perfect apartment and he built a crib for a child that wasn’t biologically his that he was so excited to meet and be a Dad to. All this after his own son died and his marriage collapsed as a result. He treated her like gold and she’s done nothing but treat him horribly for no reason. I don't think I’ll ever forgive Teddy for that.

Catherine and Tom are also old friends that go back even farther. She appointed him as Chief Medical Officer of the Fox Foundation. She told him about DeLuca’s death and took him to the Memorial. When Richard was sick, she told him she wanted him to take over the Foundation in her absence. Tom and Meredith had such an emotional scene earlier this season and he's been praying for her every day. Does she know that? Does Meredith know that Tom has been praying for her and worrying about her? I was expecting a follow up scene to that, so I hope we get one.

I found the patient storyline that Tom, Levi, and Indigenous intern James Chee had really moving. Grey's has never had an Indigenous patient or doctor on the show before and while the dialogue did feel heavy handed at times, they brought some really important issues to light and were trying to make up for lost time so that’s understandable.  

Robert I. Mesa who plays Dr. Chee is Navajo Soboba and the patients that they treat at Coast Salish whose traditional territory encompasses the province of British Columbia, Canada and the states of Washington and Oregon in the United States. It’s really great to see an Indigenous actor bring stories about Indigenous characters to life in a realistic way for the same reason that it’s important to see black, brown, Asian, latinx, and LGBTQ+ actors bring stories about characters like themselves to life. It brings authenticity and ensures sure that white straight cisgender people aren’t taking roles away from people within those communities.

When I found out through Twitter that the show had cast its first Indigenous doctor, I was very excited. I work for an Indigenous organization currently and so Indigenous representation is an issue that is very near and dear to my heart. The first thing that came to mind for me was the Coast Salish artwork you see in the background of so many scenes of the show. From the show’s earliest seasons, you can see beautiful art pieces in red, blue, and black depicting fish, birds, and other animals on the walls of the hospital and in people’s offices.

Yet it is never addressed or mentioned that that is Coast Salish artwork. In order for it to be there someone from the art department must have travelled to Seattle to buy some local artwork to put up around the hospital. While that’s great for making the hospital look authentic to the area by not mentioning its origins or the fact that Indigenous people exist for 16 seasons does all Indigenous people a disservice. Indigenous people are not stereotypes or tokens or simply makers of pretty pictures.

Every group has their own culture, artwork, language, and traditions. I’m glad that Grey’s Anatomy is finally acknowledging the existence of Indigenous Americans and the fact that Indigenous people exist and continue to exist despite repeated ruthless attempts to murder and assimilate them. This is a huge problem in the United States, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, and other nations. While in the last few years Indigenous issues have gotten greater coverage in Canadian media there isn’t as much media coverage of Indigenous issues in the United States.

I love that Tom and Levi treated both the pregnant woman and her grandfather with respect and dignity and didn't dismiss their concerns or mock their traditions. I love that Tom actually had some knowledge of smudging ceremonies and that he referred to Dr. Chee respectfully when needed and allowed him to perform a smudging ceremony for the grandfather. When the pregnant patient’s husband thanks them and says that in the past they haven’t had great experiences in big hospitals that is unfortunately a sad reality for many.

Like other people of people and other marginalized and oppressed groups the concerns of Indigenous patients are often not taken seriously, and they often encounter racism that leads to poorer treatment and death. When the pregnant patient talks about how their centres are under resourced and that they were sent body bags instead of medical supplies that is a real thing. The Trump Administration actually did that in the States and the Harper Government here in Canada did that during the H1N1 Epidemic.

Thankfully, here in Canada the COVID-19 Pandemic response of the Trudeau Government has been worlds better. No sending of body bags and instead medical supplies and lots of relief money has been given to Indigenous organizations like mine to help real people. Indigenous Canadians have also been given priority status for vaccinations and as a result people are alive today that would have died previously. Now that’s not to say things are perfect here. There are still so many issues that need to be addressed including police violence, discrimination within the justice system, and the rate of missing and murdered Indigenous women. But at least some progress is being made.

The fact that they wrote Tom off reminded of an old adage about Grey’s Anatomy that I heard someone talking about at the start of this season which is that if there isn’t anyone significant for a character to date and you’re not an original character your days on the show are numbered. The fact that they wrote Tom off after putting Teddy and Owen back together makes me even more sure that Meredith and Hayes are going to end up together and that their relationship will be a key plot point of Season 18.

If that wasn’t the plan, I don’t think Hayes would still be there. There have been episodes this season where he has been very prominent, episodes where he’s been completely absent, and episodes like this one where he has a few short scenes. He wouldn’t still be there hanging around in the background if the plan wasn’t to set him up with Meredith. To me the only explanation that makes sense is that they are going to put Meredith and Hayes together hopefully before Season 17 ends.

Side note, I bet all of the actors who passed on being Meredith’s love interest or backed out for a movie or tv role on a newer show probably feel real dumb right now. Grey’s is about to go into its 18th season and Richard Flood who plays Hayes is getting paid mad bank whether he’s prominently in the episode or not! Plus, he slays that role. While the path they took to get here was bumpy I’m so glad that we got Hayes as a character and we’ve gotten to see his relationship with Meredith develop.

I would have loved to see more of Hayes this episode. I was expecting a scene in which he visited Meredith and I was a bit disappointed we didn’t get that. I get that the focus of the episode was on Jackson’s departure, Meredith being discharged, and Tom’s epiphany, but it would have been nice to see that. The scenes we did get were great! I love his dry sense of humour and his comments about Jo’s terrible handwriting.

My favourite moment of the episode was hands down when Hayes came to clap out Meredith with everyone else and then Perez came out and they realized that she had snuck out early and Hayes laughed and said, "Nice one Grey, Brillant!" And then he wished everyone a good night and headed out. If Meredith isn't there, he's out. He’s not even trying to hide his feelings for Meredith anymore. It’s an open secret that he likes her and is clearly smitten. Hell, at this point I wouldn’t be surprised if the janitors have a group chat about it.

I love that he laughed about it like it was some big cosmic joke they were both in on. He knows her so well. Everyone else was confused and her sisters were worried when they didn’t hear from her, but Hayes wasn’t worried because he knew she’d snuck out the back and that someone must have helped her. Speaking of romance, I’m guessing that next season they will bring in a new Head of Plastic Surgery for Jo to date. I feel like they will have more luck finding someone than they did when they tried to hire a new love interest for Meredith over the last few years because right now work is scarce.  

Also, in the romance department Teddy and Owen are back together. I'm happy for them, but other than that I don't really have any strong feelings about it. I am happy that they seem to be good and that the fighting and long-drawn-out drama is over. I've never been a ride or die Teddy and Owen shipper, so I don't feel an emotional rush seeing them back together. I loved Tom and Teddy together so I'm sorry that ended especially since Teddy and Owen have always been such a mess.

I think that they should have spent less time fighting and more time rebuilding their friendship before getting back together. We spent the first half of the season watching them fight non-stop and Owen made it clear he wanted nothing to do with Teddy ever again. Teddy treated Tom like crap while trying to win Owen back who clearly didn’t want her. While I’m glad they have reconciled, and the drama appears to be over I wish they had spent less time on the fighting and more time on exploring Teddy’s trauma and having them rebuild their friendship if that was the route they were going to go.

We also get more details about Maggie and Winston’s wedding this episode. I posited on Twitter a few days ago that I thought Maggie might ask both her dads Bill and Richard to walk her down the aisle as she'd want to include both of them in the ceremony. I think having Bill walk her down the aisle and Richard officiate is lovely. It reminds me of when Bailey stepped up to officiate Callie and Arizona's wedding.

I’d like to see more interactions between Meredith and Winston and Meredith and Link in the future as both men have become a part of the family largely while Meredith was sick so it would be great to see them get to know each other and bond. I really loved the scene between Winston, Link, and Owen where Winston was trying to figure out if Teddy and Owen were back together and Winston and Owen were teasing Link about the Sister House. It’s nice to see them all bond. It would be even better if they would all have more scenes with Hayes and for them to bond as well. I hope to see more of that next season.

I get why Link wants to get out of the Sister House, but I think he was a bit unrealistic about the situation. Meredith just got discharged. Amelia and Maggie aren’t going to want to leave her side until she tells them she’s ready and it’s okay for them to go and take a step back. I foresee them going with a hybrid approach next season where Maggie and Winston move to his place following the wedding and Link, Amelia, and Scout move to Link's place, but they still spend time at Meredith's house frequently. I imagine after being away from her kids for so long at some point Meredith is going to want her house back and to spend time alone with her kids.

I'm interested to see Meredith talk about her time on the beach in the upcoming episodes. Richard and Bailey were struggling to figure out how to tell her about DeLuca’s death but we the audience knew that Meredith already knew he had died. When she coded previously, and Ellis Grey passed away the first words out of her mouth were about her mother being dead. But here we see something different. When Meredith wakes up this season the first words out of her mouth are about how much she and Derek love Zola. She uses the word ‘we’ so the audience knows what she’s talking about, but the characters don’t.

It appears that at least a week has passed since the previous episode possibly two and we learn that Meredith hasn’t brought up her time on the beach or her visits from the dead to anyone. I think that she’s keeping that to herself for a few reasons. She didn’t want to leave the beach and telling that to the people who just spend the past three months trying desperately to save her life would probably come across as suicidal and upsetting. The conversations between her and Derek were personal and private, and she may not be ready to share them just yet.

Her conversations with George, Lexie, and Mark were also pretty personal so she might not be ready to talk about that either. In this episode we see her tell Bailey and Richard that DeLuca is okay because he’s with his mother. The scene cuts away, so we don’t know what else she tells them. Hopefully we’ll find out next week. My guess is that the first person she’ll talk to about the beach in the following episodes will be Hayes because he will understand her desire to stay because of how he lost his wife.

He won’t see her desire to stay on the beach as suicidal or crazy because he would probably think about doing the same thing if given the opportunity. We saw Meredith be really vulnerable with Hayes when she first got sick about her fears of dying and falling asleep. They’ve talked at length about their spouses and their past relationships in a way she hasn’t with other characters. I feel like he is the perfect person to talk to about what happened on the beach because he won’t judge Meredith or take her desire to stay personally.

They’ve already established that Hayes is a supportive and understanding person who is happy to sit there and listen to Meredith talk about her experience of dating after death and past relationships and so I think he’s someone Meredith can open to about what it was like to see Derek again, what it was like to realize her ex-boyfriend was dying, what is what like to get closure with George, and gain wisdom from Lexie and Mark. I’m hoping that will happen in next week’s episode and if not in the finale.

We saw Helm having a tough time this episode. I think Helm moving in with Levi and Jo is a good idea. I think it will give Helm the support she needs and I'm glad Levi is there for her. We haven't seen Jo and Helm interact much so far, so I'm interested to see how Jo is going to feel about her moving in. Also, where is Helm going to sleep? Jo and Levi live in a one room loft where Jo sleeps in a large bed and Levi sleeps on the couch. I would have liked to have seen more scenes along the way building up to this as Levi and Helm haven't had a scene all season and now right at the end you see him trying to help her. I also really miss Parker as a character. I wish they brought him back as well as Helm.

Something I didn’t like was that they seem to be focusing on DeLuca, his death, and his absence more than they should. I get that the writers and people behind the scenes liked the actor who played him, but the character himself was pretty widely detested by the other characters for seasons 15 and 16 so having them talk about him like he was such a great guy that everyone was super close to and that they all miss feels hollow to me and kind of annoying.

DeLuca and Meredith were not that close. They weren’t friends and rarely had a scene together prior to Season 15. They stopped talking entirely after he broke up with her in Season 16 and they weren’t friends when he died. So, talking about how he would have been so happy for her and one of the first people to cheer her on is strange. Also, I felt like Jo’s comments to Carina were out of place. I get that when someone dies its customary to say nice things about them to their family and Carina is mentoring Jo and she’s grateful for that, but DeLuca was god awful to her.

They become really good friends after Alex attacked him but then they stopped being friends when she got back together with Alex. They stopped having scenes together after that until he took an interest in Meredith at which time Jo and Alex both made it abundantly clear to his face and behind his back that they disliked him, and they hated the idea of him and Meredith together. All he did was antagonize both of them during seasons 15 and 16 for absolutely no reason and then after Alex left DeLuca walked up to Jo at the Emerald City Bar touched her without her consent and attempted to kiss her and get her to sleep with him to the point that she wound up throwing a drink in his face to get him to leave her alone.

He then told the bartender she was crazy after she told him to get some help. That’s sexual assault and attempted rape and DeLuca should have gone to jail for what he did. Instead we never see it addressed, he never apologizes, and they don’t share a single together after that. My hope is that they will finally moving on from talking about DeLuca and his absence next season. It’s getting a bit ridiculous at this point and it’s time to move on.

Onto next week’s promo! We don’t get a lot of information from this one. We see Bailey talking about how she’s losing surgeons left, right, and centre and she can’t afford to lose anymore and Meredith talking about how she can’t operate if she can’t stand on her feet. She’s worried she might never get back to operating, but this is Grey’s Anatomy so we know she will. Link talks to Amelia about wanting more children which considering that Scout is only a few months old and they couldn’t wait to get out of the house full of children just last week is a terrible idea. Link finally calls Jo on the fact that she clearly wants to adopt Luna who promptly codes! Yikes!

Until next time!

[jeromesxreader16]

Such A Joker (48)

Part 47 Here!!!

~o0o~

"Alright Ms. Gordon, this is going to be a bit cold.'' The doctor places the gel on my stomach. Barbara holds my hand smiling.

"and there it is." I watch the doctor point at a small dot. "wait. What is that?" Barbara asks squinting at the screen. "Ah, good eye Ms. Keen. Congratulations (y/n), you're carrying twins." I look at Barbara gasping. "Twins." Barbara smirks and covers her mouth. "I guess this is what happens when you get with two brothers!" "Hush Babs! That's not how it works!"

The doctor smiles as we watch the two dots dance alongside each other.

~

I walk into Jeremiah's office smiling at the photo of the babies. "And right here we can use the commanded wire so it will transfuse- darling - you're back." I look up in a daze seeing Bruce and Jeremiah both in the office working on the project.

"Oh! I'm so sorry to interrupt! I'll come back, boys." Bruce shakes his head. "No, no, Ms. Gordon. Please." Jeremiah walks over with a kiddish grin. "How is it?" I smile at the picture before handing it over to him. "They are just fine." "They?" Jeremiah stares down at the picture showing the two babies. "Twins, Jeremiah." He smiles engulfing me in a hug. "Mother always said twins are better because you have double the love." I laugh rolling my eyes.

"Congratulations, (y/n). On the engagement and the child." Bruce says hugging me. Jeremiah shrugs placing an arm over Bruce's shoulder. "I may have told him earlier."

~

I knock on my dad's door tapping my foot. "(Y/n)!" He opens it hugging me tightly. "Hi, dad!" I enter sitting on his couch. "I'm just watching the game. You want a beer?" I shake my head, placing my hand on my stomach unconsciously.

"What's that?" "What?" My father picks up my hand with my engagement ring. "Oh! Actually what I came to talk to you about. Jeremiah proposed. Can you believe it?"

My dad scoffs, "Son of a bitch." "Aren't you happy?" "Are you sure you want to do this, (y/n)? Marriage is a big step. Then you'll start a family, and you don't know the first thing about how to raise a child. I just think you should slow down a little." I stare at Jim with disbelief. "Slow down? That shouldn't matter if I'm happy with him, dad."

"I know you like him, and he is a good guy, but are you sure he's the right one? His brother was a-" "He is nothing like Jerome!"

Jim shakes his head, sighing. "I think you should rethink this." I stand up walking to the door. "Is it your plan in life to kill my happiness? You can't control me anymore. I shouldn't have even told you." I open the door exiting the home as my father calls out for me into the Gotham sky.

"Who needs him."

~

Late into the hours of the AM, I awake by the sound of laughter echoing through the halls. I reach for Jeremiah only to find his spot empty. "Uh oh. Better check on him. Make sure he hasn't gone overboard!" Jerome laughs as he covers up in his brother's spot in the bed.

I follow the echo towards the living room and upon entering I see Jeremiah sitting in front of a camera and applying makeup with a mirror.

"What are you doing?"

Jeremiah turns to me patting his face with my beauty blender. "Do you just take all my things?" "What's yours is mine, darling."

I look down at the table looking at the different things spread out. I pick up strips of false skin and look at Jeremiah. "What are you planning?"

He looks at me and sighs pulling out a colorful notebook. "That is Jerome's." He nods humming. He opened it and pushed towards me showing me a crazy plan to terrorize Gotham.

"I've only taken ideas from him here and there. He's far too insane for anything to work. Look where it got him. He was obsessed with killing me, Bruce, and Jim Gordon."

I huff rolling my eyes at the mention of my father. "Yeah, he had a habit of pissing people off." Jeremiah smirks at me as I speak poorly of Jim. "Read through it. You've played in this game before. I want your advice."

I read the whole plan twice over before looking up at Jeremiah smirking.

"You're going to throw a wake for Jerome at the GCPD?" All while you are what?" He nods putting on the fake scars. "Wait, babe. You're crooked." I move, helping him apply the fake face of Jerome.

"I need those crazed fans of his to handle the chaos while I get some things done for the future. They're my distraction. I need you in the GCPD making sure it plays out." I smirk patting the foundation on his face.

He smirks up at me and shrugs. "Once you start to show I need to keep you safe throughout this process. It's going to be messy, darling." He chuckles looking in the mirror.

"Ecco could be your sidekick after I'm out. She can wear my stuff." Jeremiah smirks, grabbing my wrist. Turning to face me with his icy eyes. "Trust me, love. I've got everything laid out. She's already agreed to stay by our side, love."

Jeremiah sits at the camera composing himself. "Ready, Jer?" He nods, closing his eyes and giggling.

"3... 2... 1... ACTION!"

~

"Ecco, tie me up will you?" She rushes behind me tightening the back of the black top. "You look amazing." She says smiling at me from over my shoulder. "She does, doesn't she?" Jeremiah smirks from his seat as he gazes at me.

Ecco clears her throat backing away emotionless. "You have everything you need, love?" I stand in front of Jeremiah pulling out the recording, megaphone, and my gun. "Locked and loaded, baby." He grins nodding at me. "Such a good girl." He snakes his arm around my waist and walks me out to my motorcycle.

"Now I want all three of you to be safe." Jeremiah places his hands on my stomach kissing my forehead. "So cheesy." He smirks at me smacking my bottom quickly. "Get on the bike. Mrs. Valeska, and come home quickly. Your husband will need you."

~

I roll up as the leader of the gang is speaking full-hearted words of my lost lover. "Brothers and sisters, let's raise a glass to our fallen leader. To Jerome!"

"To Jerome!" They chant, then spit on Jerome's grave. I giggle stepping out. "To Jerome. He will be missed. Certainly by me." The gang giggles and looks at me questionably.

The leader walks up to me looking me over. "This affair is invitation only." "Hm. Well, I have to say I'm a bit upset you didn't invite me." I remove my mask and they all gasp. "Ms. Gordon!" "It's her!"

The leader gasps getting on his knees. "I am so sorry! I meant no disrespect." I scoff rolling my eyes. "Stand up. I've got something to say."

"The Queen shall speak!" Followers help me upon a grave acting as a small stage. I lift the megaphone and recorder playing the message. "Why so sad, bozos? Did you think they could get rid of me so easily? Well, okay. So, they did. I'm dead, but let's not dwell on negatives. I have one last party to throw. But first, on the to-do list, dig me up. Dig me up!"

"You heard him!"

"Come on, clowns! Dig him up!"

"Get Jerome!"

I laugh at the idiots giving the direction to invade the GCPD bright and early.

~

I walk into the GCPD, passing the investigation room, and seeing Lee of all people. I laugh walking to meet my father yelling at Harvey.

"Get out of here." "What?" "I don't need that crap thrown in my face right now. Get out of here!" I walk up laughing. "Wow, mad because your ex got arrested? Tough case."

"(Y/n). What are you doing here?" I shrug sipping my coffee. "I was in the neighborhood. Can't I stop by and see my father? Or are you still mad at me for being happy?" Jim looks down avoiding eye contact. "Can we please not do this here?" "Want some help then?" I walk in the door of the investigation room before Jim can stop me. I turn to Lee smiling, "Hey there, lady. I've heard you've been having some real fun."

She looks me over grinning as she analyzed my frame. "(Y/n), I wasn't expecting you. Your... glowing." I wink at her sitting in one of the chairs.

My father walks in sitting down across from her heatedly. "What the hell, Lee?"

Lee raised her brows, "I don't suppose this is where anyone expected our story to end." "So, it's ending?" "Hard to imagine what's left."

My father sighs, "I wanna help you." "How?" "Give up Nygma." I gasp slamming my hand on the table. "You and Ed? Oh my gosh! So cute! How about this. You could just return the money, right? We can ask the DA for supervised probation." Lee shakes her head. "I'm not betraying my friend."

"They can call you "the Doc," you can rob banks, fight gangsters, but I know you. You're Lee Thompkins. And all this, this is just a... A way of helping people. I understand that. Who doesn't want to be Robin Hood? But you're still breaking the law."

"Jim, you wish you could do what I'm doing. Helping people without the straitjacket of the law? As if the law means anything in Gotham. Look at your daughter free and running around after she committed murder." I glare at her. "I've got my sane papers to prove it, T."

"You want to send me to Blackgate? Go ahead!" Lee challenges loudly. "I don't want to send you to Blackgate! It's the last thing I want to do! Don't you know I wish I could let you walk out that door, turn my head."

I look at my father tilting my head. "Then what's holding you back, Jimbo? Maybe if you'd let her go, you'd let yourself go, too. You could let me go." Jim furrows his brows fighting with himself.

Suddenly the tension is split with knocking on the door. Harvey pops his head in, "Sorry to stick my face in your business, but something just came up."

I walk into the big office stealing the chair at the desk. "What's this all about?" "Your ex-boyfriend twice over has just granted us with a gift. Any clue on what it is?" I shake my head playing along. "How could he have planned this? You don't think he might still be alive, do you?"

Harvey turns to Mr. Fox, "What were the autopsy results, Lucius?"

"Dead when he came in, more dead when he was eviscerated, and his brain was sliced up."

The screen on the TV focuses and Jerome appears on the screen. "Hello, Jimmy! If you're watching this, things must not have gone well for me. Shucks! I know my dear, doll is crying herself to sleep in my brother's arms. I can only pray, I gave as good as I got, and left ample carnage in my wake. But I don't want to fixate on disappointments. Jimmy, I have one last teensy request for you from your ole late son in law. I want you to throw me a wake at the GCPD. Don't worry about the guest list. I've already sent the invitations."

A car horn sounds loudly outside and the rumble of the gang outside rises. "I don't like the sound of that," Harvey says looking around the room.

"Lockdown everything, now! Everybody listen up! Lock it down! Lock it down, now!

The mod bangs against the door risking the chance of invading the GCPD. I look over the panic of the cops biting my lip. "What are we going to do? We need to hit them! Get them away from here." I say frustrated.

"We're not. We're going to let them in." Jim says, making me look at him wide-eyed. "Have you lost your mind, dad?" "(Y/n), you know how Jerome works, dead or alive. He uses distractions." I look at the door that is about to bust wide open to the freaks on the outside. "We're just going to let them come in and party?"

Jim nods gathering us around. "This wake is just intended to distract us, while his followers hit the real target."

"Which is?"

Well, we're never gonna figure that out if we're inside, fighting off these maniacs, are we? Look, they come in the front door, right? You fall back, get a few shots off, make it look good. Meanwhile, the entire precinct sneaks out this old service door as quickly as possible. Once we're outside, we surround the building, cordon it off." I smirk at my father's plan. "You're trapping them inside!"

"Correct. They blow off some steam. We hit 'em with teargas, and knock a few heads."

"There is the issue with figuring out what the real target is. Got a plan for that, dad?"

Jim smirks. "I do."

~

Jeremiah POV:

"I didn't think you could get the generator program working so quickly," Bruce says admiring the tower. "You ready for a demonstration?"

"Okay, you hit that switch there, and the facility will be disconnected from the power grid." Bruce flips the switch on the wall allowing the tower to take over the power ridge completely.

The generator hums lowly and glows, seconds later the lights in the building return and the tower is stable. "Ambient energy. No cables or wires of any kind. It's clean and stable. Harvested from micro tremors and air density shifts, it's... It's virtually without costs." I hum looking over my work.

"And with the prototypes at Wayne Labs, we can power all of Gotham?"

"You've kept this project a secret, yes?"

"No one outside of Wayne Industries knows it exists."

I mumble walking towards my desk. "It's the ones who are closest to you that you have to keep your eye on. I know better than anyone." I pull out Jerome's diary chuckling to myself. "Arkham Asylum sent me Jerome's personal effects, and amongst them, I found his diary. It's a catalog of his fantasies and goals. Every twisted vision he ever had." I turn a few pages seeing the horrific drawings.

"Maybe you shouldn't spend so much time reading it." I nod, "(Y/n) says that too. He was obsessed with torturing and murdering me, James Gordon, and you, and if he had been just the least bit sane, he would have destroyed us all. And Gotham would be in ruin."

Bruce walks over placing a hand on my shoulder. "Your brother's dead, Jeremiah. It's time for you to come out of this bunker and join the world. You'll be a father soon, and you can't expect your kids to have their father living underground."

I shutter and nodded in agreement. "Yes. Yes, he's dead. I still have trouble believing it."

Bruce picks up his phone suddenly.

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

"Thank you, Alfred. I'm on my way." Bruce faces me again, "Lunch plans... That was a lie."

"You're lying to me, Bruce?"

He sighs, shaking his head. "You're right. I'm sorry. It seems some of Jerome's followers are causing trouble." I shutter in panic. "Oh, my God. I was right."

"No, Jeremiah."

"I was right. He's not dead. Bruce, he's not dead. He's alive, and he's coming after me and (y/n)!"

Bruce grabs my shoulders holding me steady. "Jeremiah, easy, easy. You're not thinking clearly. Come on, this isn't like you."

I sigh looking at my friend letting everything play out. "Bruce... Bruce, I need to tell you something. After Jerome died, he left one last final trap for me and (Y/n)... He sprayed both of us with his insanity gas." Bruce backs away slightly.

"It's a special mixture just for you, brother," he said. I can't stop seeing him. Clawing his way out of his grave, coming for me, and even though I know it's not real, it feels real. And I can't control myself." Bruce nods coming forward again. "What if I could show you he's dead and buried?" "How?" "We go there, to his grave."

I shake my head frantically. "No. No, no, no."

"Jeremiah, listen to me. Your brother took away your greatest strength, your mind, and turned it into a trap. But if you can see the reality, you can be freed from that trap." I stare at him in hope. "You really think that would work?" He nods his head. "I do."

"Then I'll try. You're a good friend, Bruce."

~

The freaks in the GCPD cause chaos as we try to escape. "There's too many of them." I scramble on my feet down the hallway and into the locker room with my dad.

"We have to go!"

I race to the door only to be knocked down by a cult member. She smirks at me and I wink at her going along with our little act. "Hey, there little thing!"

"Well, look at us. We caught ourselves Captain James Gordon and his little girl! How fantastic!"

"Hi, guys." My dad grins at them.

"Don't try and get chummy with us, Gordon. We're gonna carve you up."

"Yeah, no, I wasn't talking to you. I was talking to them." Jim says pointing behind us towards Harvey. "Hey, man, you like to dance?" Harvey tases them.

"Let's you and me talk outside, what do you say?"

They stuff the poor guy in the trunk and tase him every few minutes for an answer.

"Long live Jerome!"

Harvey groans, tasing him once more. "All right. One more time, sunshine. Did Jerome leave any other instructions?"

"I'll never- AH!"

"All right, look, this is how it's going to go. You're going to start talking, or I'm gonna stop caring whether you can talk, you got it?" He groans and nods looking at Harvey with fear.

"I'll talk! It's too late, anyways. They're already dead."

"Who? Who's dead?" I challenge with worry. He giggles and replies in a sing-song voice. "Jeremiah and Bruce Wayne." I shut the trunk frustrated.

"He can't be telling the truth, can he? Dad, if Jer is gone..." "Don't worry about this. I want you to go to your apartment, (Y/n). I'll bring Jeremiah to you. I'll go to the bunker." I nod sighing. "Be careful."

As I walk away from the GCPD I call Ecco. "It's a go. He's heading there now."

~

Jim POV:

"Bruce? Jeremiah?" I call out into the stone bunker. I walk into Jeremiah's office seeing the large generator creating a static buzz. The monitors on the wall turn on revealing a static picture of Jerome. "Hiya, Jimbo!"

"Jerome..."

"Ah! Don't bother talkin' to me. This is a recorded message, and plus, I'm still dead. Just more posthumous fun. Look, I knew you'd see through all those shenanigans at the station. I've given all my fans a script for them to follow. See, I wanted to bring you here. Oh!" Suddenly a gun is pressed to my head from a masked figure. "Don't mind her. She's just here to make sure there's no talking during the movie. And, trust me, you're gonna wanna pay attention, so the twist makes sense at the end."

Jerome laughs easily. Two hands reach around his neck strangling him allowing me a chance to fight off the masked women. Once battling her to the ground I remove the mask. "Ecco?"

Jerome goes limp on screen only to have him pop up on the other. He pulls his sleeves up smiling, "I tell you, suicide really takes it out of a guy." He pulls out a red cloth and wipes his face with it. "Huh. What's this?" Jerome peels the skin from his face smirking at the screen.

"No."

He holds the cloth over his face concealing his features. "Jerome is dead." He removes the cloth revealing a pale-faced Jeremiah. "Long live me." He speaks with a calm smirk as his icy eyes burn into mine.

"I apologize for the deception, Jim. I needed to ape Jerome in order to persuade his followers to throw that macabre celebration at your police station. They are a pathetic lot, but not without their uses."

Ecco gets up and exits the room locking the door in a split second. I pull against them in an effort to escape.

"Ah, sidebar, that is a self-perpetuating generator. It can store a phenomenal amount of energy. I would hate to be within a mile of it if it were to overload."

~

"Now do you believe I'm not your brother? Jeremiah, listen to me! Jerome's followers are doing this! Nothing else makes sense. He sent them instructions to torment you." Bruce cries out as I examine my brother's face. I scoff, "How fake. Yes, I can see quite clearly where you cut off poor Bruce's face, and stitched on your own. But I am a man of science. So, let's have some evidence, huh?" I pull out a knife lunging at Bruce.

"Let's go, brother. Let's pull off that grotesque facade." I giggle, swiping the blade at Bruce. He twists my arms and grabs me in a locked hold.

"Jeremiah! Do not let him turn you into him! Do not let Jerome win this battle! Think about your kids! Think about (y/n)!"

I giggle in his grip, "Jerome, beat me? That'll be the day."

The followers come out ripping us apart chanting.

"Long live Jerome! Long live Jerome! Long live Jerome!"

A member holding onto me yells, "Jerome is victorious at last!" I roll my eyes whipping my gun out from my sleeve and shooting him dead. Blood splatters on me as he falls and the yard grows silent. "Jerome victorious? Are you serious?"

I look down gesturing to his dead body. "He's dead. Haven't you been paying attention?"

I sigh pulling out a rag and wiping the olive tone cover off my face allowing my pale skin to come to the light.

I smirk walking over to Jerome and kicking him back in the grave. "I am the one who's victorious."

I turn back to Bruce and the cult smirking. "Look, Bruce, like everything Jerome set his mind to, his insanity gas failed. Other than some mild cosmetic effects, he might as well have sprayed me with water. You all need to see Jerome for the utter dud that he was. So, I donned the mask of madness to show you how feeble that is compared to actual greatness. Behold, the face of true sanity. But looks aren't everything. I have a compendium of Jerome's obsessions and goals. I will outdo every one of them."

(Y/n) stolls out reading Jerome's diary. "Jerome wanted to turn Gotham into a madhouse. But Jeremiah taught me to build something, you must first tear down what is already there. Start fresh." She smirks looking over the pictures.

"Jeremiah, the gas worked. Both of you are insane!" Bruce fights against the hold of the followers. "Think about it. You want to carry out Jerome's crazy plans sanely? What could be madder than that?"

(Y/n) steps up, pinching Bruce's cheek. "Madder? Bruce, you're so misled."

"May I, love?" I take the book from (y/n) turning to a page full of insanity fueled ideas. "Ah, here, for example. Jerome wanted to slather you in honey, and have you eaten alive by corpse beetles... Now, that's mad. Me, if I wanna kill you, I'll just do it. I'll shoot you in the head. Simply and sanely." I finish aiming my gun at Bruce and smirking. "But I don't want to kill you."

All the followers groan with disappointment. "Are you gonna listen, or are you gonna behave like children?"

"See, I don't want to kill you, because I wanna show you how much I've changed things. How much we've changed things. Because I could not have done any of this without your help." Bruce furrows his brows.

"My help?"

(Y/n) smiles leaning against me. "Should we tell him, Jer?" She giggles looking up at me. I kiss her head sweetly.

"I feel very indebted to you, Bruce. See, those generators that we built with your money... they work even better as bombs."

~

"That sound you're hearing. That is a very bad sound. One which, I'm afraid, makes you something of a guinea pig, Jim."

I look behind me seeing the generator buzzing louder each second. "Killing you will help secure the loyalty of Jerome's minions, but more importantly it will keep you out of (Y/n)'s life. Now, she doesn't know this yet, but it's for the better. And, well... That is that. Goodbye, Jim Gordon."

~

Suddenly an explosion goes off in the direction of the bunker. Jeremiah smiles watching the gas cloud. "That's one down. Jim Gordon is dead."

"What?" I look up at Jeremiah shocked. "You didn't tell me you were going to do this. T-That's my father, Jer." He sighs pouting his lip towards me. "Love, I understand, but he was never going to let us be together. Now, we can be a real family. Wouldn't that be nice?"

"Aww, now, that's actually cute. Son of a bitch finally did it! Be happy he's not controlling your life anymore, doll!" Jerome's voice flashes in my ears.

I gulp looking in the direction of the smoke. "I think I'm more upset about our home."

Jeremiah smirks looking at me. "I've set us up, darling. Don't you worry. Everything important was moved last night."

Bruce fights against the follower's hold. "(y/n), how could you do this? He is your father!"

Jeremiah waves his hand, hushing Bruce. "Sorry, Bruce, but progress requires sacrifice."

"I'm going to stop you." Bruce sneers. I sigh, shaking my head. "I really hope you don't try. I would hate to have to kill you. In fact, I can honestly say, you are my very best friend." I walk over hitting him over the head with my gun, and throwing him in the grave with my brother.

I wrap my arm around (Y/n) walking away from the graveyard. "Well, that was fun." She said giggling. I smirk holding her close. "Yes, it was, love. Long live us."

"Jeremiah! Jeremiah!" The followers chant behind us as we file out. ~

Ecco follows behind us as (Y/n) and I walk down the dark hall towards the generator base in Wayne Enterprises. "Good evening, gentlemen." I speak waltzing towards them.

"Hey there, Mr. Valeska. You and (Y/n) alone or is that Mr. Wayne behind you too?"

"No, Mr. Wayne. She's just a little help."

(Y/n) pulls out a gun shooting both men dead. "Nice shot." Ecco praises her as I open the doors revealing the many bombs. I grin overlooking my projects. "Look at these. The gifts of true friendship. Ecco, let's load them on the trucks. It's time to give Gotham City its new face." I pull (Y/n) to me smiling. "It's time I build a city good enough for my Queen." I place my hands in her stomach getting jitters. "And for my heirs."

[border-spam]

Leech Lord: Worries

Tyreen - Troy

Always. Constantly, inescapably, Troy.

He's smouldered in the back of her mind as long as she can remember, like a fever. She couldn't not worry about her twin, even as a child it was impossible to block out the cold tightness in her belly that would rise whenever they were apart for any length of time.

She couldn't play alone for an hour without a pang of concern, was he ok? He'd been in bed days... was there something he'd like out here she could bring for him? Maybe Mom would let them play rock soldiers on the mattress if she found some good ones, ones with the little shiny flecks he liked.

The gnawing bite when he'd set out to hunt and she'd be left home with Pop, when keeping him and dad fed was a real problem even without Mom around anymore, the fear that one day he wouldn't come back. He got tired so easy, he only had one hand to grip rock-faces with, he was stubborn... and the concern he'd not forgive her when she'd lash out with words she didn't really want to say after he'd return each time, lost as to how else she could vent how scared for him she'd been.

He nearly died within a week of hitting Pandora. A week.

She didn't like being far from him after, what if his heart started playing up again, what if he fell? What if he was having a weak spell and she wasn't around to pulse energy into his bones with a gentle squeeze of his cold hand in hers. What if he was pushing himself too hard while she was off-world, what if he wasn't sleeping so he could get that stupid stream recording finished for upload, he never listened! She couldn't trust him to stay safe, so she worried.

Always.

That never changed, but what she worried about did over time.

The fear turned sour - less a concern he was overworking and more he was slacking off. He'd not been meeting deadlines recently and she knew it was because he was getting lazy... what if he was whispering behind her back while she was touching base with Maliwan, plotting with his backstabbing Saints to usurp power to his own parasitical throne?

What if he was turning on her? What if he didn't love her the way she loved him anymore, what if he didn't care about their crusade, their holy right? What if he didn't believe she would reach the glory the universe owed her?

...What if he started saying no.

She worries about her twin constantly, and what would happen if he knew how important he really was.

Troy - his "Meds"

(tw: drug use)

The battered little tin is always in a pocket on his left.

Doesn't matter if he's in sweat-stained rags as he grapples with JK's vanguard in the barrack's arena, or full gold and silk regalia at an off world banquet, it's there, rattling quietly, just a hand's reach away if needed.

And when he needs it, he needs it.

The contents are an unorganised medley of chems. He doesn't plan or measure, that's the realm of addicts after all, and he ain't one regardless of what he's scared the people who know him might think. These are tools, not dependencies.

It's stocked with pressed pills and powder sachets stamped with bandit symbols based on instinct, how he's been feeling lately. What he's afraid will rise from the darkness.

The idea of not having it, not being able to run trembling fingers over the pitted surface as he hides the shake by slipping a hand into his coat when he's feeling off, is terrifying. It hadn't been that many years ago when the dented little box mostly contained painkillers and antibiotics, but that shifted over time. Now its purpose feels more sinister than holding back the waves of illness Pandora would throw at him. Now, the drugs help keep him him.

Mood stabilisers, anti depressants, tranquilisers. Hallucinogenic spore powder pressed into the God King's palm by a Bandit high priest with a bone carved mask and reverence in their touch. High quality Blow from that club he trashed in Promethea... The good shit, always clean, always sourced. He's a King - shady deals in alleyways are beneath what he's sweated blood to craft himself into.

Each hits different, clouds his brain and blow his pupils in unique sensations, and he knows his custom assortment by heart. Knows exactly which to snort in a private stall when he feels a rage that's not him creep up his spine in sponsor negotiations. Knows what pill to discretely pop under his tongue to calm the shakes that snake through his ribs on offworld trips, when the corporate suits around him have their bullshit begin to be drowned out by waves of hissing terror clutching at his guts.

"Anxiety", his specialist had said.

Bullshit.

He knows anxious. He knows anger. He knows fear... This is something else.

The drugs haze it away, uncoil the tendrils of something that's not Troy from his mind. Dull the link. Blur his sight and slow his heart - it's enough.

He hates that tin, but the worry of forgetting it one day keeps his hand slipping into that left pocket like a nervous tic, over and over and over.

The contents are probably killing him, but it doesn't matter, least it's his choice. Only Troy controls Troy.

Only he decides what act he plays.

There's no such fucking thing as ghosts.

Seifa - How she looks

It's a constant worry in the back of her mind when in public, that she's going to be outed. That the aesthetic she wears as Ur-Machina, or her sultry little trade-shark persona will fall apart and she'll be left a laughing stock.

The Sei she shows the world is a carefully curated version and that's how she's known.

That mask is how people recognise her character, it can't slip or it could mean people will see her for what she actually is, and THAT ain't acceptable in the slightest. Nuh-uh. She's been pretending to be someone of importance far too long now to let the reality of what a useless piece of junk she is be noticed.

She doesn't give a shit if it comes across as being vain, that's fine! That's easy to work with, part of the persona. Let them think the side glances at her reflection whenever she passes something shiny are outta pride, all she has to do is throw a quick smirk in and it's totally believable that she's checking herself out, not looking for mistakes.

Is her hair ok, does her foundation look rough? Jacket pulled up weird? Nah she's fine - good, check her skin next pass though cause she's feeling nervous and sweating off makeup doesn't do wonders when you're trying to come across as in control. Suck in the goddamn gut. Ass out, cock a hip - power stance. There we go.

She stresses ABOUT stressing about how much she worries.

Maybe it's not actually normal? She has no basis for comparison so can't be sure - this is how things have always been. This is how she survived, by knowing exactly how she needed to look to shift an outcome to her favor or broadcast a confidence that wasn't entirely real.

Keeps a sharp eye on friends, rivals, people she's interested by to see how they manage - does anyone else does this? Is it just her struggling so badly to keep a persona intact that other people don't even have to give a second thought to? She thinks it is... and that just makes her worry about it falling apart even more.

Sei isn't sure if who she is is the makeup and confidence she wears to match an outfit, or the person she is underneath when she's alone. Or, used to be when she was alone anyway, nowadays it's... nicer. Years together and slow steps they may not have noticed her tentatively making have helped her come to grips with how her friends seem to see her the same either way. She doesn't have to be groomed, dressed well, they see Seifa even if she's not sure she is.

Ven doesn't act differently if her hair is done or not, same way he's still Ven if he's in a coiffed updo or messy locks - she's still Sei to him if she's fully styled or looks like a Rakk nest, and it helped.

JK doesn't alter how they treat her regardless of a face of makeup or not, same Sei, same deep chuckled jokes from them or gentle wisdom on long night talks, it doesn't matter what face she's wearing, just like the mask they use has never changed who it belongs to for her.

Troy speaks to her with the exact same close respect or gentle mockery when she's in full ritual gear as when she's just standing in old socks and loose pajama pants she should have tossed years ago. She's not sure he even sees a difference really, or if what she is to him is something that's visual at all. Maybe she's an idea, or a presence. Maybe what Seifa is to him is what he feels when he sits close enough to accidentally brush against her side.

How he looks at her never shifts - it's her he's seeing, and she matters to him regardless of what role she's playing.

It's helped, having friends. Knowing they see her as what she is and not an act, but it's not changed the constant nervousness that goes hand in hand with acting in public as Saint Ur-Machina, or Seifa A'rosk.

Little steps... little steps.

[downwiththeficness]

In the Bond-Chapter 6

Summary: Lilah often wished she’d never said yes to working with the Gecko brothers—usually while dodging gunfire. At no time was she regretting that decision more than when she’s hanging upside down from the ceiling, staring down a group of hungry culebras and one (1) extremely powerful sun god.

Word Count: ~6,400

Warnings: Spitting (Kind of)

A/N: This is an AU of my Story In the Blood, which can be read here. Basically, this fic explores what would have happened if Lilah had met up with Geckos before she met Brasa.

Taglist: @symbiont13

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Lilah stared at the picture in front of her, memorizing the details of the staff. It was made of wood, intricately carved, and kept in a glass case.  The stand it sat upon was very likely pressurized, any change in weight would set off the alarm. There were no heat sensors in the display room, but there were motion sensors and a steady rotation of guards. Not super tricky, but not child’s play.

“Do you have blueprints of the building?” she asked, eyes looking to Brasa.

She’d been careful in how she looked at him for the entire meeting, not wanting to give away how she could still feel his lips ghosting across her skin. Though she hadn’t shared any more dreams with him, Lilah couldn’t keep her mind from going over how nice it felt to have his weight on her, how his hands (which she later realized were gloveless) felt as they coasted over her body.

“I do,” he replied, gesturing to Javier.

They were sitting in the vast room that served as Brasa’s office. Seth was standing next to the desk, going over the staffing schedule. Like most businesses, they had set shifts. Also like most businesses, their turnover rate was fairly high—the pay was definitely not enough to hold on to the more experienced or more talented staff.  This, of course, was all good for them.

Richie was sprawled in the chair next to her, “We got any of those explosives left?”

Lilah glanced at him, “Why? You want to blow a hold in the floor, drop the staff and its stand through to the bottom, and haul ass out through the sewer system?”

He smiled, lifting a shoulder, as if she’d perfectly described his thoughts. She took the blueprints from Javier and checked them over to see if they could make that work.

“As fun as that would be,” Lilah said, “and it would be pretty fun, the building doesn’t have an underground tunnel, sewer or otherwise. The foundation is too thick for that.”

“Well, damn,” Richie drawled, “Guess we’ll have to go with the old smash and grab.”

That wasn’t a bad idea, but Lilah hated to bring that kind of attention to them. It would not only set off the alarm, but the police station was less than three blocks away. Not a lot of time for their getaway. Better to do this nice and clean.

“Again, totally a fun idea, but not a smart one.”

Seth stood up, rubbing at the back of his neck, “Looks like we got about a half hour rotation for security. Plenty of time.”

It was plenty of time. There was no safe to crack, just a series of security measures to override. In some ways, that was more tricky. Lilah stared at the blueprints, her brain running over options.

“We’ll need a key card,” Richie prompted, sitting up and resting his forearms on his knees, “If we can get that, and the six digit passcode, we should be able to disable the system with no problem.”

She cut a look at him, “You have any ideas about how we can go about getting the card and code?”

He laughed, “Yeah.”

“Care to share with the class?”

“Knock out a guard, take the key card,” he explained, as if it were the easiest thing in the world, “There’s only one on-site during the evening hours.”

Not the worst plan.  To be fair, that was usually how their plans started out. Still, it left something to be desired.

“And the code?” She prompted lightly, setting the blueprints down on the desk in front of her.

“Oh, we’d threaten him first. Get the code that way.”

She blinked, “And if he’s lying.”

He paused, “Alright, we try the code first, then knock them out.”

Too messy.

Lilah gathered the photos she’d discarded in her lap and set them on the desk by the blueprints, “Maybe we get the code a couple days before, then wait until the gap in the rotation, break in, take the staff, and walk out.”

Richie smiled wide, “And, how do we get the code beforehand?”

That was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it? They were lucky the codes didn’t roll over randomly—just one code assigned to each guard and used whenever they were on shift. Low maintenance, but high risk for this kind of location.

Seth crossed his arms, “Richie, you still got a couple of those tiny cameras laying around?”

Richie had bought about a hundred of these little cameras for ‘security purposes’, putting them around the bar. The move had paid off when they caught one of the bartenders taking some extra cash from the till at the end of shift. He’d never let Seth forget about it.

“Yeah, I got a few.”

“Alright,” Seth said as he braced his hands on the desk, “Lilah, you’ll going in and plant one of them in  the line of sight of the keypad. We’ll monitor until we get the passcodes.”

Lilah observed him with a wry smile, “Look at you, making your way into the future.”

He rolled his eyes, but smiled, “Don’t get used to it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she replied dryly, her smile holding. It would take an act of God to get Seth to relinquish his way of doing things. Despite having an actual sun god in the room, Lilah was doubtful that she could get him to budge.

She rolled up the blueprints and handed them back to Javier with a nod of gratitude. He smiled wide at her, the expression self-satisfied. From across the desk, Brasa stood a little too quickly, a little growl cut off at the back of this throat.

“It seems you have this all in hand,” he said, a little too formally. “Lilah, I have the response to your edits in my personal library. If you’ll follow me.”

He turned and walked off towards a wall on the far side, hands tapping out a series of numbers on a pad situated on the wall. The smooth surface clicked open, and he pulled on it to reveal a hidden doorway. Impatiently, he looked back at her, a little nod indicating that she should hurry up.

With a click of her tongue, Lilah made her way towards him, moving through the doorway and into an incredibly dark hall. When Brasa pulled the door shut behind them, there was nothing to guide her way. Lilah felt her lungs draw in a shaky breath as she struggled to see. He stepped up and around her, taking her hand.

Lilah didn’t like the way she gripped the leather, didn’t like that she couldn’t see what was ahead. Still, she followed him until he slowed, the sound of keys being entered into a pad signaling that they’d come upon their destination.

When the door opened, he pulled her into a room that was lit with warm amber light. She blinked, her eyes adjusting. She knew this room. She knew the color of the walls, the texture of the ceiling, the feeling of the bed that dominated the space.

Already knowing the answer to the question, she asked, “Whose room is this?”

“Mine,” he replied, already moving to the far side and through an open door.

Lilah followed, feeling out of place. Awkwardly, she stood in the doorway and looked around the smaller, cozier room. Cast in dark wood and soft, sumptuous fabrics, the room was lined entirely with bookcases—floor to ceiling—that were absolutely stuffed with books.

Curious, she moved along the shelves nearest to her, hand skimming the tomes. There were languages she recognized and many that she didn’t. Her hands itched to pull them from the stacks and thumb through them. She wondered how long he had been collecting books, and how many of them filled this relatively small space.

At the center of the room was an overstuffed couch that sat opposite a desk with a computer and files scattered over it. Brasa was gathering paper and slipping it into one such folder, shoulders tense.

Lilah regarded him carefully, “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t spare her a look, tossing the file down and reaching for another, “I’m fine.”

“Yuh huh,” she said, “Seriously, what’s up with you? Five minutes ago, you were fine. Now, you’re...abusing office supplies.”

His expression, when he looked up at her, was incredulous, “What?”

“You’re throwing around files like they did something to you,” she couldn’t keep the laugh out of her voice.

His face hardened, and she could see the irises of her his eyes flicker. Lilah crossed her arms, waited. She’d found that if she waited a moment, he’d usually answer her, no matter the question. This seemed a good time to test that theory.

When her, admittedly small, patience ran out, she asked, “You going to tell me, or are you going to pout about it?”

“I’m not pouting,” he shot back, standing to his full height and circling the desk slowly.

She watched him warily, noting how tightly he was wound. He looked ready to lash out, and she was definitely in the line of fire. Irritated by his behavior, she shifted a little on her feet, unable to let it go.

“Well,” Lilah bit out, “You sure as shit aren’t talking about it.”

Slipping his hands into his pockets, Brasa gave a humorless laugh, “You are impossible.”

She sneered, “That’s the second time you’ve told me that. It wasn’t true before, its not true now.”

His glance skittered away, “I realize that this is new for you, but you are walking a thin line.”

Lilah repeated the last three words, her eyes narrowed in confusion, “What the fuck does that mean?”

When his eyes found hers again, there was anger there, and not a little betrayal, “Flirting with other males in front of me is not going to get the response you want.”

She was...still confused. After a few more seconds, she was pissed off. Lilah took a step towards him, her jaw clenched.

“Who the fuck was—you know what? No, that’s not the point. The point is that you think I’m the kind of person who would do something like that to get a rise out of you.” She took a step back, “No, I’m not the asshole, here. You are.” And then, “You can email me the edits, okay?”

Without waiting for an answer, Lilah walked as calmly (and quickly) as she could through his bedroom and out into the hall. In the dark, she cursed lowly and felt her way along until she reached the door, grateful that it was locked from this side and she didn’t have to wait for Brasa to key in the code.

Before she moved back into the office proper, Lilah took a deep breath and schooled her features. Her emotions were oscillating wildly from shock, to incredulity, to anger that burned hot in her belly. She hadn’t done a single thing wrong, and to be accused of...she didn’t even know what, made her want to blow something up. Damn shame that she’d already used all the explosives. Lilah took another calming breath.

With a well placed lie, she managed to get through the next few minutes of packing up. She was careful to keep conversation going on the way home, even stayed at the bar for a drink. Lilah gave nothing away as she quietly seethed. It wouldn’t do any good to vent this kind of frustration—not that she could really tell anyone.  Her personal relationship with Brasa was still secret, and she wasn’t going to upset the delicate balance that she’d set up with a childish outburst—unlike some people.

Lilah spent the evening vowing to hold this grudge as long as she could stand it, her fury remaining at a low simmer in her belly. When her phone vibrated in her pocket, she opened a text message from an unknown sender asking her to talk. She deleted it, focusing on the job she’d been contracted to perform.

Three days later, she was sitting in a van parked a block or so away from the museum, checking the comms.

“Everyone hear me?”

Seth’s voice sounded, “We can hear you. Now, shut up for a minute while I get this lock open.”

They had to do things the old fashioned away for the outer locks on the back door, no key code security measures. Lilah had rolled her eyes at the excited look on Seth’s face as he threw down his lock picks onto the table where they’d rolled out the blueprints Javier had loaned them.

From over the line, she heard Seth make an approving grunt, the sound of the door opening a moment after.

“We’re through the first set of doors.”

Lilah nodded, eyes on the computer in her lap, “Guard is starting his rotation. He’s just left the office.”

“Ten minutes for a full round,” Richie murmured, “I’ve clocked it.”

Again, she nodded, “I started the timer. Get in the office, cut the security feed.”

The museum had upgraded to digital a while back, but their servers only uploaded once an hour. She checked the clock. They had three minutes until upload. She watched Seth and Richie approach the office and bypass it for the server room. Two minutes. They were moving leisurely, almost sauntering through the hall. Wasting time.

“Pick up the pace,” she said.

“We’re on it, princess,” Seth retorted.

“Then get going” Lilah shot back in sing-song. “You’re down to a minute, fifteen seconds.”

On the screen, they found the server, and slipped the USB she’d made for them into the drive. Thirty seconds left. Lilah switched screens, watching the little yellow bar make its way from left to right. Fifteen seconds. The bar went green and she smiled.

“Server’s crashing,” she confirmed lowly. “Get out of there.”

With a salute to a camera that wasn’t recording, Seth grabbed Richie from where he was looking at the electronics, hauling him towards the next checkpoint. They would have to wait until the guard crossed back to the office, turn off the motion sensors, and get the staff out of the case.

That was the tricky part. The case was bolted down to its stand, and they couldn’t risk the sound of a drill alerting the guard.  They’d have to manually unscrew the case, hold down the weight sensor, lift the staff, replace it with the dummy weight, close the case, and get back to the checkpoint before the guard made their next round. Thirty minutes was a long time, but there was a lot to do.

“Guard’s coming,” Lilah warned.

They ducked behind a corner as the guard passed, Richie watching him discreetly. When it was safe, they circled around to the next room where the staff was on exhibit. Motion sensors disabled. On to the case.

Lilah appreciated how efficient they were, when they were focused. Moving as a single unit, they worked their way around the case, wrenches in hand, making quick work of it. Once they had it off, Seth reached into the bag they’d brought with them and held up the staff they’d created as a temporary replacement.

Richie had spent a few hours putting it together, and from a distance it looked pretty good. It would, at least, buy them enough time to get away and make the two hour flight back to Mexico. With any luck, it would be a few days before they figured it out. Lilah didn’t count on it. She’d booked a flight within an hour of when they were going to finish the job. No bags to check. Straight through security and onto the plane.

Lilah watched as Richie slipped a knife over the pressure sensor, his other hand nimbly plucking the staff from the stand. Seth carefully set the replica into place, both men holding very still as Richie pulled the knife free.  After a second or two where both looked to be holding their breath, Richie stuffed the staff into the bag as Seth replaced the case. Screws ratcheted back into place, motion sensors reactivated.

“Don’t forget the camera,” Lilah prompted, laughing when Seth scoffed and spun on his heel, snagging the device and pocketing it on the way down the hall.

“Guard’s on his round,” she whispered, “Get to the hallway. Now.”

Moving quickly, Seth rounded the corner, barely clearing it before the guard stepped into the room. They hustled back the way they came and out into the alley, locking the door behind them. Lilah closed down the computer and threw it in the backseat of the van, turning over the ignition. A few minutes later, the sliding door was opened and both men jumped inside. The van was already moving before they got the door closed again.

“Without a hitch,” Richie drawled as he relaxed in his seat.

Seth smiled at his brother, “That was good work.”

“We’re not done yet,” Lilah called back, “Still have to get it across the border.”

“Ah,” Seth sighed, “That’s the beauty of it. The postal system is going to do all the hard work for us.”

Reaching back, he pulled the prepped box from the third row of seats. He snapped at Richie, who handed him the bag. Into the box went the staff, with a little bubble wrap for protection. A little packing tape, and it was all sealed up and ready to go.

Lilah pulled off to the side and into the parking lot of the mail center, watching as Seth hopped out of the van and dropped the package into the chute. It would be at the bar within a few days. Easy peasy.

She slept on the plane, an alarm set for sunrise. Since she’d last seen him, Lilah had refused to sleep during the day, and only for a few hours at a time. It made her irritable and a little foggy, but she didn’t want to see him. Whenever she thought about their last interaction, Lilah got angry all over again. She’d take a little hit to her functioning to have their next meeting be completely on her terms.

Lilah had gone over the conversation a hundred times, wondering how he’d gotten the impression that she’d been trying to goad him by flirting with—she actually couldn’t figure out which male he’d been concerned about. Best she could figure, he was working off an old framework, the power imbalance between himself and his queen. That wasn’t going to fly, not with her. She had too much going on to deal with a partner (was he even her partner?) who’d go off half-cocked at the slightest feeling of jealousy. No. Lilah had other shit to deal with.

It was with regret that she knew she would have to go and speak with him. Lilah couldn’t avoid him forever—she snorted at the thought—things would have to be cleared up eventually. Besides, she needed to get back to her sleep schedule if she was going to be of any use to anyone. Better to rip this metaphorical Band-Aid off quickly, and soon.

Arguing that she had to deliver the next draft of the treaty, Lilah stashed the staff in the back seat of her car and headed out into the dying sun. The two hour drive gave her enough time to work out what she was going to say. First, she was going to demand an apology. Lilah deserved that much. Then, she was going to discuss boundaries for the future. That seemed like the adult thing to do.  Lilah congratulated her self at how mature the plan sounded in her head. Reality, however, wasn’t quite so easy.  

As she pulled into the parking lot, Lilah debated leaving the staff in the elevator to be found by whoever might be walking by and hauling ass back to the bar. That, unfortunately, would put the covering of their expenses (for which she had receipts) at risk. She’d never live it down if she came back empty handed. So, into the elevator she went.

In the carriage, Lilah felt warmth crawl up her side. She sneered to the ceiling, “Stop it.”

It stopped.

Steeling herself, Lilah stepped into the red light and headed for the bar. Brasa already knew she was here, so all she had to do was sit and wait for him to come to her. She pushed up onto a bar stool and set leaned the staff next to her legs. When the bartender approached, she ordered a bourbon, watching him pour the shot. When she tried to pay, he waved her off, telling her it was on the house.

Suspicious, she pocketed the cash and picked up the glass, sniffing. Nothing smelled off with it, so she took the tiniest sip. Tasted fine. She set it down. Suspicious. Lilah very rarely got free drinks, her looks too severe, her manner too cold. To be fair, that was her preference most of the time. Lilah didn’t have the energy or the patience to fend off advances from drunken men.

A shadow appeared beside her, but it was too cold to be the person she was waiting for. Lilah looked up, unsmiling.

“Can I help you?”

The man flashed his teeth, “I’m Benny.”

Lilah continued to look at him, unamused.

Uninvited, he sat, leaning an arm on the bar top, “You’re not what I expected.”

She debated answering him, a half dozen cutting remarks flying through her mind. In the end, she settled for turning her attention to her drink and ignoring him. Best course of action, really. Lilah needed to save all her quips for the person she was actually mad at.

“You don’t talk much, do you?”

At this Lilah rolled her eyes, fixing the guy with a look that said, ‘what the fuck do you think?’

His expression grew still, and she could see the glint of his game face, though he worked to control it. He growled, his hand grasping her arm above the elbow. The grip was painful, and Lilah only just managed to keep her expression cool as she felt the very real danger he presented to her. She was armed, both gun and knife, but she was technically in enemy territory. Starting a fight with one might mean starting a fight with all.  Her eyes scanned the room, too many possible enemies nearby.  

She’d have to talk her way out.

Heat pushed at her back.

Or not.

Benny let her go, sliding off the stool and taking a step away. Lilah craned her neck to confirm what she already knew.

“Oh, thank God,” she murmured, reaching down and picking up the staff, “I got what you asked for.”

Brasa’s attention was on the culebra who was backing away. He stared them down for a few more seconds before his eyes turned to her. Lilah held up the staff, shaking it from side to side a little.

He glanced at the staff, glanced at her, then turned, “Come with me.”

Lilah stared at his back for a second before she sighed and followed him through to his public office. There was no conversation as they traversed the stone pathway towards his desk. When he reached it, Brasa leaned his hips back on the desktop, gloved hands folded in front of him.

Wordlessly, Lilah handed him the staff. He took it, held it in both hands for barely a moment before setting it aside. For as much effort as he was going through to get ahold of it, he certainly didn’t look pleased to actually have it in his possession.

Unable to take more silence, Lilah said the only thing she could think of, “For the record, I wasn’t flirting with him, either.”

First shot fired. Lilah shifted on her feet in preparation for return fire.

Eyes dropping down and to the side, Brasa pushed his hands into his pockets and released a heavy sigh, “I regret how I reacted last time we spoke.”

Well, that was unexpected. Lilah had expected him to double down on it, not express regret. Still, that wasn’t an apology. It did, however, take the edge of her anger.

Lips pursed, she replied, “I’m sure you do.”

Another sigh. It looked like she was going to have to take lead on this, if she wanted a resolution. Lilah very deliberately did not think about why she might want resolution as opposed to giving him the eternal cold shoulder.

“Hey,” she began, holding up her hands, “You can’t get angry any time I’m nice to anyone around me. I have work to do, and that involves having good relationships. Jealousy is not a good look.”

He nodded, “I am unused to these feelings and I am struggling to control them.”

A good explanation, but not an excuse for the behavior.

“That’s okay,” Lilah responded, taking a step forward, “But you need to talk with me about them and not...make assumptions.”

Another nod, “I’m sorry.” There was her apology. “I will try.”

She saw it for what it was, a gesture of good faith. Mollified by his words, Lilah’s shoulders dropped. She hadn’t realized how much tension she’d been holding in her body for the last few days. And now, she didn’t quite know what to do with all the built up anger. Suddenly, she was very tired.

“Good,” she said, “Let’s call it rule number one: if something is bothering us, we’ll talk about it.”

At this, he stood up straighter, his eyes finally finding hers, “I can do that.”

“Okay.”

“Are you going to continue blocking me?” He asked in a small voice.

Brows together, Lilah responded lamely, “Blocking?”

He shrugged, “I haven’t been able to feel you while you were acquiring the staff. I worried.”

Ah. Lilah wondered if he’d picked that up. Of course he had.

“I’m sorry,” She said reflexively, “I needed a little space.”

He licked his lips, eyes regretful. Lilah felt a stab of remorse in her chest. She hadn’t meant to make him worry, she just needed to take a little time for herself to work out her feelings. And, she couldn’t do that if she could feel him with her in the interim. Still, she could also make a gesture of good faith.

“Alright,” she breathed, moving closer to him, “Rule number two, if we talk about it, we won’t block each other out of spite.”

Looking placated, Brasa reached out and took her hands, “I’m glad you are safe.”

“Me, too,” Lilah laughed, “There was no danger. We got in and out with no problems.”

He shook his head, “That isn’t the danger I’m worried about. The culebra out there? Benny? He’s been stirring the others up. He knows who you are to me, and I don’t put it past him to strike out at you to get to me.”

Setting aside the question of how Benny figured out that Lilah was bonded to Brasa, she took a minute to think, “Should I pull a weapon next time?”

He smirked, “You’re a terrible shot.”

“I didn’t say it would be a gun.”

“Oh?”

“I still have my knife. I did alright with the last guy. Got him twice before he threw me through the window.”

Brasa winced, “The point is that he was able to throw you through a window before I got there.”

“That is a good point,” Lilah said seriously, though she could feel a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

He rolled his eyes, “Be serious.”

“I am,” she shot back, “I can handle myself in a fight. Usually.”

That was only half a lie. Lilah could handle herself with humans, most of the time. She’d been struggling to hold her own in a fight with a culebra ever since she’d first come up against them. But, he didn’t need to know that.

Deciding that she needed to change the subject, Lilah nodded to the staff, “What do you need it for, anyway?”

He drew he a little closer, expression serious, “I intend to close the portal between this world and Xibalba, so that no others like me come through it.”

She blinked, “Like you?”

Brasa hummed in confirmation, standing and leading her to the side where the secret door was open and waiting.

“Culebras were slaves there, treated as slaves, culled when needed,” he explained, stepping into the dark hallway. “Xibalbans are, as a whole, selfish creatures—destructive, vain, apathetic. Despite my birth status, I experienced what it was like to be subservient to them for many centuries. I don’t want this world to see that kind of pain.”

Lilah listened quietly, walking with him into his bedroom and through to his library where she sat on the couch at his side.

“I’ve done a lot of research,” he continued, “With the relics you acquire for me, I can close the veil permanently.”

She waited a few seconds to make sure he wasn’t going to explain further, then said, “I’m completely on board with this plan.”

He smiled, “I thought you might be.”

“How many more relics to I need to get?”

Brasa laid his arm over the back of the couch, “Three. A cup, a book, and a knife.”

“Sounds easy enough.”

“It could be,” he replied, reaching out to trace along her jaw, “I still worry for you. I think I always will.”

She could feel the heat of his body beneath the leather, and she found that she wanted to feel his hands—for real, this time, instead of vague remnants from a dream. In the moments of quiet, her skin remembered what it was like to be caressed by those hands, to feel his fingers curl around her.

“Why do you wear the gloves?”

His hand dropped, his head pulling back. Lilah regretted her words immediately, but he stopped her when she made to apologize.

“You know I’ve killed people,” he said plainly, “My queen, she made me do things that I couldn’t say no to. At first, I thought I was doing the right thing. I believed in it. In the end, I think I did it because I enjoyed it.” He looked down at his hands, “I guess I felt like if I didn’t touch them, if I didn’t feel it as I killed them, I could put distance between what I am and what I was made to do.”

Lilah was quiet a long time. He wouldn’t look at her. She could see the shame on his face, in the slump of his shoulders. She made a decision.

With deliberate slowness, she picked up his hand, saying, “I think we need to make new memories with these hands, then.”

Checking to make sure he was okay with it, Lilah very carefully pulled the glove off. His hand was a nice, normal hand. No scars, neatly trimmed nails, a wide palm with surprisingly fine boned fingers. Watching his face, she lifted it and placed it on her cheek, the warmth seeping in immediately. Lilah held it there, letting him feel.

He swallowed audibly, thumb swiping over her cheekbone. The touch was soft, delicate, testing. With just as deliberate a pace, Lilah pulled the glove off the other hand, placing it on the opposite cheek. He was breathing hard, eyes unfocused, plush lips parted. She could see the way his pupils were dilating, taking over the iris and bleeding a little into the white.

Lilah didn’t know why she did it, but instinct had her moving closer, swinging a leg over his hips and pushing him into the back of the couch. He kept his grip on her cheeks, letting her settle into his lap. Lilah dropped her forehead onto his, eyes half lidded. His body was fire hot beneath her, and she could tell that he was itching to move, yet he remained docile.

Letting the moment expand between them, Lilah touched her nose to his, bumping it affectionately. He smiled, his hands pushing into her hair.

“See?” she prompted gently, “New memories.”

He nodded even as he lifted up to kiss her, his hands holding her steady as he slipped his tongue inside for a taste. Lilah ran her hands down his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he kissed her nearly senseless.  The scent of him, the way his arms wrapped around her middle and held her tight, the taste, it all mixed together in a way that made her lightheaded.

Brasa jerked back, pulling away even further when Lilah made to follow him. She panted, blinking as she took in the black of his eyes, the fangs that had descended. He hadn’t nicked her, she couldn’t taste blood, but she did notice a strange tingling on her lips, over her tongue.

“What?”

He ran his tongue over his lips, “I can’t kiss you like this.”

Her brows furrowed, “Because of your teeth?”

Mouth twitching, he shook his head, “Because of the venom.”

She drew in a breath, “I have no idea what to do with that information.”

He touched her mouth ever so gently, “Kissing you is arousing, Lilah.”

“Uh huh,” she said, nipping at the pad of his forefinger, “That’s kind of the point.”

Hand dropping, Brasa searched for words, “The muscle that controls the venom is reflexive, I can’t control it. Kissing you… like this...you’re very likely to ingest the venom.”

“And,” Lilah prompted, following his line of thought, “You think I’ll suffer from some of the effects.”

“Yes.”

They were going to have to get past this, sooner or later. Lilah voted for sooner.

Settling further into his embrace, Lilah cupped his jaw, leaning into his space, “Are you likely to be aroused any time we kiss for more than a moment?”

Eyes bright, he nodded, “Very likely, I think.”

“Then,” she reasoned in an even tone, “You’re going to settle for quick little kisses for the rest of our relationship?”

To give him an example to go by, Lilah dropped down and pressed a soft, but fleeting kiss to his mouth.  He tried to lean up to get at her again, but she pushed him down, surprised by how willingly he submitted to the motion.

“I mean,” she continued, giving him another quick kiss, “If that’s what you want,” she kissed him harder, but just as quick, “I can try to accommodate you.”

He looked so torn, sitting underneath her weight, hands rubbing at her hips, pulling her into the hard planes of his body. Lilah might have had mercy on him if she thought he would get over his hesitation on his own. Deliberately, she gathered all the bravado she had in her body, using it to do what might normally make her feel too vulnerable.

“You know what that means, though, right?” she breathed, her mouth barely brushing against his, “No deep kisses, no sliding my tongue against yours,” she carded her hands back into his hair, pulling gently and reveling in the little contented moan he made. Then, she went in for the kill, “And definitely no biting.”

Brasa flinched, and she knew she had him. His grip on her hips tightened to near pain, his body rigid. Biting was so deeply ingrained in his kind, a need so deeply held, that to deny it was unthinkable. Lilah knew this, and she was definitely above using it.

She released her hold on his hair, palms on either cheek, “Do you want that?”

“No,” he rasped, a low growl building in his chest.

Smiling, she asked, “Then, what are we going to do about it?”

He looked at a loss, “I don’t know.”

Lilah thought for a moment, half a plan already formed, “You said I could ingest the venom and feel its effects. Is that better than a bite?”

Hesitation, then a curt nod.

“Okay then,” she said lightly, “How about we start with that? We can work up to a bite when you feel more comfortable.”

Lilah had no idea when she’d become so relaxed about him kissing her, biting her, and all the things that went along with that act. What she did know was she wasn’t going to sit stagnant, waffling about the rightness of it. Lilah wanted more kisses, and that was enough for her.

When she moved to kiss him, he pulled back a little, shifting to the side. Lilah, off balance, fell to the cushions. He crawled over her, hips settling between her thighs, though he held most of his weight on his arms. She laughed softly, letting her body relax into the couch.

“Just a little,” he urged, expression eager, “To start. To see how you do with it.”

Willing to let him experiment, Lilah nodded, chin tilting up with the gentle pressure his his hand.

“Open,” he whispered, his mouth hovering over hers.

Lilah’s lips parted, her eyes falling closed. She felt his jaw flex, felt little drops fall onto her tongue. They were hot, like the rest of him, rolling over her taste buds to burn down the back of her throat. She swallowed reflexively, taking whatever he was willing to give her in that moment.

When he lifted a little, Lilah opened her eyes to see him searching her face. She didn’t quite get why he was so nervous—he’d told her that the venom wasn’t harmful, that the effects were pleasing. Still, she was charmed by the concern.

And then the tingles started. Over the length of her tongue, her lips, the inside of her cheeks, down her neck and into the pit of her belly. Little tingles everywhere, as if she were covered in little tickling bubbles. Lilah huffed out a breath, grinning.

“Good?”

She nodded, “Very good.”

Though clearly pleased, his face was serious, his gaze looking her over and clocking every little movement.

She said his name to capture his full attention, “This is nice.”

His mouth kicked up on one side, “Wait until it peaks.”

“Peaks?”

Brasa hummed a little, pushing hair away from her face, his touch light. A moment later and she knew what he meant. The pleasant tickle turned into a searing burn of pleasure, her muscles going lax and nerves firing sporadically. She let out a startled yelp, her hands coming up to dig into his broad shoulders.

“Hush, querida,” he murmured, hands running along her sides.

As quick as it rose, so did the feeling subside. Lilah was left sucking in air as she gained control of her limbs again. She wiped sweat from her forehead, her hand trembling.

Staring up into his carefully guarded eyes, Lilah gave him a soft smile, “That’s a good start, I think.”

[nimmy22]

A Mistake: Chapter 5

"Our encounters will only end once I say so. Now, answer this. Why were you limping?" Wesker watched through his shades as she flinched when his hand came to rest on her injured leg. He found this development displeasing. Someone trespassed on his right to be the only one to hurt her, to use her, to kill her. And correction was in order.

"What's it to you?" Cara hissed, slapping his hand away.

"Wrong answer dearheart, let's try again." His hand found her leg once more, and this time he gave a not-so-gentle squeeze. He flashed his pearly whites with a smirk, watching her grimace and suck a sharp breath. "Why were you limping?"

"I fell... down some s-stairs and hurt my...leg," she cried, looking away from him.

Wanting things over quickly, she hoped he would lose interest and leave her be. Why would he even care if someone laid a hand on her? Especially when he was still wavering between hot and cold on whether to kill her or not. If someone killed her, then Wesker should consider it a time well saved. She was beyond confused by this.

"Fell? Are you sure?" Wesker frowned, removing his shades. Cara had no idea why he even wore them while presenting...indoors. They seemed to be a permanent fixture on his face, but at least he took them off in the rain. She mentally kicked herself for spending a second analyzing the fashion sense of a corrupt officer. It will certainly not prolong her life.

Wesker suddenly drifted closer to her face with scrutinizing eyes. "I suppose you also hit your head in the fall?" He said before putting pressure over the bruise on her head. The more she struggled to turn her head, the harder he applied the pressure. She cursed her cheap foundation for having melted off within so little time, likely exposing her bruise. The humid weather wasn't helping her situation either, aiding the cream to melt off her skin.

"Stop it! It hurts. Please, I answered your question. what do you want now?"

Not many dared to bluntly lie to Wesker, and those who did were now entertaining earthly maggots as a free buffet. The little girl lied to him without shame, leaving him with the urge to loosen his collar as his blood began to simmer. He had to restrain himself, not wanting to smash.... his shades.

"Do you take me for a fool? You forget you're still dealing with a cop, and I can certainly tell the difference between physical violence and injuries from a fall. I've dealt with countless domestic violence and child abuse cases. Now, answer the question before I rip off those pants to confirm." Wesker growled, punching the garbage bin centimeters from her head. She squeaked like a mouse, shielding her head with her arms, folding into a fetal position. Peeking through her fingers, Cara spotted the dent he left in the metal and audibly swallowed. He could crush her skull if he wanted to and why he has yet to do so is beyond her.

"Ok fine! It was...my...dad, h-he...hit me. Happy now? But whose parents don't bring out the belt every now and then? It's not that big of a deal." Cara slanted her body away from him and fidgeted with her sleeve. Until this point, she had never admitted to anyone what went on at home behind closed doors. Not even her closest friend knew a thing. But she was forced to disclose one of her deepest secrets to this bastard just because he asked her nicely.

"I see." Wesker stood up, pondering something for a moment before walking back towards the school doors. Pausing by the door, he spoke without looking at her. "Clean yourself up and go back to the assembly. Then after that, I want you to walk across the street to the laundromat's parking lot. You will wait there for me."

"Why?" Cara swallowed, a cold feeling creeping over her like a heavy blanket. Wesker didn't answer, as he was already gone, and she was met with the sound of doors slamming shut. With a sigh, she wiped her tear-streaked cheeks with her clammy hands.

Raising to her wobbly feet, Cara straightened out her clothes, doing her best to clear the dust. There was no way to reduce the puffy eyes. She decided to play it off as being devastated for the poor boy who ended up an overcooked steak.

She was definitely in over her head, but without a choice, she was forced to do what he wanted. He already knew pretty much everything about her, her home, school, and family issues.

--------------

"You sure you don't want a ride home?" Claire said, hugging her friend tightly and being a major cause for much discomfort. She somehow managed to touch all Cara's painful bruises all at once, completely unaware. The two stood in the school parking lot, finished with school for the day.

"I'm fine, Claire, really. I just had a weak moment. Don't worry about me. I just need to have a little walk with some thinking time."

"I can come with,"

"No!" Cara jerked back before realizing what she did. Claire blinked, staring at her friend with her mouth open. "Oh shit, sorry. I mean...I want to...be alone for a while. You should go annoy your brother at work. He'll appreciate that."

"Are you ok? You're acting weird, not just today but this whole week. What's going on?" Cara felt more beads of sweat forming on her forehead with each question Claire asked. She needed to get away before she said something she shouldn't have.

"I'm fine, I swear. You're just reading too much into things." Cara said, backing away from her friend.

"Cara!" Claire called out, watching Cara hurry across the street. "What the heck is going on," she wondered aloud.

Claire was about to follow her when a hand roughly grabbed her shoulder. She spun around, ready to snap the fingers of the fool who dared grab her in such a manner.

"Miss Redfield, great seeing you." Wesker greeted her, his grip on her shoulder unmoving. Her eyes widened as she recognized the fool being her brother's boss.

"Oh...Captain Wesker. Um...Great presentation." Claire said, trying to shrug out of his hold. He let go, but very slowly. She didn't know why he was interacting with her this long. The most she ever got from Wesker was a nod or asking where Chris went after abandoning his desk for half an hour when he should've been doing paperwork. The answer was tacos she made herself and brought to the station for Chris.

"Thank you. I'm just hoping at least a few students will hold onto my words." Wesker responded, discreetly watching through his shades as Cara disappear from view. He simply couldn't have a foolish Redfield ruining his plans. "So where are you headed off to?"

"Uh... I was just about to head home," she said, pointing her thumb over to her motorcycle.

"Drive home safely. Wouldn't want your brother distracted on the job now, would we?" They both knew Chris would get distracted regardless, but she didn't like his tone when talking about her brother.

"No, of course not," Claire gave him a sweet smile, flapping him the bird behind her back. "Have a nice day, Captain Wesker."

"You as well, Miss Redfield." Wesker walked away, heading across the parking lot to his cruiser before driving off.

With a long sigh, Claire looked back to the direction her friend had run off to, but she was already long gone. Claire groaned, promising herself that she was not about to let this go. She owed Cara to be a good friend and help her sort out whatever she was going through. The next time she saw Cara, they were going to have a very good talk.

-----------------

Cara stood in the parking lot of the laundromat, fidgeting with the zipper of her jacket. The little piece of metal was already bent in two places from her abuse. She was alone, the place had closed down months ago, its owner was an elderly lady who passed away. She had no children to inherit it, and so the place had to shut its doors. It would make sense why Wesker would want to pick her up here. Students had no reason to crowd this property, having a plaza on the other side of the road abundant in fast-food joints and an arcade.

The temperature hadn't changed drastically since the morning. Yet, she found herself shivering in her jacket and hugging it closer to her body. Her eyes kept darting about, dreading the imminent interaction. She hated the waiting, but she didn't want to find out what he had in store for her.

Wesker drove into the parking lot, eyes zeroed in on the pitiful creature shivering alone and looking misplaced. Good thing he was here to 'help her out.' He thoroughly enjoyed how she nearly bolted upon spotting the car. He stopped next to her and waited.

Cara waited for him to emerge from the car or to roll down a window to tell her what he wanted. He did neither of those things, and so she shut her eyes for a moment before taking a deep breath and reaching for the door handle of the passenger seat. Still saying nothing, she slid into the seat before shutting the door as hard as she could. Between them, the air freshener swung back and forth with greater momentum charged by the thick atmosphere.

"So nice of you to find the time for me, dearheart. I am flattered."

"Of course, With whom else could I see myself spending time?" she didn't bother asking where they were headed, knowing how far questions seemed to set her back with him.

They pulled up to a simplistic two-story home, its lawn cleanly kempt but lacking any other colorful vegetation. She couldn't help but think it was the end of the road for her when the garage door sealed shut behind them.

Leaving the car, he walked into the house, depositing his keys on a bowl by the door. Cara followed close behind but far enough to dodge an attack, or so she hoped. Walking by the deposited keys, her fingers itched to grab them, make a run for it, but her brain didn't feel like making the deadly mistake so soon into the day or... week. Biting her bottom lip, she followed him into the living room.

Like the outside of the house, the inside lacked color, instead opting for white and shades grey. All in all, it looked like the kind of place that will get very messy if someone were to get murdered in it. But that didn't put her at ease. She still had no idea what he wanted.

Cara's fingers were inches from touching a plain white vase when Wesker finally spoke. "Welcome to my home."

She snatched her hand back so fast, her shoulder almost popped out of its socket. She opened her mouth several times, but nothing came out.

"You...live here?" Finally, she managed to form a few words.

"I do not like repeating myself, but yes, I live here. Stay here. I will be back." Wesker left Cara in the living room, making his way upstairs. Passing several doors, he came across one that streamed a golden light from beneath. Knocking three times, pausing, and then twice more, he waited for the response. He smiled, hearing the sound of four subsequent knocks and a scratching sound. This was their code, a living memory of his army days.

The door opened and smiling up at him was Sherry. He accepted her into his open arms before picking her up. "Your back, uncle Albert."

"Yes, and I brought you a really nice present."

"What is it! ...a puppy?"

"No, try again."

"Is it a dinosaur? A game? A dress? A book? Is it edible?" Sherry filled her bubble with guesses, eyes twinkling. She rubbed her hands together as if the friction could make the surprise appear faster. She had been alone all day and bored out of her mind.

Wesker shook his head at her simple thinking but enjoyed her expressions.

Walking into the living room, Wesker felt Sherry's gasp shake her whole body. "Cara!" the little girl squeaked before jumping out of the older man's grasp. She raced to her babysitter, unable to believe her eyes.

Cara's expression transformed from a scowl to a tender smile upon noticing Sherry, eyes brimming with tears.

The little girl snuggled against Cara, relishing the comforting scent of her friend. Truly, she thought she was in heaven. "Thank you, Uncle Albert! This the greatest surprise ever!" Sherry beamed at her uncle, half her face smushed against Cara's chest.

"And it gets even better. Cara agreed to come play with us every day right after school." Wesker burst Cara's bubble with a rusted pin, killing all hope of escape.

Cara's smile immediately fell. She shot daggers at the older man who merely took a seat on the couch, legs spread wide apart as he rested his arms over the back of the couch.

"Really? I can't believe it! I am so happy. We can do so many things, Cara, not just on Friday nights."

"Y-you can't-" Cara stuttered, struggling against herself to end the happiness of a little girl. To Cara, disappointing Sherry was a terrifying thing, especially if she the very cause of it.

"Why don't you take her to play in your room?" Sherry was already leading Cara before the dirty cop finished his sentence.

"Wait, Sherry. You go on up, and I will um...come to play in a few minutes. I just need to talk to...Uncle Albert for a sec." Cara spat his name.

"Ok!" Sherry said, bouncing on her feet, and ran upstairs. Once the little girl's giggles grew distant, she turned to Wesker who was already watching her with the eyes of a lazy predator. His shades sat in front of him on the coffee table, neatly folded.

Cara couldn't help the tingling shiver as he watched her. She gathered her courage and stood up straight, forcing her nerves down before speaking, "What if I don't want to continue the job?"

Wesker laughed at the ridiculous proposal.

"And break the poor girl's heart? She has consistently asked for you every day, more so than for her own parents. Where is Cara? Is she ok? Can I visit her?"

"Stop using her against me! I don't want to get involved more than I already have with you."

"Sherry experienced horrible things that night, all because of who her parents are. So, if she wants her delicious babysitter back, then she will have her back. Simple." Wesker knew which buttons to press to get her to do exactly what he wanted. The fear factor wasn't everything, and it wouldn't last long. He knew she loved his niece like a little sister, and he will use that to secure a tight collar over her neck.

'A delicious babysitter.' For some reason, these words stood out to Cara, and she found herself unable to formulate a coherent sentence, feeling the temperature of the room rise rapidly.

"But why does it have to be here? In your house?"

"As much as I support my dear friend William, he can be a little too preoccupied with his work and often becomes disengaged from the outside world. He forgot to call anyone to fix the damages, and so the house has yet to be repaired. Until it's ready, Sherry will stay here, that is unless she chooses to stay indefinitely, which I don't mind at all. It's always too quiet around here."

Seeing no way out of this, Cara begrudgingly walked upstairs, defeat weighing down her steps. Her mood brightened a little while playing with Sherry, but she couldn't put her whole heart into it. Her choice was taken away, and she couldn't live with that. But in the end, she had to be grateful as this was still better than being murdered and stuffed into a dumpster or buried alive.

For now, she will do her best to make Sherry happy. The little girl has been through a lot already.

----------------

Hours later, Cara stood in front of the sink, swirling the cool water in her glass before gulping it down. She was halfway through the water when she felt something warm, soft, and feather-like touch the back of her neck. She spun around to see Wesker walking away, the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips. She barely registered the icy water spilling on her clothes as she realized what happened. Her stomach weaved knots, pulling them too tight to undo.

Wesker had kissed her neck. And then he just walked away as if nothing happened. This had to be the strangest trick her mind could play on her. Or was it? There was simply no way a man like him will ever be interested in her. Never.

It felt like a terrible joke, and yet, she found her hand touching her neck, a rosy blush making its way.

[artificialqueens]

Come Home to My Heart, Chapter 2 (Lemyanka) - Plastiquedoll

read on ao3 ✨| chapter 1

A/N: hiii, this is chapter 2 of this lemyanka childhood friends, friends to lovers, idiots to lovers whatever you wanna call it. I really wanted to play with the time skips to show different parts of their lives together throughout the years so this is a continuation from chapter 1 a few years later. thanks for reading <3

-2-

At the age of thirteen, there were many things Priyanka loved. The list included: electric blue glittery nail polish, writing her name with a golden pen, pop music and girl groups-especially Britney Spears and The Spice Girls-, any movie with Lindsay Lohan in it, acting in the school productions -especially if she got the main role-, sleepovers over Lemon’s house where they secretly watched The O.C., seeing films with Lemon without an “adult” with them, re-acting scenes of the Cheetah Girls movie with Lemon…

She was at Lemon’s a lot.

The thing was, Lemon was the only child of her parent’s marriage, her parents both worked, and most of the time she had the house on her own. For Priyanka -who lived with her siblings and her parents and couldn’t spare one second of privacy at her own home- it was like paradise. They did everything together, on the weekdays they did homework together and afterward, they would lay in the blonde’s room reading magazines and cutting pictures of celebrities and clothes they liked, or listen to a new CD they had been saving for weeks to buy for hours until they knew the lyrics by heart.

Her room had yellow walls -big shocker- and it was covered in posters and pictures with Priyanka, white carpet on the floor, and a mix of Barbie dolls and makeup over the boudoir. She also had a large single bed only for herself with like a million fluffy pillows they had shared more than once.

Lemon had ballet classes three times per-week and Priyanka had rehearsals with the drama club but those were the only moments they were apart. Being childhood friends, their parents got into the obligation of sending them to the same primary school after finishing kindergarten and now they would attend the same secondary school once summer was over.

It was a warm day of summer, Lemon rolled over her bed and showed Priyanka an item she liked, Crazy in Love by Beyoncé played on the radio while the other girl was trying to cover a pimple on her chin with some foundation she had bought in the mall.

“You’re going to make it worse.” Lemon made her remove her hands.

“It hurts, it’s like a little red dot full of hate.”

“Use toothpaste instead.”

“Does it work?”

“Allegedly.” She shrugged. “I read it somewhere.”

“Okay… What did you want to show me?”

“Look at these,” she pointed at a picture of Hillary Duff. “I need those shoes.”

“That’s a pump.” Priyanka said, unimpressed.

“But it’s pink and yellow. How you don’t like the gradient in the colors? I’m in love.”

“Can you even walk with heels?”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course I can. When you’re short like me, you gotta have some options.”

Priyanka couldn’t argue with that, for her age she was already one of the tallest girls in the classroom. Sometimes she disliked being that tall, she felt like a little deer that couldn’t control its feet, wobbling around awkwardly.

Her best friend flipped a few more pages.

“Look! It’s a poster of Ryan Gosling from that movie… The Notebook.” She sounded excited.

Right. They were supposed to be excited about handsome muscle guys but there was something about it that didn’t click with Priyanka. She thought maybe she was just too young to get it, that when she’d grow older she’d get the feeling but until then, she had become very good at pretending.

“Oh, he’s so hot.” She hoped Lemon didn’t notice the fakeness of her voice.

“I know, right?” She giggled. “Do you want his picture?”

“Ah… you can keep it… I already have Leonardo DiCaprio’s and that’s just too many white guys.”

“Alright.” She picked a pair of scissors and started cutting the actor’s silhouette. The pair of dark-framed glasses she had on kept sliding down her nose bridge.

Priyanka smiled fondly at it.

“I’m home!” It was Lemon’s mom that had just returned from work.

Lemon jumped out of the bed and stood in the door’s frame. She looked even smaller in that oversized t-shirt of the Powerpuff Girls and shorts she wore as pajamas. Her hair was tied in a messy ponytail that brushed her shoulder blades.

“Hi, mom.” She yelled. “Priyanka’s here!”

“Hi, Priyanka!”

“Hello, Mrs. Baptsita!”

Priyanka adored Mrs. Baptista, she was a little wacky for Lemon’s taste but it was because she was younger than most moms with kids their age. She liked Priyanka and she supported their friendship since kindergarten, called them the Ketchup&Mustard duo since that Halloween they had matching costumes.

“Is she staying for dinner?”

Lemon turned around. “Are you staying for dinner?”

Priyanka shrugged. “Sure.”

“She is mom!”

“I’m making spaghetti!”

“Sound good!” She turned back to Priyanka again. “I hope you like spaghetti.”

“You know I do.”

Just a couple of minutes later, they heard the sound of Mr. Baptista’s car at the entrance.

“That’s my dad.” Lemon pointed.

“Hello, I’m home.”

“Hi, dad! Priyanka’s here.”

“Hi Lemon drop, hi Priyanka!”

“Hello, Mr. Baptista!”

Lemon grinned but not even five minutes later than her father’s arrival, the vibe of the kitchen changed and it was clear by the sound of their voices, her parents were arguing. Another argument…

“I swear to God… this is the third time this week."

Lemon sat on the edge of the bed and buried her face in her hands. She looked tired.

Priyanka gently touched her knee offering some comfort. Lemon pulled a weak smile that faded as soon as the voices increased in volume.

"Hey, I have some extra cash, wanna get some pizza?” Priyanka offered.

Lemon bit her bottom lip and nodded. “Let’s go.”

Lemon changed her shorts for pants and put on a pair of sneakers, then she grabbed her keys and both of them were out of the house. It wasn’t that late yet and there was a pizza place a few blocks away they could get on foot; they walked in silence until Lemon’s house was behind, then the blonde let a big sigh out of her chest.

“Pri, I can’t do this…” She sounded fragile as if she was holding the pieces together trying not to break with all her strengths.

Priyanka ran her arm over her shoulder and held her when she seemed about to fall.

“It’s okay, I’m sure they are going to work it out.”

Lemon snorted. “They started going to couple’s counseling and it got worse, they have pretty solid arguments to fight now.”

Priyanka covered her mouth holding back the laughter. “Sorry.”

“You dumb bitch.” Lemon shook her head.

They walked hugged like that the rest of the way, ate greasy pizza with extra cheese, and returned to a sepulchral silent house. Priyanka laid on the bed next to her, so close yet so far. If she extended her hand just a little more, she could touch her shoulder, make sure she was okay but for some reason, she couldn’t. Yet, she hoped that being there for her friend was enough then.

On the other side, Lemon had her eyes wide open, unable to drift off when her mind was going through a million different scenarios. Everything could only go downhill from there.

They didn’t know at that moment but the worst was yet to come.

She dashed out of the house as soon as she got the phone call, barely having the chance to put on a helmet before grabbing her bike. Priyanka was still catching her breath by the time Lemon opened the door.

Her face was bathed in tears, her eyes completely red and she couldn’t stop crying not even to explain what had happened. Priyanka had a vague idea judging by what was said on the phone but it wasn’t until she saw her friend she knew it was bad. Very bad.

Lemon wasn’t the most physically affectionate person in the world but she let Priyanka hug her and cried it out on her chest. They sat on the porch until the blonde began to calm down and could explain it better.

“Pri, they… they are getting divorced. It’s all happening so fast.”

Priyanka held her hand and squeezed it lightly. Lemon looked at her hand and then at her face, her eyes flooded with tears again.

“Hey,” The brunette tried to comfort her. “I’m so sorry, I know you love them both and they love you very much but this is probably for the best.”

“No, Pri, you don’t understand. They are… separating for real. They talked about lawyers and My mom she…” Lemon sobbed. “She wants us to move out…”

“Oh, I mean, that’s normal like-”

“…to New York.” Her voice was weak, defeated.

It took Priyanka a moment to process the newly acquired information.

“New York?!” She repeated in disbelief.

“Apparently, she has a job offer there, and… they think it’s for the best to put some distance between them.”

“I get the ‘moving out thing’ and the distance but that’s a completely different country!”

“I know! That’s what I said. Tell me I’m right, she’s out of her mind.”

“But wait, when does she want you to move out? What about school?”

“She thinks it’s a good idea if we go before the new semester starts so we can settle in and…”

“No, the new semester starts in two weeks… What about your dance lessons? Your life here?”

What about us?

“She said there are plenty of dance academies over there… That I would do fine. I hate it. This doesn’t go with the plan we had.”

Priyanka and Lemon had a life plan since they were ten, sealed with a pinky promise. They were going to graduate high school together and go to university in Toronto where they both would be roommates throughout college. It was their way of being together, to accomplish things in the company of the other, a sign of their unbreakable friendship.

“Wait but… what about your dad?” Can’t you stay with him?“ There was a hint of hope in Priyanka’s voice.

Lemon stared at the wooden floor of the porch for the longest time before looking back at her friend.

"I can’t. My dad travels a lot for business and while he’s going to remain here… my mom gave me no choice. They even said that it’s either New York or some boarding school in Quebec.”

Lemon surely had gone mad about it for her parents to threaten her like that, it didn’t sound like the Baptistas at all.

“This can’t be…” Priyanka shook her head. The tears felt warm on her cheeks.

“We’re leaving next week.”

“No…no, that’s… that’s too soon. You can’t leave… who’s going to help me buy a new outfit for the first day? Who’s going through the first day of school with me?”

“I hate to think about it. They really think this is for the best and then decide to drag me to a different country for the first year of school… «You have to be reasonable» they said, but they are the ones that come with these ideas out of blue.”

It was too sudden it made Priyanka felt dizzy; she couldn’t even begin to imagine what her friend was feeling like.

She squeezed her hand again. “It’s going to be okay.”

“You keep saying that but-” Lemon shook her head.

“Because it is going to be okay. I promise you, we’ll still be together, and… maybe we don’t get to attend the same high-school but we can still go to college together, the plan can still work out.”

“Are you sure?”

“Completely. You’re my best friend in the world; nothing is going to change that.”

Lemon smiled for the first time after getting the news of her parents’ divorce.

“Thanks, Pri.” She went for a hug and was received with open arms.

They hugged for a while without saying a single word, in that situation, words were unnecessary.

The day of Lemon’s moving, ironically the sun was shining and Priyanka kept reminding herself that in different circumstances they’d be at the park with their bikes or at the local pool but no, she was heading to her best friend’s house to say the last goodbye.

Priyanka hadn’t cried in front of her since that day on the porch but she had cried a lot when no one was seeing her. She was sad, upset, and mad about the situation but she didn’t want Lemon to leave with a sad note. So she went ahead and planned a week dedicated to her best friend, to enjoy the things they loved the most.

They had made each other friendship bracelets with their names –Priyanka was red and orange and it had a little golden star hanging next to her name; Lemon’s was pink and yellow and a butterfly next to hers- they had movie nights and sleepovers, karaoke sessions and dancing marathons every day until that awful day arrived.

Priyanka rode her bike like she had done millions of times before. There was a «FOR SALE» sign hanging outside and she hated it with all her soul. There was a truck parked outside as well with many boxes stacked inside and some furniture pieces they were taking to New York. Lemon was sitting on the porch’s stairs with a backpack on, the scene was oddly familiar and for a second time stopped.

She didn’t notice Priyanka’s presence until the brunette touched her shoulder.

“You’re here.” She said and did her best to smile.

“Where else I’d be?”

Lemon stood on her feet and hugged her, Priyanka hugged her back.

“Promise me you’re going to wait for my calls every week… and that you’re not going to have another best friend… ever.” Lemon sobbed on her shoulder.

“I promise it.” Priyanka patted her back in a calming gesture.

“I’ll visit on holidays, my dad is probably going to get a shitty apartment but still, I’ll be here.”

“I know you will.”

Lemon let go of her embrace. “Thank you, Pri. You’re my best friend in the world.”

“I know, right?”

The blonde giggled. “You’re so stupid…”

“Luce, get in the car, it’s time to go.” Her mom called her as she carried one last box.

“I have to go now. I already said good-bye to my dad; he had a flight to catch early but… It feels so empty without him here.”

“Lemz, I’m sorry.” She hugged her one more time. It was quick but it lingered. “Take care and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do in New York.”

“That sets the bar very low, don’t you think?”

Priyanka laughed. “I’ll miss you like crazy.”

“Me too.”

Lemon’s mom waved in their direction, the car was already on and the truck was closed and packed.

“Well, I guess this is our goodbye for now.”

“Count the days because I’m going to be back in no time, okay?”

She nodded.

“Love you, Pri.”

“Love you too.”

And with that said, Lemon started walking toward the car. It was painful to watch her leave but Priyanka didn’t want to look away, she wanted to remember it all until they could meet again.

The car started moving but stopped abruptly as Lemon opened the door and ran back to where Priyanka was.

“Lemon, what…?”

“I almost forgot, I was supposed to give you this the first day of school but…” She was out of breath. Suddenly a brand new CD of Spiceworld was on Priyanka’s hands. “You were so sad when your sister broke the one you had worked so hard to buy and I thought…”

Priyanka was hugging her again. “Oh, Lemon…”

“Please don’t forget me.”

Her mom honked at them, the truck was already hitting the road.

Lemon walked back and this time, she left for real.

[rogerbikes]

8 more days until my husband graduates from bootcamp.

I cannot believe I survived almost 8 weeks without him. Was I alone in it? No. But I need to honestly stop knocking myself of the credit I deserve.

Still remember the card ride we were on when he was complaining about how dead end his job was and how better off we’d be financially if he had joined the Navy.

We were brand new parents. Hit with a fucking pandemic, living in a shit hole and feeling like shit holes. Our daughter was five months old. I had no job and we didn’t know what the next couple months were going to look like. Let alone the next couple YEARS. It was scary, dark and sometimes felt hopeless.

I remember being at home all day with the baby while he worked. Breastfeeding, watching TV, entertaining the baby and waiting for him to come back. Not knowing when things were going to change or how.

“Then why don’t you just do it?” I said. And from that moment we had a plan. I can’t believe everything started from a simple conversation and now we are at the end of the hardest part. Not only that, but we have ANOTHER child on the way.

I seldom take the time to give myself slack or credit or really admire the life I have. The things I do. I’m always concerned with not doing ENOUGH.

My husband left in May and since then I’ve successfully weaned our impossible daughter off breastfeeding. Gotten her on a schedule. Managed to feed, change and entertain her for weeks. I’m growing a human. I’ve moved out of our apartment. Dealt with the emotional turmoil that is pregnancy and being totally cut off from your spouse. I’ve done a lot and honestly I didn’t let it destroy me.

I’ve had some really great times through all of this. Like my daughters first birthday and birthday party. Watching her grow, become more interactive, silly, independent. Going to a carnival for the first time in forever. Going to the lake. Dying my hair. Going to the museum. My anatomy scan of the baby. The tiring walks we take in the mornings before nap time. The desperate nap time car rides. Going to the YMCA for swim time. I’ve done my best to enjoy all the little things. Despite it all. Even the joy of getting a letter from my husband can make my day.

But here we are almost at the fucking end! I’ll finally have a little bit of sanity back. And hopefully some more information about the future.

I’ve really had to push myself so much these past few weeks. In a way I think it was totally healthy for me to have this time alone. SO much has happened the past two years it’s insane. I never got to digest any of it. The thing about having kids is, I don’t think you ever do. Everything is go go go until those really big moments happen where it all kind of hits you. Like when the Princess at her birthday party was “crowning” her an official princess and the fact that I’ve been holding this little girl for over a year hit me. I could remember her very first cry and how it made my heart flutter. That’s when it hits you.

Or when she’s sleeping and I get to just look at her peacefully and remember the sleepless nights on my end when we just brought her home. Nobody lies when they tell you enjoy every moment because it goes so fast. It does! It’s time consuming. It’s hard work. It’s never quiet. I guess on the rare occasion that it is, you can truly soak it in.

Being away from my husband forced me to take risks, do things I didn’t think about doing before, being more organized, on top of things. In control. I mean I think we spent the first 9 months of her life not having a clue how to do anything. She was the boss. There was no order at all and we were both a wreck on the inside and out.

I used to not go to the store alone with my daughter because I was afraid of this, that and the other. I also never took the car seat out by myself or knew how to install it. Didn’t like driving with her alone in the backseat. Was afraid to feed her real food instead of baby food I knew was impossible to choke on. All these fears I overcame! I stopped dreading mornings as much and instead prepping for them mentally.

Also I started to slowly but surely get rid of people from my high school off of social media which I know sounds silly but it gives me anxiety. However when I actually do it I feel so much better and don’t regret it at all. I’m rapidly approaching my mid 20’s and it really is time to let go of the past. I’ve had such a hard time closing chapters and realizing I’m in a new one. Social media makes it THAT much harder but I think it’s even harder to break from it as a whole. It’s just unrealistic since my generation was raised on it. It’s so ingrained in me. It’s much easier to just create a safer space for yourself than force yourself off of something that provides creative expression.

I genuinely enjoy MY OWN content I just get annoyed by others. I’m still healing and processing past events and relationships. But those things were real and deep so I need to be forgiving with myself about it. But I definitely have gotten to points in the past where it’s like all I would think about. Now I’m not allowing myself to have SO MUCH dwell time. I need to live and be present. But also gentle with myself as I dont have THEE most stamina out there. Like seriously. Catch me with dizzy spells all the time.

Another big thing I accomplished was changing my name (again) legally which was A PROCESS! I’m never changing my name again. Seriously it is not worth it. Props to my 21 year old self for doing the most and going knee deep with transition but JFC was it a mess to get out of.

This is such a long post but it’s been a long summer so far.

Anyways. When it comes to genders I’ve time and time again come back to the same conclusion that I’m just fluid. A few months ago I was very turned off my anything feminine and felt more masculine again but when I get into THAT mindset I’m very one track mind. Blinders on.

The reality is I’m capable of feeling feminine and being happy in it. Like currently I’m VERY femme vibes and I’m comfortable with it. I’ve found a happy medium. Will I ever grow my hair rapunzel long again and flaunt around like I’m a cottage core princess? No. That’s just not me. Ironically enough I love that aesthetic I just know it isn’t ME. I’m way more rough around the edges. And that’s okay. I’m learning to stop trying and to just BE.

I’m excited to see how my marriage will feel after coming back together. We weren’t in a super strong place a few months ago. I always knew we have a solid foundation but there’s always so much to work on. Most of it comes from the inside of either of us. There was so much lack of being people. I think most new parents go through that but nobody wants to talk about that.

The first year of parenting is supposed to be some magical quirky shit show that everyone has a good wholesome laugh about. When in reality it’s just a flaming messy shit HOLE that you laugh about otherwise you will cry about it. But you end up crying regardless.

Anyways. The bottom line is. I’m ready to fucking move on. Move OUT. And go forward. This is just a little mile marker for me to say “you did it! you got through those dreaded 8 weeks!”

[crewhonk]

Only Happy Accidents (10)

Summary: It’s wedding day!

Warnings: Wedding Nerves, Mentions of grieving, emotional declarations, little Stevie is a naughty boy at the end

Words: Lots

Only Happy Accidents Masterlist

_______________________

You Matter To Me— Sara Barielles ft. Jason Mraz 

June 24th, Week 36, Wedding Day

YN woke with a jolt, fingers pressed to her side where her baby had gotten their foot stuck between her ribs. She was sure there would be a bruise blossoming soon enough, and she had only wished that Bucky’s theory about the baby being like Steve in the forties was true. However, that didn’t seem to be the case— the closer they got to the due date, the stronger the baby got and the bigger YN grew. YN was so large, that at this point, Pepper had asked if it was two babies instead of one, and much to Steve and YN’s relief, they were pleased to find out that it was, in fact, just one child. 

Steve shifted on the bed next to her, arms slapping the bed until it found YN’s shoulder and hummed, stroking her skin with his thumb gently. 

“You ‘kay?” He murmured, still half asleep. “So far. C’mere.” He grumbled, trying to pull YN closer. 

“I’m good. Baby just got stuck in moms ribs last night, so mom’s a little sore this morning.” YN cooed playfully down to her belly, and Steve, as if he had a sixth sense, put his hand over the sore spot on YN’s side and rubbed it absently. He mouthed at the back of her shoulder once he had pulled her closer to him, and she wiggled back into him, sighing as her body seemed to naturally react to his. 

“You were a little restless last night, sweetheart. You getting cold feet?” He mumbled jokingly and she scoffed. 

“About our wedding today? No. More cold feet about having Natasha plan our wedding though— I have no idea what to expect.” YN laughed, shifting onto her back and looking up at her Steve, curling her arm around his head and scratching his scalp as he kissed her collarbone. 

“Hey, we got to pick the wedding song and cake, and you got to pick the dress, so as long as you meet me at the altar today, I don’t care if a mime officiates the whole thing. I’ll consider it a perfect day.” He smiled and she rolled her eyes and snorted. “But seriously, you okay?”

“I’m okay,” she replied, remembering that nothing could get past Steve Rogers. “I had a few nightmares last night, though.” 

“About?”

“Well, since we haven’t gone officially public, which I still think is hilarious, I had a dream where press helicopters and paparazzi swarmed us and I couldn’t get to you no matter how hard I tried, and every time I almost got to your hand, the dream restarted. Then, I finally got to you and someone objected when the whole ‘stand now or forever hold your peace’ part rolled around and you killed them.” Steve smirked and nodded, and pulled the sheets over their heads, creating a safe little cocoon as he kissed her soundly. 

“I’d make sure I got to you first and I’m pretty sure the second bit won’t happen today— there’s only like, thirty people coming. You got nothing to worry about today, my wife.” He hummed and YN smiled. 

“Borat?” YN asked, cocking her head and making Steve frown. 

“What?” 

“Nothing.” She snorted and kissed him again. “Anyways, I’ll always make sure I hold your piece, Husband.” She hummed, sneaking her fingertips under the waistband of his boxers and feeling his stomach shudder as her fingers glided through the hair on his pubic bone. Just as she wrapped her hand around the base of his hot, half-hard cock, the sound of a bedroom door slammed open and something like confetti poppers exploded. 

“WEDDING DAY!!!” Three unmistakable voices screamed, and Steve sat right up, shielding YN with his body— sudden loud noises (no matter what they were) never worked well for Steve.

“Oh, it’s you guys.” He said, disappointment unmistakable in his voice. 

“‘Oh, it’s you guys,’ he says, disappointed that his fiancee couldn’t finish his hand job. Put your dick away!” Sam whined, and YN grunted, pulling her hands from Steve’s body and sitting up, running a hand through her messy bed hair. 

“Dick is away. Why are you guys here so damn early?” She moaned, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes as she looked at the clock— 8:00 am. 

“You get married in four hours, and we have to start getting you ready.” Natasha chirped, skipping over to YN and pulling her up much to the couples annoyance. Natasha pulled a hoodie and sweatpants from Steve’s drawers and tossed them at her, and all parties watched as she hopped into the clothes. She turned just as she went to leave the room and skipped over to Steve, reaching over him, grabbing her phone and wallet and planting a kiss on his lips. The boys hooted and howled and cheered as YN cradled his face in her hands. She straddled him to the best of her ability, but with an eight month belly, she did the best she could, licking at his bottom lip and running her hands through his hair to make sure he looked thoroughly snogged. She pulled back, and took in the sight under her— at his flushed cheeks, and his messy hair, his swollen lips and bright eyes and nodded. 

“See you at the altar, handsome.” She winked, a thrill shooting through her body as she rolled off of him and landed as gracefully on the floor as she could. Her own face heated up as she felt his hand smack her butt and she shot back a glare as she left the room. 

“You stole my line!” He shouted after her, and she left the apartment with Natasha and a laugh. 

Back upstairs, the boys turned back to Steve with smirks and raised eyebrows. 

“What?” Steve smirked sheepishly, scratching the back fo his neck and bending his legs to hide the tent that would otherwise be prominent. 

_________________________

“Turn to Stone”— Ingrid Michaelson

The girls arrived at Peppers cabin and YN was immediately handed a blindfold that read ‘bride’. 

“What’s this?”

“I don’t want the venue to be spoiled. Put it on and I’ll take you upstairs.” Natasha demanded, and not wanting to deny her her day, YN listened and trusted that Natasha wouldn’t throw her down the stairs as they made their way up to Peppers spare room. 

When YN was able to take off her blindfold she discovered that the spare room was less of a spare room and more of a fitting room decked out for a queen. There was a snack bar beside the bathroom door, soft fabrics and rugs thrown across the floor and around the pedestal in font of a huge mirror which had YN’s beautiful, stunning wedding dress hanging from. YN gasped and clutched her necklace when she noticed that the hangar read ‘Mrs. Rogers’. Her knees went weak, and Natasha, the woman who noticed everything, held her up and smiled.  

“Like it?”

“Natasha. This is— this is amazing I can’t—“ YN gasped, complying with Natasha and sitting in the white armchair in front of a makeup desk. Natasha grabbed her a bottle of water and all the medication she would need and waited and watched as YN took it all. 

“This is your day, YN and you’re family. This is what we do for family.” A new voice, Pepper Potts sounded from the doorway. The mini version of Ton Stark popped her head around her moms legs and upon realizing she could finally enter the forbidden-wedding-room, skipped in and climbed onto YN’s lap. 

“We’re going to make you a princess today!” She cheered and YN gasped, squeezing the little girls waist and making her squeal with joy. 

“But what about you? There can’t be more than one princess!” She played along, and Morgan looked genuinely offended at her words. 

“Then you can be queen! Like Elsa!” She demanded and YN laughed, wiping the food from Morgans cheek she had apparently been eating only moments before and kissing her nose. 

“As long as I have my Anna by my side.” She smiled and Morgan nodded eagerly. 

“Duh!”

___________________

Both Michaela and YN’s mother arrived soon, and soon enough, the preparations had begun. YN hadn’t had much of a breakfast— the combination of nerves and a hyperactive baby making her slightly nauseous (very nauseous), so it was between layers of moisturizer and foundation that she was able to take nips of fruit and bread— the craving of the day, hot Cheetos in ketchup— was immediately banned upon the mention of it by a slightly crazed-looking Natasha Romanoff. 

“That! Is not happening! There is too much white in this room!”

Michaela had immediately taken to YN’s hair, and after seeing a few pictures shown by Natasha, she nodded and began to work quickly. YN and her mother chatted idly— not having much to talk about since they’d been distanced since her father had passed, but managing nevertheless. Pepper fixed YN’s makeup up— light and airy, she had said. There was only a light layer of foundation, and it was a glowy, healthy look set with mattifying spray— something that would reduce shine but keep the look. 

The four hours passed too quickly, and soon, The dress was being pulled from its hangar and YN was being helped out of her sweater and pants— both being moved carefully to mind the bump, makeup and hair. 

The dress was lighter than YN remembered— the fabric cool on her hot skin, and flaring over her bump. Despite the looseness of the fit, YN couldn’t help but feel sexy— the slim, but plunging neckline mirroring the wide and plunging back. The star patterns in the fabric glinted in the light, and when she turned around, the four women gasped and Morgan cheered loudly. 

“Princess! Princess! Princess!” She began to chant, and soon, the four grown women joined in, tears streaming down their own faces as they clapped and jumped excitedly. They crowded around her and fussed, adding final touches and chirping to each other and cooing over how genuinely perfect YN looked. Soon, she was coasted into the view of the mirror, and YN couldn’t even recognize herself if she tried. 

Her skin looked fresh and perfectly toned— body shimmer making her have a glow that radiated from the inside. Her hair was shining and healthy in the natural light streaming through the curtains, and the dress— oh, the dress. It looked as if it was made for her by the Gods themselves.

There was a hush as YN’s mother took the veil and clipped it in her half-up half-down hair, fanning it around and YN stared at herself— in complete awe at what these women had helped her become. She was so lost in the patterns of the dress and her skin that YN couldn’t help but jump at the sound of the door opening and closing. 

She turned quickly to find Bucky staring at her and shaking his head, an awed smile on his face. 

“Wow. That Rogers guy is one lucky man.” He commented, walking over to the podium and helping YN off of it, kissing her forehead and pulling away, looking her up and down and shaking his head. “You don’t even look like the same person from this morning.”

“Is he here?” YN blurted, flushing bright red. She could have asked what he was doing here, or if the fact that she looked different from this morning was a good or bad thing, but all she could think about was the fact that Steve may or may not be here, right now. In the suit and tie she would be marrying him in. 

“He is. And, YN YLN, I have never, in all my 100 years of knowing the guy, ever seen him look so excited or happy. You are his soulmate, he’s yours and— I’m just so happy that you came into his life. He loves you more than anything in this world, and believe me when I say it’s not just about the baby. You have him wrapped around your finger and he wants to live there.” He said, tears filling his eyes. “Thank you, YN YLN. For making my best friend the happiest man on Earth.”

YN looked up at Bucky— his smooth hair tied into a neat bun, and his bright blue eyes shining and happy and his scruffy cheeks pulled back in a wide, happy grin— and sniffed, her chin wobbling. 

“Nope!” Natasha chirped, voice thick with emotion of her own. “Get out, you can’t make her cry!” Bucky resisted Natasha’s pushing, and tried his best to not feel horrendously fazed by the daggers shooting from her eyes. 

“I can’t do that.” Bucky smiled, wiping his eyes. 

“Why not?” Natahsa glared, resting her fists on her hips and tapping her foot. In tandem with the light blue bridesmaid dress, her hair and expression looked fiery and dangerous and it shot a thrill through even YN’s body. 

“Because it’s time.”

__________________

“Keep Breathing”— Ingrid Michaelson / “Little Wonders”— Rob Thomas

YN and Bucky stood facing the back door— the windows were covered by a half-sheer white curtain, something just enough for the crowd to see the silhouettes of the people behind it, but not enough for details. Bucky was waiting for Sam and Michaela to get down to the altar before he opened the door, and as he did, he looked down at the woman who was going to marry his best friend. 

“You ready?” He whispered and YN took a huge breath, digging her fingernails into her palms and shifting her weight from one foot to the next.

“I’m just trying to wrap my head around what’s about to happen.” She whispered, voice shaking. 

“What’s that?”

“Well, I’m about to marry the old Captain America, the Winter Soldier, the new Captain America and the Black Widow are standing for us, and half the crowd has either saved the planet on more than one occasion or are from literal space. I feel like I’m going to wake up any second from the craziest dream in the world.” She rushed and Bucky snorted, unfurling her hands and holding them in his own. He could hear the chittering of the crowd outside, but he wouldn’t start walking until he knew YN would be sure to follow. Throughout the wedding process and learning more about her and watching Natasha struggle and stress over planning, YN had managed to worm a comfortable place in his heart.

“When you say it like that—“ He joked and watched as a sheepish smile found its place on YN’s face. “It’s time.” He whispered and YN sucked in a huge breath and nodded, steeling herself for the long walk she would have to take by herself. Bucky, sensing her apprehension stopped from opening the doors and entering himself, taking her hands once again. 

“You gettin’ cold feet, Doll?” He half-joked. While he did like YN quite a bit, he wasn’t sure he was too ready to drive the get away car for her yet. 

“I just—“ YN said, voice quivering with emotion. “I just imagined this day going so differently. Don’t get me wrong! I love that I’m marrying Steve and that I’m having his baby soon it’s just— I wanted my dad to walk me down the aisle. He was my best friend and he talked about him walking me down and what song we would dance to for the father-daughter dance and— I don’t know. I don’t know if I can do this without him by my side.” She sniffed and Bucky, knowing just how it felt to not have your loved ones by your side, wiped her tears and offered a smile once she met his eyes again. 

“I’m sorry I—“

“Let me walk you down. I know it’s not ideal— but you’re family, and Steve is my brother and I want you to have someone who loves you by your side the whole day— your day. Will you, YN YLN soon-to-be-Rogers, do me the honour of letting me walk you down the aisle and give you away to Steve.” He said, eyes kind but overwhelmingly serious, as if this was the most important thing to him. 

YN tried to quell the rise of tears from her eyes and her chin wobbled dangerously as she nodded. He gave her his most charming grin as he took her hand and looped it around his arm, squeezing her hand before raising his other hand to wrap around the handle of the door.

“You good to go?” 

“Don’t let me fall, Barnes.” YN said, voice shaking. 

“I got you, Kid.” He replied, and twisted the handle, pushing both doors open and leading YN out to the backyard. The swell of the wedding march sounded, and the crowd gasped, upon seeing YN and Bucky together. He lead her across the porch and down the steps and his eyes flicked up to Steve who seemed to be holding back from either crying, throwing up, or sprinting off the altar to sweep YN into his arms. Bucky looked down at YN who seemed to be focussed on her feet. He squeezed her arm, and leaned in to whisper into her ear. 

“Look up.” 

And when she did, Bucky could see YN’s world shift. Her steps were slightly quicker, and her eyes shined in the afternoon sun, and the death grip on his forearm loosened until he was afraid she would pick up her skirts and sprint to Steve, which he thought would be rather amusing. 

YN couldn’t breathe— she wanted to be in Steve’s arms and to wipe away the tears streaming down his cheeks and kiss him until either one of them passed out. The world around her seemed to fade away to nothing— the edges of her vision whiting out until the only thing she could see was Steve. He looked impossibly thick and long in his black suit, his shaking hands clasped in front of him, and she couldn’t help the smile spread across her face when she noticed he was bouncing on the balls of his feet slightly. She felt wholly in this moment, and yet, felt as if she was hyper aware of the world. She could feel the deer on the other side of the lake moving, and she could hear the birds chirping and fish jumping in the lake, and she could feel the wind on her skin and the heat of the sun, and if she could pick one moment to live in for the rest of her life, it would be this one. 

Finally, she looked up at his face, and the breath was stolen from her lungs at the smile on his face.

‘I love you,’ he mouthed, as she grew closer and she winked. 

‘I love you.’ She replied. 

Eventually— in a combination of too soon and not soon enough, YN and Steve’s hands are being joined by Bucky, and YN could barely hear anything the priest was saying— his voice a distant drone as she stared into the deep blue and green of Steve’s eyes— memorizing every emotion and colour and solidifying the memory of this day and how his gaze on her face made her feel. 

He blinked, and tears spilled from his eyes, and YN breathed out a laugh, pulling her hands from his and wiping them away with her thumbs. She let her touch linger for a mere second and hurriedly re-joined their hands when the priest cleared his throat. It was another five minutes before Steve squeezed her hands and she blinked out of her reverie. 

“Huh?” She uttered and flushed with embarrassment when the crowd chuckled fondly. 

“The vows.” Steve whispered and YN’s eyes widened.

“Oh. Uh— yeah.” She commented and Steve chuckled and smiled at her— all of the love in the world in his eyes. “Steve. I was trying to figure out what I was supposed to say in these vows, and usually, vows would start with something like ‘since the day that I met you, I knew you were the one’, but our love wasn’t like that. We started it backwards, and it was slow, and awkward but so fast and natural at the same time. Our love is scary, and bigger than us and a year ago, I couldn’t have pictured that my life would be the way it is now. It’s filled with so much joy, and so much laughter and comfort and thrill and it’s so overwhelming to the point of me wanting to scream off the rooftops so that the whole city can have a taste of how much I love you. I will love you for the rest of time, Steve Rogers, and we have so much of it and I can’t wait to get started.”

Steve let out a choked sob through his smile, and wiped his eyes again with the back of his hands, joining them and raising YN’s knuckles to press against his lips. 

“I met you, Yn YLN, while you were wearing a sexy pirate number on Halloween night. YN, you’ve added an excitement and thrill to my life that I have never had— something I tried to find saving the world or hiding from it. You’ve given me a purpose that can’t be fulfilled through a job— a purpose without an end. You’ve given me a purpose of love, and devotion, and a purpose to make your heart beat fast and your stomach flip and if we get to fall even more in love along the process then I’m excited for it. My love and purpose for you are bottomless, and you’ve taken my life in your hands and flipped it into something softer, and warmer and into something that I am proud to live. Loving you is the new purpose you’ve given me and I will thank you for it for the rest of my days.” YN could hear the sounds of people blowing their noses and sniffling and YN looked up, tears leaking from the outside corners of her eyes as she let out a shaking breath. 

“Shit.” YN cursed, smiling up at Steve who was mirroring her shaking shoulders. 

“Would the ring bearess please bring the rings?” The priest called, voice warm and soft. YN turned her head away from Steve for the first time since the ceremony had begun to watch Morgan slowly walk up to the altar, seemingly balancing two gold bands on one light blue pillow, despite the fact that they were tied with ribbon. He little tongue was poked out the side fo her mouth and her brow was furrowed in concentration until she reached YN and Steve who bent over and untied the rings, thanking Morgan with kisses and words and rising again to face each other. 

“Do you, YN YMN YLN, take Steven Grant Rogers to be your lawfully wedded husband, until the day you die?” 

“I do.”

Steve took YN’s hand in his own warmer one, and slid the band on her left ring finger, raising it to his lips to seal the promise of his love with a kiss, making YN’s heart flutter in her chest with the love she had for him. 

“Do you, Steven Grant Rogers, take YN YMN YLN to be your lawfully wedded wife, until the day you die?” 

“I do.”

YN sniffed, and took Steve’s left hand in her own, and with shaking fingers, slid the ring on, mimicking his actions and kissing his knuckle, watching in glee as his cheeks flushed even redder than they already were. 

“Then by the power vested in me, by the grace of God and the state of New York, I declare you YN and Steven Rogers! You may now kiss the bride.”

And Steve, evil glint in his eye, took YN’s waist in his hands, and swept her in a circle before dipping her low to the ground and planting his lips on hers through a toothy grin and elated giggles from his beautiful wife. 

And, as Steve grabbed his wife’s hand and lead her down the aisle— her bouquet raised in the hair and as rice was thrown over their heads Steve Rogers swore he could never be happier than he was in this very moment. 

___________________

“Lover”— Taylor Swift

“Please welcome, for the very first time, Mr. and Mrs. Steve Rogers!” With a flourish of white and blue curtain, YN and Steve Rogers stepped out into the back yard, and gasped. The backyard had been changed from a summer camp cabin yard to an elegant shot from some romance movie. Fairy lights were strung from the tree to the edge of the deck roofing, and blue and white flowers were strung between them. The soft branches fo the willow tree were also weaved through the strings of the lights, giving the yard a sort of roofing structure which allowed the brightness fo the moon and stars to still be shown. Glowing warm lights were posted at every table and around the perimeter of the space, and frankly, YN had never seen anything quite like it. 

“Steve.” YN could only utter, and he squeezed her arm as if to say ‘I know’. He lead her through the clapping guests and up to the main table where they sat in the middle, with Natasha, Sam, Michaela and Bucky on either side of them. Without even having the chance to ask when the food would be served (YN was starved, and so was baby), caterers swept out from the house and down the stairs to elegantly place soup and salad and bread in front of them. 

The entire meal moved like this— entrees and meals served between speeches from friends and family— even Morgan had lamented about how much the Princess YN deserved a special day like this, and how she truly looked like royalty in the dress Uncle Bucky had chosen for her.  Sam, already drunk rambled about how much Steve deserved this and in the same breath, exposed every embarrassing thing Steve had done when he was seemingly alone. YN had cried laughing at that speech, and Steve looked between murderous and amused when Sam had told the entire crowd that Steve had waterboard himself on more than one occasion— the first time being ‘I wanted to see what it felt like’, the second time he had the hiccups and followed Natasha’s orders to drink water from the other side of the glass to quell them, and the third time was when Steve was watching cartoons and was too lazy to move from his upside down position on the couch to take a drink of water. 

“You are too cute for your own good, Rogers.” YN giggled in his ear, drunk off joy and the energy of the crowd. 

Finally the meals ended, and the tables were cleared and pushed into the periphery of the yard— far enough fr the thirty guests to dance, but close enough to fall into at a moments notice. 

“I think this is our queue,” Steve mumbled and offered his hand which his wife smiled graciously and took, letting him lead her to the centre of the dance floor. While she knew Steve would have appreciated something slow, both YN and Natasha were thrilled with the final choice of song for the first dance. 

Steve spun her slowly into his arms as the slow guitar and bass filled the yard and swayed gently as Taylor Swift’s voice crooned the words to “Lover”. 

‘Have I known you 20 seconds, or 20 years.’

Steve huffed a laugh at the lyric, smiling down at his beautiful wife and pressing his forehead against hers. 

“Have I told you how breathtaking you are today?” He murmured and YN snorted, pressing as close to him as her bump would allow. 

“Once or twice.” She replied, smiling up at him, and she swore the gold light of the candles and firelight made his skin glow and his eyes the deepest blue she’d ever seen. The eyes which had seen so much trauma and bad were so soft on her, taking in every speck of glitter and every bit of blush and every freckle which poked through the thin later of makeups he was wearing. 

The wold seemed far away as the two swayed together, simply trying their best to live in the moment and in each other. 

‘I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover.’

“I love you, Steve Rogers. Never thought I could be this happy again.” YN whisered, her hand curling through his dark blonde hair curled at the base of his neck. He grinned and bent down, pressing his soft lips against hers and drinking her in, running his tongue on her bottom lip to remember her taste. He pulled away and she laughed, thumbing the pink lipstick off of his mouth before kissing it once more. 

“I’m happy we feel the exact same way.” He replied, placing his forehead on hers and rubbing his nose against hers. Their lips barely brushed as they shifted around the room once more. 

The world came back to them soon enough with the sound of whistles and applause, and both YN and Steve blushed happily— not int he shame of being caught or exposed for their love, but for the fact that their love was so accepted and celebrated and it was almost overwhelming to see how happy their love made other people— let alone themselves. Finally— after seemingly waiting a lifetime, Steve and YN’s left ring fingers glinted the light as they were raised to the stars in celebration— never straying too far from one another at all. 

______________________

“Kiss - recorded at Spotify Studios NYC”— Kelly Clarkson / “Suit & Tie”— Justin Timberlake, JAY-Z

The bouquet had been thrown (Natasha had caught it, Bucky refused to make eye contact), the mead had been poured (Steve’s cheeks were flushed a healthy red, and Thor’s laugh boomed across the yard), the kids were huddled under a table, trying their damndest to stay awake with the snack they’d smuggled with them. Both Michaela and Sam had dissapeared multiple times over the course of the night— both returning seconds apart from one another with messy clothes and swollen lips, and YN had managed to sweep her mother away from Pepper multiple times over the course of the night to dance with her the way they used to in the kitchen, only to be interrupted by Steve who would wink at you and take your mothers hand. Morgan had graciously saved you from dancing alone after those incidents— both of you jumping up and down excitedly. Shoes and jackets were thrown haphazardly over table and chairs and drinks lay on their sides, long forgotten. 

Finally, the final event of the evening before people were allowed to disappear from the venue was called— the garter toss. 

“Would the groom and bride please return to the dance floor, please and thank you!” YN broke away from Pepper and her mom to the sound of Sams voice singing across the yard. In the middle of the dance floor were two things that made YN’s blood rush eagerly. 

A wooden chair. And Steve Rogers, smiling mischievously at her. 

Every time he had caught her eye over the course of the night, she grew more and more dizzy with love and lust for him. It had started when he’d shed his jacket— taught muscles pulling at the white fabric of his shirt, and his hair grew more and more mussed up the more he danced and jumped with his friends and wife. At some point, YN and Steve had been dancing, and in an attempt to seduce him, she’d undone his tie and left it there, undoing the top two buttons and kissing the sweaty skin she had revealed. 

Another two buttons and come undone since then— and bits of light brown chest hair began to show itself. He extended his hand towards her, and smiled— cheeks flushed bright and eyes shining with joy. YN blushed and walked across the floor to join him, letting him kiss her and place her gently in the chair before he nodded at Sam to start the music. The heady bass made YN’s heart pound as Steve began swaying his hips— the mixture of mead and wedding making him dorky and confident. His long fingers travelled up his chest and threaded another two buttons loose as he sauntered over to YN and turned, swaying his hips and grinding on her lap, making YN shriek with laughter and wipe tears from her eyes. His attempt at sexy was hilarious— and that was one of her favourite parts fo him. 

He spun around quickly, falling to his knees in front of her and surging up to kiss her lips before sinking down on his heels and wrapping a hand around her ankle. In front of everyone, he raised her ankle and planted a solid kiss on it, trailing them up her leg as he pushed her dress skirts higher up her body. After they had gotten to above her knee, he winked at her and flipped her skirts over his head, and YN clutched the sides of the chair as the crowd cat called them. She could feel him already working his magic on her skin. He was dragging his beard across her sensitive skin, and soothing the irritation with his lips and tongue. His hands were boiling hot, and his left hand wasted no time in pushing her thighs apart and pressing against the heated cotton of her underwear as his teeth found the fabric of the white garter wrapped around her thigh. YN couldn’t hold back her squeal as Steve pushed her underwear to the side and swiped two fingers up her core, gathering the slick of her pussy just as he began to pull the garter down her leg. He pulled out of the dress quickly, absently flinging it over his shoulder (it slapped pathetically against Bucky’s chest), and while everyone was distracted with the fact that both Natasha and Bucky had caught the omens of the next marriage, Steve raised his two glistening fingers to his lips and sucked them. He leaned over YN and kissed her, and she moaned lightly at the taste of herself on his tongue. 

“God, you’re going to be the death of me, Rogers.” YN cursed at him and he winked, only pulling his face inches away from hers. 

“Wanna go find a place to make out, Rogers?” He asked, breath smelling of YN and mead and mint, and YN shuddered a breath. 

“Yes, please.”

___________________________

 Tag List (send me an ask, ONLY. must interact with the fic more than a like): yesfanficsaremylife / notyourtypicalrose /  laurxn-robinson / disaster-rose / lille-kattunge / wwecrazed2010 / vxidnik / chewingoffmyfoot/ vitamingrant / captainamericasbeard / chrisgalore / songforhema / mmyepic / multifandommandy / tommyhoe / lostdarksoul6 / crist1216 / taeeemin / jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory / feelmyroarrrr / teller258316 / mrsdeanwinchester19 / qrangr / mariswritingforfun / nerdypinupcrystal / kittycatlover18 / laucontrerasv / printedpeterparker / @dumblani  / @captainomad / eversonaive / rainbowkisses31 / i-think-i-am-adorable / rainbowkisses31 / smalltintedgorl / geeksareunique / jennmurawski13 / clutteredmind-emptythoughts / venezuelaanklemayonnaise 

[hillbillyoracle]

Rebooting My Practice

This is going to be pretty rambly, but I always get a lot out of these posts when other people make them so I wanted to make one too.

I hit a point earlier this year, as I started to really see what all astrology could be, when I knew I was going to need to overhaul pretty much my entire practice. For the last decade, I've focused on divination; on doing activities that sharpen my intuition, following up and checking predictions, tracking cards and results to better understand the connection, etc. I did this primarily in the service of my main deity, the Morrigan.

I still work with her, but I'm in a lurch as to how to continue my work with her. I have yet to quite figure out how to balance her general distaste for shrines (with me at least) and deepening my relationship with her in the absence of local folks to read for as I've relied on for years (thanks COVID). I've been praying the Catholic Rosary lately as a way to deepen my relationship with the Virgin Mary and the Saint I'm petitioning lately and I feel her kind of peering in when I do that so I might have to design one for her. I have a feeling whatever I come up with will likely be in a free zine rather than a blog post at some point.

But where that left me was in this weird abyss, where the only really solid things in my practice were like 3 deities (The Morrigan, Hermes, Yinepu/Anubis) I worked with regularly and tarot cards. I think for plenty of people that's fine but I wanted something deeper and more effective. It was around the time that I was rethinking everything that I stumbled on to this post about a magical routine that absolutely enthralled me. It took me another month and ultimately moving house altogether to even begin to piece something together that would set me on the road to something like this. I knew I was not ready but I finally had a picture in my mind something to work towards. Like rehabilitating after an injury, sometimes you've got to do half as much as you think you can before you really take off.

So I wanted to take some time and talk about the way my practice is changing and what the new pillars are slowly emerging to be.

Planetary Petitions

While I don't have the Orphic Hymns for each of the 7 classical planets memorized yet as per the post, I started by doing planetary prayers more days than I do not do them. Thanks to my truly godawful downstairs neighbor at the new place, who's floor shaking door slams throughout the whole night have netted me an average of 3 hours a night, I'm usually up for the first planetary hour of a given day. Hey maybe it's a sign, a big universal push to show the fuck up.

I'm also incredibly lucky I loaded up on some planetary incenses right before COVID when a local store had a huge sale. It's proved well worth it as above all I try to get the planetary incense right, though I did have to default to a Frankincense one when we were first moving in.  I slowly feel like I'm beginning to understand the planetary spirits better but only slightly. I completely see why memorizing the prayer is recommended and I do feel that's standing in the way of me being closer with them.

I have not noticed a huge difference when I petition them truthfully. I get the vibe that it takes time to build up that relationship. Though I'm open to input here - for those who do planetary petitions, what made them click for you?

Saint Veneration + Christian Magic

One thing I put off for many years, though I knew it was coming, was working with more Saints. I knew it'd likely involve having to dip back into Christianity to make it work and I was completely right.

As my partner began revisiting her Catholic roots earlier this year, it got me curious about things like the Rosary, the Chaplet, and Novenas. I was raised charismatic fundamentalist Christian as a child and such things were explicitly forbidden. I remember getting a long talking to when I'd taken to reading about Sainte Jeanne d'Arc. So they aren't loaded for me the way they are for others, but they’re situated in this fundamentally familiar context that makes them feel like meeting a cool branch of the family you didn't realize existed.

I'm finishing a Novena to a Saint I've been praying to in the next few weeks. I am admittedly not as close with her as I'd like to be. I'm trying to figure out how to move forward with her as I'd really like to have her in my life. I will probably reach back out to Sainte Jeanne d'Arc as she's always felt familiar and been good to me. I also keep her prayer card and medallion in my wallet and have for many years so maybe there's more to build from there. It is my goal to have about 3 saints/Christian figures I can call on when I need help. I'm thinking of approaching Mary Undoer of Knots next but I'm worried it'll follow the same path as this current saint.

My partner and I bought Rosaries back in May and I absolutely love it. I've been saying at least a 5 decade rosary for most days but I'm regularly getting in a 15 decade rosary. I really love it and am totally convinced of the beauty and effectiveness of the system. I've come to understand Christianity in a totally different light through praying it regularly.

So that is on going and evolving and I'd love to hear from people who've cultivated close relationships with a Saint or Angel.

Ancestors

One thing that working with Christianity again has made easier is praying to ancestors. I've often felt a bit at odds with my own ancestors as they were not the most supportive of trans and queer people (and I am both of those) but in coming back to Christianity has given me and my ancestors a common language almost. As long as my disagreement with them over my attraction and gender identity is rooted in the Bible, it's been easier to work with them.

It's very early days with ancestor work. I'm slowly working my way through Ancestral Healing by Daniel Foor. But I'm feeling very heartened by it. I saw a post on twitter somewhere, if I can find it again I'll link it, where someone said that the way they started working with their ancestors was just thanking them everyday. And thanking my ancestors is complicated for me, my family like most have their own issues that also go passed on, but thanking them for what I am glad they gave me has been really beneficial.

My partner requested some divination from me when some of her medical issues were starting to get worse and part of the reading involved a strong push for her to investigate her father's side of the family. She got really into genealogy in the process and she's been teaching me a lot. Through that I actually learned my great grandfather's name for the first time - yes that's how out of touch I am with my own family history. But I was thankful to find out.

Through her own research, my partner found out that that branch of her family likely isn't German but actually German speaking Hungarians which was a revelation. She's in the process of confirming but it got us talking about foods and identity and language and how to honor our ancestors more regularly. We're going to try making a nice dinner on Full Moons with dishes that are tied to branches of our family as a way to trying to cultivate a closer relationship with them. I'll definitely update on that as it evolves.

Conclusion + Some Thoughts on Disability

I'm definitely still in the early days of all of this. It's not become quite the foundation I hope it will be yet. I still need to figure out how to continue and deepen my deity relationships. I still need to attempt some different types of spellwork I've been meaning to. And while I didn't talk about it much here, astrology has been playing a huge role in my practice but mostly in a passive way. More of that divination process I talked about in the beginning where I make predictions based on the charts I'm seeing and then double check my work.

I’ve been doing all this while in the thick of a bad flare. Moving plus lack of sleep as meant my disability has been weighing so much harder on me lately. Normally when I’m feeling well enough, I kind of roll my eyes at a lot of the “spoonie witchcraft” posts I see, but for some reason with this flare they just started making me angry and I’m still trying to parse why. I think I just feel like so many are rooted in this performative idea of “feeling” witchy rather than actually helping me with my disability. They aren’t usually focused on practices that either actually treat the pain I’m in or bring my spirit real comfort. 

I’m really hoping to put together a post or possibly a zine that does provide what I always wanted those posts to be. Honestly these pillars here have proven accessible even as I’ve been in some of the worst pain I’ve been in in years. So for any fellow disabled folks who just aren’t getting much out of those posts, I really recommend starting with these. Recite the Orphic Hymn for the day in the corresponding hour. Pray the Rosary or an adapted set of prayers for Pagan prayer beads. Don’t have much money for those? Look up how to make knotted rosaries and adapt the method. Pray to your ancestors and give them some water and a bit to eat. These are doable for a lot of folks even when they’re in bad shape, especially if you take your time with it. Might not make you “feel witchy” but they do some fucking work, that’s for sure. But idk, those are just my thoughts on it. 

So it hasn't all fallen into place yet but I wanted to share what developing a practice looks like in medias res. It's messy, somethings work better than others, but all and all I'm just glad to finally be making meaningful progress again.