#the thing about being reminded of terrible shit is that its unexpected- it's something that jsut comes about when youre doin your own thing

[writingmeraki]

hazy eyes, clear thoughts I

a roronoa zoro imagine !

synopsis : in which letting your drunken mouth spill your sober thoughts leads you to a very unexpected consequence. ( read: everyone saw it coming except you and **** )

pairing : opla!zoro x gn!reader, idiots to lovers!

genre : disgustingly fluffy fluff, five tablespoons of angst and probable romance.

warnings : cussing, mentions of alcohol and getting wasted, zoro kinda mean, probably terrible humour, shit ton of giggling, also very all over the place but kinda cute? not entirely proofread, also lmk if I forgot to add any other warning !

author's note : well oh well, look we have another totally not self indulgent zoro oneshot/drabble/imagine n e ways I hit a sort of weird point of the series, I'm stuck but i am like 87% done with ch 1?? i hope I'll be able to do it soon enough ^^ tysm for ur patience !! let me know what you think of this! also PART 2?!? ( I need to know if people wanna read this randomness further 😆😅🤣👍🏽)

word count : 4.8k

gif creds !

 “Oh-kay! I think that’s enough!”

You frowned when Nami took the drink from your hand, whining in protest when she kept it further away which she knew your drunken self would be unable to reach.

“B-but it’s good, it’s making me happy!” You giggled as you pointed at yourself and then pouted, pulling your manipulative tactic, one you did a lot when you wanted something especially one you did when you were shit-face drunk. 

With large doey eyes, you pleaded at her, “You don’t want me to be sad right? I’ll be sad if you don’t give me- that.” You pointed in a direction you thought she placed the beer but of course, it was way off.

“See, you can’t even make out where I’ve placed the beer! I don’t care if it makes you upset and honestly, it was fun to see you make a fool out of yourself, but now it’s just…sad.” She sighed, a tone of sympathy as she finished her sentence,

“I know why you’re drinking and it’s not a good way to distract yourself from your feelings! Drinking worsens the problem!” She scolded you to which you now felt a small anger form within you.

“Well then, how else am I supposed to get rid of this dread and just stupidity huh? Being sober is a constant reminder!” 

“Your feelings aren’t stupid! You like him, I’d say even love! You can’t just assume your feelings are invalid not until you know how the other person feels!” Your best friend felt a rage you’d feel if you saw someone you care about demean their feelings, a sort of anger at them hidden with laces of sympathy.

“He doesn’t fucking care! He only cares about his promises and that’s…that’s his life, his own…way of living so it’s fine!”

“Feelings to him are just…distractions.” You gulped as you recalled the way he replied to Luffy when the Captain was teasing him about falling in love. 

[ a few moments ago ]

“Zoro, don’t you think you should consider finding a partner, don’t you also want to fall in love and experience all the magical things that come with it?” Luffy teased as you all sat around a barrel, deciding to just hang out after a busy day. 

Zoro had a beer in one hand as he took a sip and then rolled his eyes, you’d been seeing his reaction, undoubtedly your heart picking up its pace when you heard the question. 

“I don’t need love, or call it a partner if you will. I already have enough on my plate, all that so-called magical stuff is just a distraction.” He replied, with no hesitation which left no option but for the listeners to believe his words.

Just because he’d spoken his opinion, it didn’t mean it hurt less. You knew it though, from the start that Zoro was a determined individual. Despite having his own goals, he also cared about others like Luffy even though he didn't show it much, less that he said it verbally.

It was what made you like him in the first place. After all, what’s more, better than a man who knows what he wants, is determined to get what he wants, cares for those he considers his friends, and the bonus cherry on top being he was quite easy on the eyes too. 

A whole package indeed. 

And you didn’t even know when your supposed “I admire him as a person to look up to” turned into “Oh, I think I am in love with him.” 

But ah, that’s the beauty of love and all the magical stuff, isn’t it? You never know when you’ll be the one who finally falls into it.

That’s why, after hearing his words, you felt your heart sink just a little. Screw it, you think you felt it weigh a shit ton and sink to the very pit of your stomach. 

Nami, oh Nami, what a friend she was truly, because immediately her eyes darted to you after Zoro’s words and she saw your expression go down just as quickly as Zoro downed his bottle of beer. 

Luffy chuckled, of course, he would, the poor lad was just teasing in the first place anyway to irk Zoro and obviously, he didn’t know about poor old you’s feelings. 

I think I need to go. 

It sucked how you couldn’t refute against him. How you couldn’t yell that love is not just a “distraction”, love is something that makes one feel more…human. Love is a wonderful thing and how if someone were to experience it, it makes you feel….it makes you feel just happy at being in the presence of the one you, love. Just…love is not…it’s not-

“Uh guys,” You piped up after sensing the tense atmosphere, tense to you anyway since you felt like a seashell was clogged up your throat. 

“I’m gonna go…get some fresh air. Yeah uh- I’ll be behind if you need me.” You abruptly got up, smiling tightly at Luffy, purposefully avoiding Nami’s questioning yet pitiful look and harshly blatantly ignoring how Zoro’s attention turned towards you, about to question you too, his face showing the emotions he’d not show before 5 bottles of beer. 

Sighing quietly, you picked up the drink you’d been downing, still having an adequate portion in it and you thought about it, saying fuck it as you grabbed two more from the stack that was in the middle.

“Continue with…your shenanigans,” You turned around and let your emotions finally show on your face, words repeatedly swinging in your head as you tried to filter them out. 

It’s nothing but a distraction.

And now, a few bottles (2) and a whole lot of giggling later, you may have truly begun to take Zoro’s words seriously. 

“I feel sick, perhaps it’s my heart breaking, see it hurts here the most.” You groaned as you looked out into the sea, pointing to your chest, though inaccurate as you held your right side, the sun appearing as a blurry blight light due to your vision becoming hazier as you got more drunk.

Nami sighed at you, realizing you should probably just be made to go to bed, despite it being only a few hours away from actual nightfall.

“Come on, let’s go, you’ve thought enough,” She stood up, having been sitting beside you on a barrel while you’d been sitting on the same.

She pushed her hand outwards towards you, to which you giggled and you were pretty sure your cheeks ached now. 

“Namii~how do you have-” you pointed your finger out, counting the fingers “-ten fingers! On one hand?!” You continued staring at her hand in awe as she rolled her eyes, a small grin on her face, finding your drunken self a tiny bit cute. 

Suddenly you felt your world stumble as she grabbed you and pulled you upwards, you now decided you did not know how to walk and leaned your entire body weight on her. 

Now, Nami wasn’t a weak person but considering how you were more on the taller side than her while also being a bit more buff due to the immense training you did every day to practice your own skills, you did weigh more.

She quickly made you sit back down when she realized she couldn't possibly carry you, she needed help.

"Stay here 'kay? I'll be back." She told you to which you obediently nodded, which made a genuine grin form on her face.

Maybe she did prefer drunk you who'd follow her orders with no protests.

You looked back at the sea, the sun even lower than before, a type of golden shining on the blues that reminded you of a certain someone's earrings and oh, there it was.

Your thoughts slowly getting consumed by the moss head who despite drinking so much to forget was so embedded deep into your memory and probably heart at this point that even the slightest similarity you saw, be it colors or flowers, reminded you of him. 

Ah, that's love and all its magical stuff am I right? 

Sighing, she made her way back to where the rest of them were, the crew picking up on her presence,

"Where's Y/N? Weren't you bringing them?" 

"Well, for one they are SHIT face drunk, I don't think they are even conscious of where they are right now so I'll need to take them to bed but also, I can't carry them alone." 

She rolled her eyes at the stupidity of drowning yourself in your feelings, quite literally but she knew she wouldn't complain to the rest of them or more so she couldn't.

"Well I'm sure, one of us can help-"

"I'll help you carry them." Zoro interrupted your captain who was just about to suggest him. If there was one who could probably carry anything heavy too, it was him of course. 

Nami eyed him curiously, she did know he wasn't ready to do…kind deeds, not unless it helped him in some way. Though, she thinks, you may just be an exception.

He stood up and walked towards where you were, which was at the back, Nami followed suit to which he turned towards her.

"It's alright if you don't come, I'm pretty sure I'll be able to carry them myself." He said it and Nami narrowed her eyes, half out of suspicion and half out of spite after hearing the cocky undertone to his words. 

Proving that was one corner of his lips being turned upwards, forming an annoyingly handsome smirk that if you saw it, you'd probably be more on the brink of absolutely losing it.

"Take care of them and if they are hurt-" Zoro rolled his eyes at the over-exaggeration, and Nami knew that but as your best friend and a platonic soulmate at this point, she felt she had to say something. 

"I don't mean it that way, you know damn well what I mean." She told firmly, to which a slight confusion did flash in Zoro's eyes but he didn't make it obvious as he glared at her, ready to bicker.

"Nami!" Luckily, Luffy's timing seemed impeccable as he called her, to which she turned around, allowing no further talk.

Zoro just brushed off her words and moved to where you were.

Despite, Zoro admitting to never wanting a partner, it didn't mean though, that he didn't feel. 

He cared. He cared enough for Luffy to stick with him. He cared enough to fulfill a promise. 

And he cared for you too as he saw you sleeping soundly, laying your head on the ship, using your hands as a makeshift pillow. 

And yet, he somehow knew it was different. It was different from how he cared for others. 

He gulped as he moved closer, now being able to see your features being highlighted by the afterglow of the sun setting. 

It was as though you were the sun's favorite child at the moment, touching parts of your face softly, careful enough to not awaken you yet enough to rest on it to make it golden. 

The evening breeze couldn't have picked a better time to pass as strands of your hair messily moved, your face scrunching up in disturbance. 

He didn't even perceive how he'd reached you and was actually touching strands of your hair to push them back in place so as to not disturb your sleep. 

He wasn't even a gentle person, but he was using soft fingers with even softer touches to push them back. 

He figured he should in fact take you back to your bed, well shared bed with Nami. 

Deciding there was no need to wake you up, he moved beside you, putting one arm underneath your knees while the other looped just above your waist and below your chest. 

You blinked open your eyes when you felt yourself floating, it seemed like you were floating for a brief second, engulfed by warm clouds and a nice pillow that was-

You looked up and saw the side profile of someone. 

They seemed familiar. 

A glint of gold caught your eye as you put your left arm up and poked the earring, giggling as you saw it move.

"Wow, pretty," You think you'd seen it but your eyes being hazier than before after your mini nap seemed to only make your vision more blurry.

The sudden exhale and whisper down his neck almost made Zoro trip as he didn't really expect you to be up.

He was just near your shared room.

"Where are you taking me? Who are you?" You asked the important questions now, your mushed brain being able to form somewhat coherent thoughts. 

"You- you don't know who I am?" He asked you, confusion in his features and then remembering why you were lost. 

Right, practically wasted. And apparently memory loss due to being wasted.

He pushed the door open, as flimsy as it was, careful to not eventually break it down.

You looked around your surroundings, now even more lost as to where you actually were.

You squealed as he let you down, immediately realizing it was a terrible idea when you almost toppled over, unable to hold your own weight as he pushed his arm around your waist.

You held onto the man's shirt as you tried not to trip and fall.

"Here I'll just- I'll get you to bed." He guided you towards your bed, hand still wrapped around your waist as he looped yours over his neck. 

You plopped down with your eyes shut, your head began spinning when you almost tripped and you groaned in regret.

"Drinking too much was such a bad idea, like all my decisions lately." You put your hand on your forehead as you tried to rub the forming headache away. 

Hearing a walking sound, you peered your eyes open. Half-open anyways as you still couldn't make out well anything.

You could see the supposed stranger who'd help you till your bed was going to turn around and likely go but at that moment, you decided you didn't really want to be…alone.

Grabbing his hand before he moved away, you pulled him back with all your force. It didn't phase his movements much though other than him halting. 

Zoro turned back to you after deciding he should probably leave before he either said something he'd regret or worse, did something he'd regret. 

It wasn't his fault though with how…cute you looked as you plopped down, making him want to ki-

"Stay…please." You whispered to him, still holding onto his wrist as you blinked at him.

A familiar green color sat on top of his head but you figured it was a common color despite being sober you absolutely made fun of it when you could about how uncommon it was but also whined about how unfairly good it looked on him. 

The same him who looked at you in confusion and disbelief,

"You want me to stay, right now? With you?"

“Of course! I feel quite alone right now, maybe the company will make me feel better here.” You let go of his arm, the loss of your colder hand in contrast to his warm skin making him slightly frown. 

You pointed at your chest, surprisingly getting it right this time by pointing toward your left side.

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, “Does your chest hurt or something?” 

There was a slight concern in his tone, one which made you giggle. 

“Not- not physically silly, it’s- it’s my heart, it feels like it’s been gutted- wait no too- too gruesome, it feels like someone just punched it and it broke.” As you blubbered about your heartbroken state, your words made him more curious and concerned.

He decided he should probably hear you out, after all despite not being a great talker, he’d consider himself a decent listener. 

Grabbing the barrel you used as a chair placed under your makeshift desk, he moved to sit beside your bed. 

“It’s ridiculous. I should have known there was no chance, but it isn’t like you get a choice sometimes on how you should feel about someone, it just…happens.” You spoke softly, as Zoro turned his attention toward you, wondering who was this person who’d caused you to feel so…sad. 

He didn’t realize it but he felt a slow anger build up, one he excused as frustration due to your mumbling but not one out of simply, probably, jealousy.

Yes, he was jealous of….this person because it sure as hell seemed as though you were deeply in love to have been feeling like this. 

Ironic.

“Why do I even like him?” Oh, he definitely did not want to hear you talk about him, he decided.

Screw being a good listener, he was already in a crisis when Luffy put him on the spot asking about whether he’d want a lover or not, and then him trying his best not to divert his gaze towards you, so instead he chose an option ( one he’d regret later on ) and gave a seemingly believable answer. 

Maybe a while ago, he’d have stuck to that answer, and actually no, he was sticking to it, quite well too.

That was until you stumbled onto the crew or more like in true Luffy fashion, were persuaded enough to stay. 

At first, he didn’t care enough. It was more so he didn’t particularly like you too. You were what he was not. Careless, overly enthusiastic at times, and way too optimistic for your own good. You looked to see the good in everyone, believing that there was always some sort of goodness in everyone.

Zoro found that stupid, knowing how reality was always different. Everyone is and will always be selfish for their own greed. He was too, he wanted to fulfill his promise and that was it. 

That was his goal and nothing else really mattered to him.

It’s what he thought would remain the same till he accomplished it but a sudden diversion came in the form of well…you.

He didn’t even realize it but the annoyance he’d get when he heard your lame jokes turned into him looking away from your silly smile to try and hide his own forming grin.

How he’d always automatically be looking for you if they’d stop at an island, choosing to follow you and dismissing Nami’s suspicious glances by saying you’d likely do something stupid that might put everyone in danger if left alone.

It was funny what this could make anyone feel. He didn’t ever feel like this, he didn’t even want to admit he was close to feeling but how long could a person remain in denial?

He was in love with you. 

He couldn’t simply excuse his heart racing at your presence as simply annoyance, he couldn’t excuse finding pretty flowers and them reminding him of you as well….yeah you get the point. 

That revelation honestly made him spiral into a sort of existential crisis. 

So he decided it was best to do one thing.

Ignore it. Ignore everything and simply wait until it all fades away. 

But silly him, he didn’t know one thing about love and he assumed it was something that fades away, yet there it was, in his gaze as it softened and in his heart as it sunk slowly like an anchor. 

Clogging his throat as if he couldn’t simply breathe when you admitted to being in love with someone, someone who wasn’t him.

Ah love and its magical stuff, yet why does he feel like it's more of a curse right now? 

He opened his mouth, and closed it again, resembling a fish and it felt like he wanted to say everything yet nothing.

They probably don’t deserve you. 

The thought resonated in his head, but really who was he to say so because did someone like you even deserve him?

Turning to face him completely, ducking your hand under your head, you blinked at him slowly, a grin forming on your face as you saw the stranger’s hair.

“You…you remind me of him, your hair, it’s that ugly color.” You softly giggled to which Zoro was left in yet a contradiction of emotions, whether or not he should feel offended or light over the sound of your soft giggles. 

Wait. 

“Come closer, I’ll tell you a secret.” He blinked at you, trying not to show any emotions and wondering if you’d ever even talk to him like this sober.

Deciding to follow what you said, something he’d never do if you were sober, he leaned in, putting one arm as support to hold him due to the slightly uncomfortable position. 

“I- don’t laugh at me first of all, it’s ridiculous, Nami says I’m being too much of a coward not saying it upfront.” You looked at him to which he nodded, in your mind you presumed it was reassurance and agreeing to not find you ridiculous.

Somehow, despite you not knowing who was in front of you, your heart was picking up in pace and you felt a slight nervousness, actually, you almost felt like throwing up.

As if you were just about to actually…

“I think, actually no, I am definitely in love with Zoro.”

…confess to Zoro. 

Good thing, Zoro had quick reflexes because he felt his arm slip and if it weren’t for those quick reflexes, he’d have fallen face-first into the ground. He sat up straighter as if what he heard had physically burned him. 

“It sounds ridiculous, falling in love with someone like him but he’s actually a very loveable person, at least once he begins to get more…more comfortable around you. He talks less, shows emotions or any reactions even less, always carrying around a bitch face- Nami says so- but-but he also cares through his actions like-like that one time he found Luffy’s straw hat when he thought he lost- he spent hours helping him look for it and trying to keep Luffy from crying and then, then this other time he stayed up all night when I got hurt and wasn’t able to sleep. And-and there’s sooo many other times he’s done, the small things, he cares for that.”

“You know. I think that was when I knew I loved him.  When he didn’t need to stay up, yet he did to make sure I didn’t die or something.” You finished with a soft giggle as memories of that day flashed in front of your closed eyes. 

Suddenly he felt way warmer than the room was. 

“I know, I know you’ll…you’ll call me stupid for loving someone who’s already in fact rejected me, not-not to my face of course but indirectly I suppose.”

Wait, what?

Rejected you?

How could he do that when- when he didn’t-

“I hate this! I hate the way I feel, it- it’s making me feel pathetic.” Your words slurred as you whined, using your makeshift pillow to groan into.

“Who said love is magical? It’s pathetic! It makes you stupid enough to have stupid hopes that only make you fly high until suddenly the actual reality crashes you down hard.” You spoke somberly, your words slowly fading out as you gave into the alcohol-induced sleep.

“Love is…pathetic. But- but I love him. So much. I love…you.” The last word came out as a hush as you exhaled, shutting your eyes and letting go of the pillow as you finally got knocked out. 

It pained him to see you call yourself pathetic…all while being the reason you felt that way. 

Zoro was conflicted. The contradiction of emotions making him all do,

Nothing. 

He was frozen. He couldn't say a word, couldn't raise his hand to rub your back to perhaps comfort you. 

His mind was in more chaos, your words replaying like a loop. 

And finally, he came to a conclusion.

I need a drink. Fuck, maybe even three. 

Perhaps if you were awake, it’d be a different reaction. Perhaps if you weren’t drunk, you’d have not said it. 

The idea of you then getting over him, probably because you’d think he rejected you indirectly due to his words. This left a more bitter aftertaste in his mouth and mind than the beer he just downed.

He left your side, deciding he needed a breather to process what he’d just been told. He made sure you’d be in a comfortable position, placing your arms to your sides and even draped a sad excuse of a blanket, one that you brought yourself of an old woman when you had stopped at an island and one you loved, sad excuse because it was very thin but apparently you couldn’t sleep without it. 

He had turned back to you, one more time, about to say something but he just sighed and turned around, walking away to where he was now. 

Now, almost halfway through the crate of beers, he still couldn’t get rid of the confusion. 

Did- did you mean it?

It was conflicting because for one you said it under the influence, maybe you’d even meant someone else and just said his name by mistake. He hated that, so he chose to focus on you saying it solely for him. 

“Why-just why are you trying to die of alcohol poisoning? What is up with you idiots drinking like maniacs today?” A voice said in both disgust and concern as she walked up beside him, facing the sea, and then looking at him, the concern being evident as she saw the conflict of emotions on his face.

She knew he wasn’t one to speak up, it was rather his body language and eyes that spoke what he felt. 

He just sighed, taking a smaller sip of the drink, placing both arms on the side of the ship, and observing the waves.

Nami truly wondered what could have happened until she realized. 

“Did something happen with Y/N?” She cooly asked, observing his expression and surely enough a change of emotion was seen with the way he suddenly stiffened up.

“Nothing remarkable–”

“Oh cut the crap Zoro, you look like someone stole your fucking swords and threw them into the sea.” 

Now he turned towards her, a slight look of horror while he narrowed his eyes at her,

“That’s oddly specific.”

“Won’t deny anything. But, don’t change the topic.”

“They told’ you something?” She figured she should just straight up ask it, put it out in the blue, out of the bad.

Zoro contemplated whether he should spill it, feeling like maybe it would be invading your privacy but even if he didn’t want to admit it, he needed some sort of advice. 

“They- uh told me they lo- well see-” He shifted his attention back to the sea, finding it hard to say it to her face without giving away much. 

Technically you confessed but also you didn’t? You ranted about being in love with Zoro and how you wished you didn’t, you did that thinking you were spilling it to a stranger but it was the man himself so is that a confession? 

“So they finally did it?” He turned towards her raising his eyebrows in question, “They confessed?” 

Now he was surprised but how accurate she was, “ They are too coward- no offense- to do it while sober so ‘figured from the way you look like” She pointed towards his face with her finger “They either kissed you, which doesn’t seem evident from your face not being smothered with lipgloss, they confessed.” 

He gulped from his active imagination flashing a picture of you kissing him and how-

“But why are you so freaked out then? Shouldn’t you be happy your silly little crush is mutual?”

“It wasn’t a confession. More like a rant, they thought I was someone else and they basically spewed it all, and wait what do you mean mutual- I don’t uh-”

“Oh don't give that bullshit now. I know- in fact, even a blind person could see how in love you are with them.” 

Zoro didn’t know whether to get offended or embarrassed if it were really that obvious. He exhaled heavily, clearly not satisfied with the situation still. 

“What if they don’t even remember? What if they begin to ignore me because they think I don’t like them?” 

“Well you did say you weren’t looking for a partner or so on, did you forget that idiot?” Nami shook her head as she rolled her eyes at him.

“I-well- It wasn’t intentional! I panicked!”

“And now this is your consequence. Though there’s a simple solution to this crisis which isn’t a crisis actually, it’s pretty straightforward.”

Now he was curious, a way to solve this whole catastrophe? 

“Since you think they’ll forget by morning, how about you confront them then?”

“In the morning, you clear out your feelings before you dumbasses end up avoiding each other to purposefully brush this aside and I swear! I swear if it gets awkward because you both won’t look past your egos, I’ll force you into the damn cabin and lock you there to talk.”

Nam smiled sweetly, yet a threat underlined beneath her final words and Zoro thought of the only thing he should do now.

“Fine then.”

“I’ll talk. I’ll…confess to everything.”

all written works as well as images and edits (unless credited) belong to pri.do not plagiarise, repost, re-edit or claim as yours. pics mostly found on pinterest.

writingmeraki Ⓒ 2023

feedback is always appreciated 💗

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[lou-struck]

Saying Goodbye

Leviathan x reader

~After an unexpected loss, you and his brothers help Levi say goodbye to someone special to him.

Warnings: *Death of a fictional character. Everyone being nice to Levi for a change.

In the House of Lamination, the most peaceful time of day is the early hours between three and five am. 

Satan has long since fallen asleep with a book in his lap.

Beel's Midnight cravings have come and gone.

And Asmodeus' eight-hour face mask has not cracked.

The only Demon in the house who would be up at this hour is Leviathan. Who hasn't slept a wink. How could he? He has games to play and animes to watch. You do wonder when he does manage to get some sleep.

But when sleep evades you, he is the one whose room you come padding into in the middle of the night when you long for a bit of company. Usually, he'll give you a snack and hand you a controller until you eventually doze off in his Bathtub. The sound of clicking buttons and RPG map music acts as a sort of white noise machine. 

But tonight, as you approach his room. The blood-curdling scream of anguish that echoes through the halls has you stopping in your slippered tracks. That was definitely Levi's scream.

All the doors in the Hallway open at once, and each brother rushes toward the sound of the scream. With a gust-twisting expression of concern, Lucifer reaches the door first, Swinging it open so aggressively you are surprised the whole thing didn't fly off its hinges. 

You don't hear much from the inside, just the quiet sobbing of Levi and the gentle murmuring of Lucifer as you and the other brothers step inside, surrounding the Otaku, who is curled up on one of his plush beanbag chairs in the fetal position.

"They're dead," he sobs into one of his pillows. 

"Shhhh," Asmodeus soothes, rubbing his brother's back, "Who died, Levi?"

Through his sobs, you are able to make out a jumble of syllables that would've sounded like a name if he weren't so distraught. Just as you are about to softly ask him to repeat it, Satan places a hand on your shoulder to stop you. "It's a character from the anime he was watching earlier."

Everything makes sense now. Levi considers these characters his most genuine friends outside you and his brothers. Losing one so suddenly must've shocked the poor guy.

Beel's gaze softens as he nods thoughtfully. "That character was the one you were telling me about, right? The one with Rui Chan's voice actor?

Shit… your eyes widen as you begin to understand how serious this loss is to Leviathan. Even Henry seems to be hiding away in his little fish palace. "Levi… I'm so sorry," you murmur. He picks his head up at the sound of your voice. Fat tears run down his face and his purple locks messily stick to his forehead. 

"MC," he cries, lunging forward, clutching your hand in both of his. "Isn't it t-terrible, Viv's gone" In his grief, he doesn't notice that he is practically on top of you. Otherwise, he would shrink to the floor in a ball of awkward embarrassment. You hear someone (Mammon) start to complain about his proximity to you, but he is quickly shut up by his other brothers.

"It really is. I know how much she meant to you, Levi," you say, trying your best to think of something that would help him. 

The last time one of his favorite characters died unexpectedly, he didn't leave his room for weeks; anything that reminded him of the character would send him into a bout of tears, causing some pretty severe water damage to some of his Manga collection, having to toss away such special editions from his collection started the whole grieving process all over again. You remember watching the teary-eyed Otaku say goodbye to one of the copies he was able to get signed.

Goodbye…

That's it!

"Hey Levi," you say gently, your hand swiping away a piece of hair from his forehead. "What if we were to do something for Viv? I think it would help you get some closure."

"C-closure?" he sniffles, glancing up at you. You can make up the dark tear stains on your blazer, but you don't mind it. Not when he is so distraught.

Yea, closure. Something to help you say goodbye to them." you say, the gears turning in your mind. "We could have a little funeral for them."

"T-that sounds nice." he stutters, wiping away his tears streaks with the back of his sleeve, "Thank you, Mc. Could we do it tonight?"

You pause, glancing at the others, who nod in agreement. "Of course we can, Levi," you say wholeheartedly. The sooner you are able to help him get the closure he needs. The sooner you and the other can rest easy knowing that he is alright.

~

It's been a few hours since Levi's initial meltdown, and everyone in the House of Lamination is rushing around planning their first-ever fictional character celebration of life.

Satan took it upon himself to read through the manga the anime was adapted from so that you could learn as much about Viv as possible. Finding her favorite foods, birthday, favorite animal, and other things could help in the planning process.

Asmodeus has spent this time decorating for the Celebration and has picked out everyone's outfits. Saying something about wanting to put the fun in the funeral.

Beel even went to pick up some of Levi's favorite snacks since he figured he hadn't eaten since hearing the news. Even managing to make it home without eating very many of them. The display of brotherly love warms your heart as you see how quickly the brothers can pull off any kind of event for one of their own. 

But now the tables are set, and you are dressed to the nines. You hope that all of your hard work will help the heartbroken Otaku. Who has yet to arrive.

"Where is he?" Asmodeus whines, looking at the time on his DDD. "If I don't get my beauty sleep, we'll have to plan a funeral for the loss of my smooth skin."

"Shhh, quiet." Lucifer scolds, flicking the back of his brother's head. "He's coming, don't make a scene."

Turning your head, you see Levi slowly making his way towards the rest of the group, his head hung low, and his dark suit looks like it hasn't been properly buttoned. 

"S-sorry I'm late," he breathes, new tears trickling down his face as he stares soberly at the tiles on the ground.

"No worries, Levi, you're the guest of honor. Take all the time you need," you say comfortingly. Closing the space between the two of you, you are able to get a closer look at him. His suit is messily buttoned, and his necktie hands loosely around his neck, a pathetic knot keeping it in place. "Here, let me fix these for you," Carefully, you fix the out-of-place buttons and retie his necktie. 

"Much better," you smile, wanting to test the waters a little bit." You look very handsome, Levi." and you mean it.

As your sincere compliment washes over the sullen Demon, his eyes widen in shock as his face turns beet red; his usual blush makes you feel at ease. The old Levi seems to be peeking out through the grief. 

"T-thank you, Mc, y-you look nice too." Levi's adorably flustered stammering has Mammon struggling to hide his laughter, and he becomes the second brother thwacked in the head by Lucifer today.

"Now that Levi's here, let's get this thing started." Asmo cheers twisting open a bright pink bottle of fruity demonus. He has a great attitude about the whole thing; he just doesn't really understand the point of having a funeral.

"Levi, would you like to start things off by saying a few words about the deceased?" Lucifer asks, placing a supportive hand on the Otaku's shoulder. 

You watch as he clenches his fists, trying to compose himself to give Viv the respect they deserve, but you think he needs a bit more encouragement. "Levi, this is something only you can do," you say encouragingly. "This is about more than just saying goodbye to Viv; it is celebrating who they were."

"You're right; I'll do it," he sighs, loosening his grip and looking around the room at each and every one of his brothers. The six demons before him gaze at him with nothing but support and unconditional love.

With one last lingering look at you, his dear human. He puffs out his chest he steps forward, ready to say goodbye.

[tenshindon]

that oughta hurt

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

The Stolen Umbrella || TUA Rewrite --- ꒰ run boy, run pt. 11 ꒱

A Diego Hargreeves x F!Reader Series

𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘭 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘝𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘢, 𝘍𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘸𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘦𝘺𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘶𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘭. 𝘋𝘪𝘦𝘨𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘙𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘥'𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘦𝘳?

☂︎ 𝔱𝔰𝔲 | ❛ ᴀ ��ɪɢʜᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ꜱᴏʀᴇ ᴇʏᴇꜱ ❜

CW⚠️ : Diego being the flirty little shit he is, descriptions of dead bodies (canon deaths from Five's flashback), a ridiculously long chapter (this is what happens when you have me go offscript, its basically just all you and Diego fluff, its kinda crazy) please take breaks and rest your eyes

a.n.📝: these warnings tho. I'm not kidding, 90-95% of this 9k chapter is Diego x Reader fluff to make up for ep 1. I hope you enjoy, and I hope you can understand why it took me so long 😅 + I recommend listening to Majestic by Wax Fang and keep the roof scene in mind - only if you're interested ofc

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

❛❛ 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘, ❜❜ That's what Diego had told you. Those exact words, ironic as they were, became the very three words it took for your heart to trust his completely and truly.

You hadn't realized it, not like Diego had. But the sun had already begun to set on today. Days were far, far quicker above ground than they were below. And that was after the fact you had been up on the roof most of that day. But you couldn't help it. You were lost in your head, drunk on the view and the taste of freedom.

You were certain you would never forget the feeling you first stepped onto the academy's roof. As sure as Diego was certain he'd never forget taking you there.

The trip up had your stomach in knots. Despite his reassuring words, the events of the past half-hour were still much too fresh. But, you tried to remind yourself, so were his actions thereafter. You couldn't stop thinking about the little things. Like him asking to enter your space. He always did that.

And that meant something.

You decided to take it as a good sign you were traveling up rather than down, though that did little to quell any budding fears when you reached the top of a singular stairwell. At the top, shining through the dark, were three prominent strips of electric blue light. They would have reminded you of G.R.E.G.O.R.Y.'s face had it not looked like daylight fighting its way through the cracks of a door. And as you soon found out, that's exactly what it was.

It opened slowly and with a terrible creak. The air getting vacuumed inside and over your skin still wasn't the most startling thing, and neither was the blinding light flooding in. It was the view marvelously laid out before you when your eyes finally adjusted to the light.

It was tempting to get confused; standing all around you and Diego were brick walls with several detailed arches leading out to the rest of the roof.

But you were too focused on the sky. The clouds had all but faded away, leaving the sky a beautiful baby blue. Little white wisps of clouds were smeared across like paint. G.R.E.G.O.R.Y. taught you all about the clouds, the water cycle—everything a child typically learns. But he never told you how beautiful they were. He never told you how entrancing it was to watch them glide across the sky if you watched carefully enough.

A powerful gust of wind swept through, nearly knocking you off your feet in your trance. You hadn't even realized Diego had gently been guiding you along to the center of the roof with you on his arm until the wind crashed over you. Neither were you aware of the way he had been observing your reaction. Diego was finding it harder and harder to hold back his growing interests in you; you were so endlessly curious to him. In the most unexpected ways.

An image he had failed to shake from his mind was that of your first taste of freedom. Diego would have allowed himself to consider it such a privilege to witness it, had he not been blaming himself for finding you sooner. For even being associated with that man in any manner. But he would be lying if he said he hadn't been yearning to see another glimpse.

He saw it in your eyes now. The way your e/c irises were magnified behind the pools growing in your eyelids. Your jaw hung slack, pulled apart in a glorious smile as the wind whipped at your collar. It was clear you were trying to soak up every detail. And so was Diego.

"Diego..." You break free from your spell long enough to meet his gaze with a look he can't quite place.

Diego is unable to bite back the confident smirk poking into his cheekbones. "You like it?" Joyous laughter is your response and his chest swells with pride. Strolling further down the old moss-dusted path, the two of you gladly took in your surroundings with care.

The roof you now found yourselves on was half bathed in afternoon sunlight, setting every leaf of topiary ablaze with green. Vines crawled up the brick walls of the adjoining buildings, moss leaked from the mortar and the small fields of grass at your disposal stood tall from lack of care.

Looking down at the brick beneath your feet, you note the enormous brass symbols worked into the ground; a "U" and an "A" overlapping one another.

"Umbrella Academy," Diego said, once again reading your mind. You tore your eyes up from the signet and at Diego. He sounded different. The way he sounds when he talks about his father, the Monocle, you noted. It saddened you, and so did the faraway look he was disappearing into. "You see, we're like you,"

Your earlier conversation with Luther came rushing back as he spoke. Superstrength. That was Luther's special. But you realized you didn't know Diego's. Now didn't feel the proper time to ask, so you remained silent.

"We all have things we can do," With a bitter edge in his voice, Diego gazes wistfully down at the bronze signet. "Well, turns out, that's the reason he wanted us in the first place. We were out saving the world before most of us had even gotten acne," With a bitter breath you barely caught, he gestured to the symbol laid out before the two of you and met your eyes with shockingly little sadness. It was as if he had accepted it long ago. "Called us, the Umbrella Academy,"

The name drew so many questions. For both of your sakes, you decided you'd much rather focus on that than the friction building in your blood that came with the anger in hearing such things. The curiosity was written clearly on your face as you studied the pavement with a small tilt of your head. "You had umbrellas?"

He barely managed a breathy chuckle. "No," he answered lightly, already feeling disarmed. "It was just a name. He named us after him."

A scoff broke loose without you thinking, but you didn't regret it. It matched the dissatisfied frown screwed onto your face. Why were you not surprised by this new information?

"You seem upset?" Diego wondered aloud, curious to have caught on to your huff of annoyance.

"Yes," you answer, unable to help the hotness in your tone. "That is very upsetting,"

Were you mad on Diego's behalf or was he imagining things again? He wasn't sure what was more dangerous: how hopeful he was that you were, or him looking for little such moments. Nevertheless, he shook it away. It was hardly appropriate. But how was he to know you were only just wondering similar things.

"He was a very upsetting man," Diego replies. The warmth in his voice betrays his words, as does the fond curiosity lurking beyond his gaze. Thankfully, for him, it seemed to be lost on you.

You were too engrossed in thought. One you decided to voice with great interest. "Your parents..." you spoke slowly, as you had been the longer you spoke. Not for lack of knowledge, but experience. You were nervous and you spoke every syllable carefully in fear of messing up. Almost like you were picturing the words in your mind. "You trusted them?"

Diego didn't give much thought at all. "My mother? Absolutely. My father is another story,"

Thoughtfully, and albeit more than a bit relieved, you nodded. And then a horrible thought crossed your mind. One that plunged spikes of dread in your stomach like a pin cushion. It made your arms around his feel as heavy as lead and it wouldn't be long before you made that true.

"Do--" you winced inwardly at how small your voice came out. You cleared your throat of that sentence, hoping to pull Diego's attention on you, only to find it already was. It was an action you suddenly regretted. "Trust me?"

"I do,"

That doubt returned to your heart. That shadow looming over you like a storm could, telling you this was all a dream. "Why?"

Diego smiled sadly at this.

"I couldn't say for sure," he says, this time not shying away from your you, but instead, locking you in his gaze. He always swears to himself he feels lighter on his feet as you look at him, entrapped, but he doesn't let this break his message to you. He can't. "Trust is... tricky. Sometimes it's obvious, sometimes it doesn't make a lick of sense. And sometimes" his crooked grin spilling this confession has frozen you completely. And he knows it. "it just happens,"

You took his words with such care, but you held them so tight to the heart liquifying in your chest. You couldn't say why, but it just made sense. Maybe you didn't have to understand why. Maybe you just had to trust.

A sharp breath was drawn into your lungs, one that you relished as the cold air lashed at the walls of your nostrils and lungs refreshingly as you returned your attention to the view. The air was nippy, especially from up here, despite the warm blanket of sun fighting its way through the buildings as it made its way to bed. It was so wonderfully surreal and simple and you couldn't get enough of any of it.

Then and there, Diego's promise rang again in your mind. "Where the stars shine the brightest,"

Something jittery swept through your system like electricity—something like excitement. And you were pleased to see it was already spreading to Diego like wildfire. "What?"

"Show me,"

"Show you...?" He chuckled.

Eyes hungrily searching the roof, looking for the best spot, you replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the universe. "Where the stars shine the brightest," Diego found himself tethered to your side with a small 'Woah!' as you wandered along your shared journey on the roof, but he didn't exactly complain. He wasn't the only one to find himself in your subconscious pull; the grass around you swayed like kelp underwater before reaching out for your legs and the overhanging branches nearby bowed regally before you two.

Diego was in a state of wonder, just as much as you were.

"I mean," he scratched behind his ear—the one with the scar—sheepishly. "I hate to say it but this is probably the best spot. Well, other than up there,"

You followed his finer to one of the adjacent buildings. Its roof stood about one story taller, with no stairs, no fire escape, and only a small concrete platform that remained part of a glass shed. A greenhouse, you recalled. The sight painted the largest, cheek-stinging grin anyone had ever worn.

"But I don't see us getting up there without a ladder, but no promises that thing hasn't been eaten by termites-- hey what are you doing?"

Diego really needed to think before he spoke. Already in his jitters, he had forgotten who he was talking to until he found himself pulled along in a gathering sprint. Your hand was locked in his as you lead the way, an untamed grin splitting your cheeks apart as you came alive. The brick wall adjacent to the greenhouse was getting closer and closer.

"Jump and kick," you ordered. "When I say,"

"What?!"

It was the only time you broke your focus away from the wall, and it was lightning fast. But you smiled knowingly. "Trust me,"

"Jump!" Diego did just that and instantly you shifted his world a second time.

It felt like one of those drinking bird desk toys. His whole center of gravity shifted, and suddenly he was falling back down. But not where he came from. The pull started in his gut and fell through his legs—he understood now why you told him to kick—but the most disorienting thing was the journey back to the ground which turned out to be the journey up the wall. The two of you remained in a sprint, but rather than a brick wall lined with ivy as his destination, the scene ahead was nothing but boundless sky. The two of you were running up the side of the building.

When it happened again after the two of you moved onto the second, he wished he could say he had been more prepared. But the truth was his stomach was too busy trying to figure out what was down and what was sideways. Through his popping ears he could make out your jovial laughter and the glimpses he (was pretty sure) he caught through his dizzying vision depicting the grin set free on your face. You were in your element, and he was quite literally just along for the ride.

He guessed he was about as heavy to you as a paperweight, making all the jumping, hurtling, and climbing you did for yourself and him a piece of cake. The sight waiting for him when he opened his eyes wasn't unfamiliar, but it took him a great deal of breathing and clutching steady ground as he catches his bearings enough to recognize you were at least two or three levels up on the roof. Already you were having the most fun you had ever imagined possible. But it didn't last long.

Paranoia set it at his disheveled state, swirling your head with dangerous thoughts. He was sick from what you had done, had that meant his father was right about you?

"Diego!" His head spun but he still made an effort to meet your eyes at the concern laced in your voice.

"I think... I'm gonna hurl," He drew a lazy, out-of-breath smile on his face, and fear's icy grip on your heart loosened. "...We totally gotta do that again,"

Was he serious? You only shook your head, allowing yourself for the first time to enjoy the small the flip of your stomach as you turned away to hide the smothered simper. Diego couldn't help but feel as though the silence you left him in was a little more intentional this time around.

His eyes never left you as you joined him to sit, taking a spot on the ledge nearby. A thick patch of ivy sat under you like a cushion as the two of you looked out onto the city, just barely in the shelter of the shade. The wind whipped at your clothes, but as you dared peer down over your legs and the traffic below, you wondered if it had anything to do with the cars. Your stomach plunged back down underground before you could decide, and your hand latched onto Diego's bicep to steady yourself. Now he was laughing.

You smiled sheepishly at him, and he at you. For reasons you couldn't understand you felt a tiny stutter in your chest when he silently brought your attention to the fact your hand was still on his bicep. Fearing you crossed a line, you drew it back and ignored the heat dusting your ears knowing it would soon be melted in the wind.

So many new feelings, thoughts, and phenomena came with freedom that you couldn't have possibly predicted. Questions, you were expecting. And lots and lots of fear. But not quite an ally in someone so close to The Monocle. Not quite so many laughs. And certainly not this much trust.

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

The world was quiet and still. So unlike Five's mind. He couldn't remember the last time he had known peace and quiet—genuine contentment. He likes to think it was those precious ten years; just him and his best friend, cracking jokes, keeping one another sane. Always looking out for one another. Or, of course, his days with his siblings before everything went to shit. When they were still kids, playing hero and sneaking out to Griddy's every chance they got.

But those days were over. His siblings had lives of their own and the friend he met today was a total stranger. Hell, he might as well have been a ghost.

Five gave himself a disapproving shake of the head as he came to stand at the arching mouth of his destination. Nothing has changed, he reminds himself. She was still lost to him forever.

But not everyone was. Hope still remained, waiting to be reclaimed. Five recalled the day he found her, not that different from how he found his best friend; lost and lonely, just like he was.

Only she had been found right here, in the (not yet) ruins of the department store he found himself at now. Not quite eleven years after the worst day of Five's life, just when he needed her most.

Delores.

With bated breath and starvation for a proper reunion, Five disappeared inside Gimble Brothers in the blink of an eye to retrieve his long-lost love.

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

The setting sun that had set the sky ablaze in a fiery explosion of color was a sight difficult to part with. Even for someone who lived to see a thousand sunsets. And yet, as the evening wore on, you had found it easier and easier to look away and at the man at your side.

"Sunsets," you had whispered, loving the taste of the word on your tongue and actually putting it to something real. "...always like this?"

It was silent for a moment as Diego tried to recall, but nothing came even remotely close. As he took in the sight before him—the deep sapphire sky directly above that somehow fell into a blazing gold where it met the blinding ball of fire disappearing behind the tips of the city—he fished his memory for a time he enjoyed a sunset quite like this one. But the answer was simple. He couldn't.

"Each one has its own charm," he had answered with a knowing grin, pleased to find you were already looking at him.

"Mm," you nodded thoughtfully. Had he caught a twinkle in your eye, he didn't know for sure. You were already turning back to the view, your eyes fluttering closed as a soothing breeze washed over you both.

What had remained of the retreating sun was soaking into your s/c skin, breathing in life and an energy you hadn't seen properly in decades. It was warm and persistent, and you could see it through your eyelids. But you weren't complaining. It was such a wonderful concept to you, the sun; a force locked away so far out of reach, and yet it was impossible to ignore. Nothing could stop its power, it demanded to be seen.

The thought of missing out on even a single one of these made your heart ache. Instead, you chose to focus on Diego. He was enjoying the view too, you could tell. As he sat beside you, basking in the sunlight, you could sense the tension leaving his shoulders and his jaw didn't look as clenched as you normally saw it. His dark eyes were set on the horizon, letting in rays of sun that unveiled hidden undertones of golden brown. And this was the first time you truly took note of the scar stretching from the outermost corner of his cheekbone to the apex of his ear. What stuck with you most was the fact that Diego looked just as relaxed as you were feeling. It made you wonder if this was some form of escape for him as a child. Nothing wrong with asking, right?

With a polite tilt of your head that you were quite proud of, you mustered up the courage to ask him. "Come here often?"

To say Diego was taken by surprise would be the understatement of the century. A low chuckle sparked deep in his chest that had you rethinking everything and sending a delicate heat migrating up each of your faces for very different reasons. While your heart sank, his flittered and for the first time since getting to know Diego, you regretted putting that shy smile of his on his face.

"What?"

He shook his head as he tried (unsuccessfully) to wipe any evidence of his amusement from his face.

"Diego," you had meant to sound assertive, but your embarrassment got the best of you, your voice instead coming out as more of a plea.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he placed a temporary hand on his chest as a sign of apology. "Really. It's just," He has to bite back another smirk to get through his next sentence but he manages to pull it off without laughing. It would have been easier for you to recognize this had you been able to identify the specific glint in his eye. "I wasn't expecting that and-- well, its just... that's kind of a famous pick-up line,"

"A 'pick-up'?"

"Yeah," he shrugged, not quite knowing why he was talking like he was expecting you to know what any of these meant. Maybe he was just nervous. "You know, a come-on,"

Growing exasperated, you shook your head expecting a better answer. "

...'Come on'?" you certainly had no idea what had Diego acting so strange.

He simply cleared his throat and returned his sights on the skyline; the sun had already sunk behind the horizon completely, though its remaining light still cast the sky in a comforting glow. "It's nothing, really. Just something unoriginal people try on others they want to, em," he laughed again but it was the kind to clear the air—you could tell it wasn't at your expense. "Get to know them better,"

It took the wagging of his eyebrows and a few suggestive nods for it to click, but when it did, you were surprised to find yourself laughing along with him. Another heat rose to your face that you buried in your hand. "Oh," you mumbled, suddenly unable to meet his eye right away. "Sorry,"

"Don't be," You don't have to be seeing him to know he wears an untamed grin on his face, you can hear it in his voice. It shouldn't be this infectious.

He felt the pull again. It wasn't strong enough to do anything but send another pleasant shiver down his spine, completely oblivious to the fact you could feel his stare in the side of your head. He liked that you said that, though he probably shouldn't—even though he had understood your question. But Diego could never bring himself to tell you he felt this way. He'd never want to make you uncomfortable, or have you take it the wrong way.

"...I knew what you meant," he said instead. The amusement quickly dwindles when he considers your question and its answer. "And... yeah, I did. When I was younger. Not a whole lot, but, whenever I could. Whenever I needed to get away from my dad."

"It was actually my mom who showed me the beauty in this place," he says after a beat. Diego knows he's taking a risk, but the words come tumbling out anyway. He couldn't help it. His mother was an integral part of his life—he was who he was because of her.

A silence fell on your shoulders as delicately as fallen snow, and a realization much like that of last night when viewing The Monocle's portrait with him hits you. She was still his mother. And the bond they held was something indestructible. You could never bring yourself to stand between them.

You knew what it was like to have your mother removed from your life, and you decided it was something you would never wish on anyone. Particularly Diego.

"She is... special to you," Diego was a bit taken aback at your tone of voice. It had been posed as a question but, the look in your eye was unbridled, somber clarity.

"I survived because of her," he admitted, bowing his head as that very insecurity Grace had chased away threatened to return. His gloved hands catch a wandering leaf, and mindlessly he begins to fiddle with the stem, watching it as he twirls it between his fingers. "You know, I used to have a horrible stutter?"

He chuckled half-heartedly at your softened shock.

"Yeah, I uh," Just picture the word in your mind. "I struggled a lot when I was a kid. 'Specially around my dad. I'd get so knotted up, and every time he'd hear me speak..." he shook his head and sighed, dropping the leaf and watching as it wafted down to the streets below, riding the breeze. "I don't know, it was like he'd secretly get a kick out of it or something. Like it was proof I wasn't good enough."

A wistful smile came to his lips, and it was odd. Odd the way it warmed something in your chest, waking something up—something new.

"Mom was a whole different story. She always believed in me. She saw the potential in me, I mean. She still does, sees it in all of us." That breath—that warmth caught in your throat when his gentle eyes caught yours. Your heart was aching, for more reasons than you could name. All you could bring yourself to do was tether yourself to Diego's next words. "The thing about Grace? She may have been made by him... but she isn't him. I know what you heard back there, and... I'll admit, I can't explain it. But I know that it isn't her."

Realistically, part of you knew this. Part of you knew—part of you trusted by now, Diego would never have put you in such a situation if he knew she truly believed this. But that part of you was still so small, it was barely a concept. Your trust had been shattered long before it could fully be built, and whatever this was with Diego... all you knew was that you wanted to hold it tight.

But trust is tricky. And it goes both ways.

"She protected you,"

His throat tightened at your understanding. "She did,"

"Mine did," your voice was tiny but coarse. The rock lodged in your throat was getting bigger just from acknowledging its existence. Cause you knew what caused it, and it made you feel so damn guilty.

You closed your eyes, willing yourself to swim back down into the murky depths of your memories. Like fighting to make it to the bottom of the deep end of the pool. The deeper you dive the harder you fight not to float right back to the top. Just as you had done so for decades. But your hope was dying out as fast and sure as the memories you chased.

All but the feelings of loss, anger, and fear were lost to time. Including your mother. Though one thing could never be forgotten.

"She is gone," you said. Though the rock in your throat demanded attention and threatened tears, none came. "She died."

All emotion was absent from your voice and your stare. But your grip on the world was another story. Diego's attention was pulled around the roof when he felt the shift. That feeling in his gut was steadily spreading throughout all of his body like the others kind of drug. It felt like his blood was thickening, which only made his increasing heart rate all the more frigid. But nothing compared to feeling your next words brought.

"The Monocle killed her."

Nothing was stopping Diego from believing the sensation sinking him into the ground was of no fault of his own. A manifestation of his guilt. His father—his fucking father. All his life, he had known him to be an abusive, manipulative piece of shit. Who, as of yesterday, was a kidnapper and now a goddamn murder to top it all off. What else was he hiding?!

For a moment, Diego considered letting whatever happened with your powers, happen. If he fell through the roof, he fell through the roof. If he plummeted up into the sky, he plummeted up into the sky—Luther would sure get a good laugh at the odd picture. As long as it meant he didn't open his big mouth and risk taking his anger out on you. It's precisely why he's so surprised when he finds the courage to speak, his voice is somehow coaxing.

"Y/n?"

You tore your eyes away from the twinkling metropolis at the sound of his voice, and little by little your grip retracted. Embarrassed to say he had startled you from your thoughts, but something you couldn't quite name had put you at ease. Maybe it was the way he broke you from your little spill. The way he didn't hold it against you.

"Sorry," you mutter, your arms folding back in over your torso out of habit. It hurt him a little to see. Perhaps it reminded him so much of himself.

"Hey, you don't have to be sorry for that stuff, you know,"

You didn't move a muscle, not so much as a tilt of the head from where it sat. A grating voice rooted into your subconscious was making that hard to believe.

"I don't care whatever he told you," said Diego, plucking the thoughts straight from your head. "I don't believe it."

"You don't know,"

The pause in the air is volumes louder than the words he speaks next. You were right, Diego didn't know what his father said to you. But that didn't change his mind either.

"Yeah, well... Knowing my father, I have a few ideas," Diego has to remind himself where he is, and when he does he feels the reluctant release in his clenched fists.

He feels an inquisitive hole burning itself into the side of his head until he turns to face you. The word he'd use to describe your expression was dumbstruck. Like you weren't quite convinced with whatever you so desperately wanted to believe.

"Not scared? At all?"

For your sake, Diego buries the returning anger for his father. Instead, he shook his head at you and spoke truthfully. "Not even a little,"

It was happening again. The muscles in your cheeks were twitching without your consent before they pulled your lips back in a smile. It felt so strange to smile—it felt so strange to be happy, and giddy. You hardly ever had a reason to be. Anything you thought was happiness in your life with G.R.E.G.O.R.Y and the things he showed you on his screen were instantly proved wrong the moment Diego first showed you the sky. The moment you felt the winds and the sun.

This was bubbly and new. It left a fuzzy feeling in your chest that tickled your lungs until you chuckled, and the muscles in your cheeks hurt. So many foreign feelings were swirling together in coexistence in your chest, but you welcomed the change. Your hands fiddled happily in your lap as Diego matched his grin with yours.

Like you, it was the first time you had truly seen him at ease since the two of you had met.

"I'm serious," you can hear the grin in his voice. "I think it's pretty cool, actually,"

That word caught your ear, and you offered a curious tilt of the head. "It makes you cold?"

He chuckled again, beaming out at the skyline as he licked nervously at his lips. When he looked back at you, you resisted the urge to squirm under his gaze.

"No," he corrected. "Sorry, no. It's just a saying. Like, uh," Your attention on him tempts the stutter in his brain. "To be in awe of something would be, so to speak, awe-some. If something's cool, you think it's great, excellent, whatever... I find it admirable,"

The grin on your face was nearing blinding, but still, you shook your head in disbelief at it all. Two nights ago you were sure you were sooner to die trying to escape your prison than escape. Now you are sitting on the roof, admiring the stars as the son of your captor—Diego, the first person you ever brought yourself to trust—praised your power—your special.

"'Cool'," you repeated, getting a feel for the word on your tongue. Diego hummed in delight.

"Bad-ass," he winked.

His response was shocking enough to elicit an authentic laugh from deep within your belly. You hardly made an effort to hide your grin behind your hand as you gawked at him with aching cheeks. "'Bad ass'!?" You chortled. Surely, that had to be an insult.

Diego's dark brown eyes lit up in amusement at your reaction, no more than the flare of satisfaction in his chest as he laughed with you. "Oh yeah, definitely bad-ass,"

"Is bad-ass... good?"

"The best," he assured, loving the sting in his cheeks. Without even thinking of how you might react, he nudged you playfully with his shoulder but the undisturbed gleam in your eye told him he was fine. "I mean," he puffed his chest out just a little farther and looked out stoically at the horizon, trying to look as goofily-chauvinistic as possible. "I would know this, of course. Being so bad-ass myself," He only broke the facade to gauge your reaction, pleased to see the unimpressed, albeit slightly amused curl of your lip. The dreaded silence in the air was broken by quiet and content chuckles that fizzled out with the slow of traffic down below.

With a sigh of content, your attention returned to the very reason you were here: your neck craned up at the darkening blanket draping over the city as your eyes scoured it for stars. It wasn't long before little white specks crept into view as the sapphire deepened into black, enunciating the endless reach of space. This sight–this moment–was molten bliss. It was searing and heavy, and so overwhelming it made you tired. But you didn't ever want it to end.

Giving in to your body's desires and never taking your sights off the stars, you allowed yourself to lay back on the roof, arms outstretched at your sides and expecting the familiar pain digging into your spine. But you forgot about the carpet of ivy–it was pleasantly soft in its many layers. Funny, came a thought far back in your mind. Funny that a concrete roof was far more comfortable than your room ever was. The same pair of eyes to have been stealing glances at you all day were watching you now—not bothering to hide the gleam that came with you so at peace.

"So," he said, sparing a glimpse at the very stars to have enraptured you. "What'ya think?"

Diego watched as your chest rose and fell with a heavy sigh that expelled the first of so many doubts. A lazy, almost sleepy smile fell upon your lips. "Bad-ass,"

He was too busy chuckling into his lap to see the satisfied grin flash across your face before you returned to the stars.

They were beautiful. They were bright. They were endless. Nothing was holding them back. And standing out amongst them all, vibrant, alluring, and free was one of the very few things you remembered from the outside. One of the very few things that looked exactly as you last left it; You were sure the moon was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen in your life.

"Diego?" it was getting just a bit harder for him to ignore the occasional murmur in his pulse when you said his name. This time, your voice was soft and skeptical. This is exactly why he made certain to match your gentle tone as he turned to look at you.

"Yeah?"

For a beat, you didn't speak. Your bottom lip quivered, willing itself to say the words that felt so wrong to say. Words that, until now, you never had a reason to say.

"Thank you,"

And you knew in your heart you were right to trust your instincts the moment he shook his head with a somber smile. "Don't thank me," he says. He's surprised to hear the words from his mouth almost as much as you are. But it just didn't feel right. Not when his father was responsible. Not when you were right under his nose your entire lives, and he could have helped. He could have stood up to his father, he could have snuck you out somehow. The thought almost felt as familiar as you, the moment he first laid eyes on you through that little window. "Not me,"

It was Diego's turn to try and decipher the look hidden in your eyes—disappointment? contemplation?—when you forced your attention away from him and back on the stars. Your hands fells to the end of your sleeves, fiddling with a frayed thread and allowing yourself to get lost in the view. Guilt zapped at his heart and he felt himself growing defensive and embarrassed.

He only wanted you to have what you deserved. You had a right to see the goddamn sky if you wanted and it made him angry you were in a position where you felt as if you had to thank him for doing so. But he didn't know how to say this. Diego couldn't see that the reason he had a hard time with being honest with anyone, including himself, was for the same reason you had a hard time trusting: His father.

"I only m-mean," he stopped to clear his throat, cringing at the heat crawling up his neck at his stutter. "I only mean I don't think I'm very worthy of thanks. Not when my dad did what he did to you."

The silence you left him in knew just what to say, as it always did. His gut sunk lower than he previously thought possible, but it had jumped the gun.

"Not true," you finally said, voice quiet yet assertive.

He looked over his shoulder to find you sitting up again, your shoulders brushing together and leaving a subtle blush in its wake.

"No, I could have helped you."

"Did you know?"

His head sinks, all the more disappointed in himself. "No. No, I didn't. But that's exactly why I'm mad at myself," he pleads. He doesn't know why he's trying so hard to convince you to hate him. The truth is, the more he gets to know you, the less he wants to leave your side. But maybe that's his answer.

His passion painted a small heat on your cheeks and a grateful twitch at the corner of your lips. "That is why I am not."

"...You're not mad at me?"

You shake your head, putting all his worries to rest, unaware his presence does the same. At that moment, it's just you two on earth. A frightening thought for you, but for the first time in your life you can remember, you liked the company you had. Just you and Diego, what felt to be quite literally on top of the world. Where the stars shine the brightest.

So many of those new feelings were swirling together in your chest like never before. Freedom from the wind and the view, the chill from the night air that sent a pleasant shiver down your spine, and the oddly addicting flurry that stirred in your stomach just ever so when Diego's eyes flicked over your lips.

A sudden and familiar crackle from Diego's belt startled you two apart from the small gap you hadn't even been aware had been closing. His eyes blew open wide as his hands jumped to his belt and you were pretty sure you caught a 'Seriously? Right now?' under his breath. You had no way to know your gut wasn't the only one sinking when he threw you an apology and pulled out that noisy little radio of his.

"We have a 10-14 at Gimbel Brothers department store. Shots fired. Repeat, shots fired. 6045 Vanderbilt."

And just like that, everything was over. He was gonna leave you again, coming back who knows when? Ypu turned your head, not wanting him to see the angry tears threatening to build in your eyes. The thought of him leaving again, now of all times left a sour taste on your tongue—you were mortified for giving placing so much faith in Diego, only for him to turn around and leave again.

"Work?" You asked, unable to stop the bitter accusation in your tone.

"Yeah. It is," he said, something you couldn't identify in his whisper. Not taking his eyes off of you and your crossed arms, he turned off the radio and returned it to its spot on his belt without a thought. "But it can wait." Your head whipped back to face him.

Diego knew he had made the right choice the moment he felt the pull grow tighter in his gut—he felt like the grass from earlier, having no choice as he was carried out to you. But he was happy. Your smile alone lit up the roof and cast away any shadow of a doubt he was meant to leave.

And Diego knew he made the right choice when that trust he placed in you was given right back to him, placed on his shoulder with your head. He warmed at the feeling of your temple laid so delicately to rest on his broadened shoulder, but he didn't dare move a muscle. As if you might break. As if you might move. So badly he wanted to tuck his chin over your temple, wrap his arm around your shoulder but this was new enough for you.

This was new enough for him. Intimacy—vulnerability—quite like this.

Instead, he settled his cheek on your head with such care—a care you had yet know. But he had already hurt you once before. And once was too many. Diego couldn't name when he decided this, but he knew as surely as the earth orbited the sun, he had always meant to know you. And you him. And whatever journey lay before you both, he could only hope the end was nowhere in sight.

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

As she sat in quiet contemplation, reflecting on recovered childhood moments long forgotten, Allison couldn't stop her mind from wandering. The mysteries her father harbored all her life continued to unravel around her and her siblings since his death. On top of it all, Pogo's increasingly suspicious behavior was like a loose thread Allison couldn't stop picking at.

He had found her in the attic—her old hiding spot—staring up at the moon as she sat tucked away in the window sill. While in retrospect, she was grateful he had found her and brought her here, she couldn't quite bring herself to shake the questionable aura surrounding him, nor the conversation she had attempted to pry from him surrounding her suspicions.

"How'd you do it?" she questions carefully. "Alone in this huge house for so long,"

Her eyes couldn't tear themselves away from the wall of buzzing monitors. Each picture of her childhood home was painted in noise from the VCR, obscuring the details of every nook and cranny on display in waves of fuzz.

Including the hall leading to the elevator shaft.

Allison is sure to take note of the twitch in his ears, though it brings her no joy to do so. Nor does the feeling that accompanies his sudden interest in the floor where he readjusts his cane one too many times. "I mean, that's bound to take a toll on anyone." she reiterates.

The lift in question was obscured—it was just around the corner. But that's not what bothered Allison.

"Well," he answers carefully, his voice hard and level as his eyes meet hers in what she has to convince herself isn't a warning look.

What bothered Allison was the sight of her father emerging from around this very corner, with a familiar old primate in tow.

"One grows used to things, even if, sometimes..." was Allison seeing things, or were his eyes narrowing? "one shouldn't."

There wasn't a word to describe what Allison was feeling. More accurately, there weren't enough. She knew something had been off the moment they had reunited with Pogo—he was just too eager. But she didn't want to believe it. He had been far more of a father figure than her own father for as long as she could remember. Perhaps that's why she had such a hard time leaning in to such accusations.

The chair's wheels squeaked beneath her as she leaned in for a closer look—something about her father in this image piqued her interest. She fiddled with the dials long enough for it to show her the rest of the tapes from this day. And for the second time, her suspicions were confirmed.

Allison had watched as he had retreated from the elevator shaft—from whatever nefarious studies he did on you in secret—and made his way down to dinner like any other night. Realization hits her hard, and she collapses into her chair, eyes never leaving the screens.

This was the evening. This was the meal.

This was the last time the family had seen Five before he disappeared.

Her finger smashed the eject button without thought. Allison didn't need to see it a second time. She found her head planted in her hands, her fingers rubbing at her temples in indignation as it all washed over her.

Of course that's where he'd gone. Of course the answer to the question Allison and her siblings had asked all these years 'where does Dad always disappear to?' was something as vile as this.

She felt stupid for not seeing it sooner, and yet that feeling in itself felt foolish. There was no way to know. More than anything her heart ached. For you, for anyone who might be looking for you. She knows she'd do anything to get Claire back if something happened to her—anything.

With a hefty sigh, Allison pulls herself back up to the wall of monitors. Maybe, she thought, though she wasn't thrilled with the idea, more answers lay in the question. Maybe she would find more clues in the tapes. She casts a glance over her shoulder at the cabinet, nearly going for a random selection as pointed out by Pogo. And yet something pulls her attention to the right.

Hanging off one of the many tape decks sat a single VHS box, just waiting for her to open. Promiscuous enough, unlike every other selection, the white label had been hastily torn off. Allison takes it in hand, inspecting the weight with burning curiosity.

Surely, whatever was on here couldn't be that interesting.

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

The sight of Luther's empty bed was nearly within his reach, seducing his exhaustion-riddled body with the temptations of rest when Allison finally caught up to him.

"There you are," she let out a breath of relief as she hurried to meet him halfway down the hall. "I've been looking everywhere for you,"

"What are you still doing here?" He frowned, genuinely surprised to see her after hours. What about Claire, he wondered. "I thought you were gone,"

She shook her head. "No, I was gonna go, and then Pogo showed me this--"

"Well, listen..." He sighed, cutting her off much to her annoyance. "I was wrong about Dad's death,"

"What?"

"Yeah, I was wrong about Diego. And Y/n. You know, you were right. I mean, not only to turn what Dad did to her into an interrogation and accuse her so brazenly but to do the same with my own brother? That is just--"

"--No, I– I know, I get what you're--"

"--Seeing all of you and being back here on top of everything... I should be the one who's trying to bring us back together, not tear us apart."

"Would you shut up?"

That got his attention. "What?"

"You were right," she admitted. Her voice was as hard as the rock in her stomach from the evidence she had unwillingly stumbled upon. "...about Dad."

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

The floors wailed with every hurried footstep the siblings took as Allison directed Luther to the surveillance room, though it took them both a solid moment to realize this made no sense considering the marble they walked on. All at once, their pace slowed and their eyes fell towards the figure sauntering up the wooden staircase behind them, an inconspicuous duffle bag slung over his shoulder. The despair in Five's features was displayed without doubt, and the physical aftermath of his little last-minute siege at Gimble Brothers was not lost on his brother and sister.

"Five," Allison came to a standstill in shock. "What the hell happened to you?"

The minimal traces of sweat and blood on the boy's brow were less worrisome to Luther than the haunted look in his steely eyes. In passing glances Luther had caught traces of that thousand-yard stare since Five's return, but nothing like this. It was just concerning enough, he couldn't bring himself to care when he picked up the sound of wandering footsteps on the first floor. All his attention was on his brother and the undeniable need to help.

"Are you okay?" He asks, lending out a gloved hand for comfort. "Can we help--?"

The boy's grip on his wrist was iron, but nothing compared to the grip on Five's heart. Despite the regret attached to the advancing deja vu at his lighting reflexes, Five's grasp tightened—his fingers dug harder and harder through the material peacoat sleeve, putting Luther further on edge. If he hadn't known better, he'd say Five was almost scared to let him go.

The truth was, the smell of rotting flesh and soiled runoff were somehow stronger than the sight waiting for him that day in the not-so-distant future. Which was saying something considering the gruesome image was burned into the back of his eyelids. Hell, he could hardly look anyone in the eye since his return. This was the first time he truly did so—his voice trembling in a manner no one who knew Five Hargreeves to be possible.

"There's nothing... you can do," that thousand-yard stare pierces Luther. It goes straight through him like he's seeing a ghost. And then, unexpectedly, it falls away. All the way down and over the balcony to a fourth figure, silently making its way into the living room on Diego's arm with a grin on her face. "There's nothing any of you can do,"

It was uncanny the resemblance you bore to the Y/n he found that day. One arm coiled around your torso as you wandered aimlessly and harmlessly through unknown terrain, searching for any signs of life. Completely unaware of his presence. How you didn't hear or see them on the second floor, Five didn't know. But it was no different from how he found you on that sordid day.

What remained of the world Five once knew were getting harder and harder to distinguish. The sky had been devoured by curtains of ash and blankets of sewage flew past his shins in makeshift streams created by the debris. His footsteps were loud and slow, treading his way through to higher ground where the spring of blood, mud, and ocean water had thinned to massive puddles.

There is where he first saw it. There is where he first saw him. A single hand rising front the mountain of rubble. Its abnormally thick peacoat-covered forearm was stained pink from the runoff, and gripped tight in its fingerless gloved hand was a small white orb. He stumbled closer without thought to get a closer look, kneeling beside the carnage to discover the unexpected.

"Don't ask me,"

The knot in his stomach coiled tighter and tighter as he took the wrist in his grasp in an attempt to pry the eye free. He inwardly cringed at the sound of the popping of stiff joints as he pried the fingers apart. Clearly whoever now possessed it had ripped it straight from the original owner's head. It was an eye—a prosthetic by the looks of it. The thin coat of blood and slime told Five it was still fresh.

"What you know is true,"

To this day, Five couldn't name what compelled him to check the body. Whatever it was, he knew even then it was something far more simple than curiosity. And everything to do with intuition. The moment he laid eyes on the blonde, a hole the size of a crater had been punched through his chest. The features weren't hard to make out, even though the bloated after-effects of the end of the world and the fifteen-something years of aging. The sharp chin and prominent brow of his brother Luther were unmistakable.

Five reluctantly brought himself to his feet on wobbling knees, fighting tooth and nail to keep the non-existent contents of his empty stomach from causing too much trouble. The fight within himself as he laid his eyes upon the scene just around the bend was even harder.

Nobody had to tell him the bodies he had found were that of siblings.

"Don't have to tell you"

Nobody had to tell him that in the blink of an eye, Five had lost everything.

Five had to really be looking to spot them under all the wreckage and trickling streams. Naturally, he saw them right away.

His sister Allison lay first at his feet; her face, not unlike Luther's, still wore traces of a frown even in such sleep. Her head was visible, barely surfacing from the mountain of rubble, just enough to identify. The water washed over her in gentle strokes, carefully washing away the rubble and ash to have been pooling in the crooks of her eyes.

Not far behind her, sprawled stomach first into the ruins of concrete was Klaus. His mouth hung open even after his dying breath, and his eyes had yet to flutter closed. They were as sad and far away as they had been in early youth—when he wasn't hiding behind a mask of some sort. Before Five could stop the thought he found his heart weeping at the thought Klaus looked more like his true self in death than he ever had in life. He just wished, now more than ever, he had been around longer to be proven wrong.

"I love your precious heart"

Diego. Five had nearly missed him. Had he not tripped over a chunk of concrete hidden in the murky water and fallen on his ass right in front of his dead brother, he would have missed him. Maybe it was this very thing—this sudden action that kicked him into gear and told him all this was real to a point where the lump in his throat finally gave. Tears sprang loose from his eyes as he took in the sight of his brother, stomach first, left arm sprawled out ahead of him as of reaching out for Five in his dying moments. As if he knew the brother to have disappeared from his life would return to him in death.

"I,"

What pathetic excuse for a bargaining thought was squandered when Five's eyes fell upon Diego's inner wrist. Any hopeful doubt seeding itself in Five's mind that these people he has stumbled upon were not his family was violently uprooted. He felt fucking foolish for even acknowledging such a thought, but here he was. Just a boy, lost and alone at the end of the world—just a boy, eyes drilling into the inked insignia of a black umbrella tattoo on Diego's inner wrist confirming his worst fears.

"I was standing"

Any attempt at pulling himself out of such an intense state of grief left him little options. Now all he could focus on was the blood staining his body and dripping into his stocking as he put all his energy into standing upright. One by one his senses returned to him—the smell threatened another lurch in his gut, the sun could be felt beating down and making him sweat, even through so many layers of ash in the sky. And slowly, and ever so surely, the white noise created by the blood storming in his ears fell away to reveal to Five a most unexpected and wonderful thing.

"HELLO?!" The voice cried. It wasn't a call that expected an answer, rather a desperate wish—a demand from the universe.

His body didn't act right away when he told it to move. But when it finally did, he ignored the water splashing up on his ankles as he stumbled around the nearest heap.

"You were there"

You were there. Pulling yourself up from a rubble mountain two stories high, blood caked over your wobbling head where dried streaks fell into your lidded eyes. One hand hung loosely around your torso where you gripped your bleeding side, the other doing all in its power to anchor you to the wall in an upright position.

"Two worlds collided"

You were on the brink of death by the looks of it—if Five had to guess, you had just pulled yourself from the depths of hell given the firey wreck behind you. There was so much fear in your e/c eyes, shining out so bright he could see it from here. Just as surely as you could sense his. But that was just it.

He could see it clicking in your brain; whatever trauma-induced fog cast over your mind was trying to lift away at the sight—the realization he too was coming upon.

Yes, the two of you had somehow found yourself at the end of the world. But no longer were either of you alone.

"And they could never tear us apart"

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

a.n: to paraphrase the amazing Billy Boyd who gave my best friend a mint at comic con, "I've been sittin' on tha' fer three~ years! Enjoy it!"

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

I REMIND YOU TO BE CAUTIOUS OF ALL RESOURCES YOU FIND REGARDING AIDING THE UKRAINE--IF YOU SUSPECT ME OR ANYONE YOU KNOW HAS OVERLOOKED SOMETHING THEY ARE SPREADING, MAKE IT KNOWN!

Documenting During Internet Shutdowns: A Full Blog Series

'Through our work with activists who have experienced internet shutdowns, we have learned some useful tips and approaches to capturing and preserving video documentation during internet shutdowns that we are sharing in this series. We wrote them with Android devices in mind, but the tips can be applied to iPhones as well. Some of the strategies require advance planning (and often, internet access), so it’s a good idea to review them and implement any steps before you are in a situation where you do not have internet and you need to document. Save a copy of any of the tutorials so you can refer to them or share them during a shutdown. And finally, start practicing the techniques and methods in your everyday work so that they become second-nature before you’re in a crisis situation.'

'17 Black-Led LGBTQ+ Services and Groups You Can Support Right Now' article by Bianca Rodriguez

The Trevor Project:

'And so do the people you care about. Here you can reach out to a counselor if you’re struggling, find answers and information, and get the tools you need to help someone else.'

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

Taglist:

@whatawonderfulusername @vicassa @ohmyitsfaith @white-wolf-buckaroo @guineverebeckilicious @a-girl-who-loves-disney @ongaku-ato-kakikomi @alpacataco   @okimreadynow @omni-idiot-fanfics @onlyroad @popacherryvisitalibrary   @disaster-magician @little-boats-on-a-lake @lonerstolovers @dumdumsun @night-yoarrbe

❥ Let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist! ❥

[aerialflight]

Fic Recs (mostly Naruto cause I read too many good fics in the fandom and now I'm in hell)

[Naruto]

Spirit-Touched by phooykazooi

Once upon a time, the Haruno clan were priests. It was said that they were spirit-touched, and that they walked among the downtrodden and the poor, and did not bow to royalty.

Or, an AU in which Sakura can see spirits.

Part 1 of The Realms Between

(Really, and I mean REALLY fantastic Shikamaru & Sakura friendship! Fantastic, beautiful writing, and such good worldbuilding, god, and the Haruno family is so badass!! Sakura and everything she does makes me want to scream!! Please read!)

Final Evaluation by Do_the_Cool_Whip

Progress evaluations are one-on-one consultation meetings between academy students and their teacher. Their purpose is to inform academy students of their strengths and weaknesses and guide them down their ideal path to becoming a strong shinobi. Upon graduating the academy and passing their jounin-sensei test, new genin return to the academy for one final consultation. (Or: The story of what happens when Umino Iruka uses his final meetings with his students as way to send them off to become the best shinobi they can possibly be.)

(Iruka! Is! The! Best! Teacher! Ever! End of story!!! Great interpretation of all the characters and their capabilities and I am so so excited for the sequel that will undoubtedly come! XD)

Celestial Bodies by Oceanbreeze7

Sasuke looked at the fire, eyes glowing red as the mutated corrupted seal on his throat. "Amaterasu blessed me. I see things. Like you with two normal eyes and the Hokage. And Sakura with a seal on her forehead. And I run Chidori through Naruto's heart. I keep trying to kill him. Over and over. And that knuckleheaded idiot never gives up.”

(Don't you get it? I saw it. The moon will bleed, the nations will die. The world is going to end.)

Part 1 of Celestial Bodies and Anomalies

(I swear, this fic freaking elevated my expectations on Sasuke-centric fics in general holy hell. Also, read the fucking sequel after this cause EVERYTHING GOES NUTS AND THE PLOT GOES OFF AND I'M HERE FOR THIS SHIT. Fucking Uchihas man. Also, you wouldn't think this series is funny, but it is, and it's amazing.)

A step to the left (and right off the cliff) by weavingBlue

Team Seven starts off on a different foot and Sasuke's canonical journey to get stronger goes off the rails a bit. It all works out though. Probably.

(This fic went in a direction I didn't expect and it's GLORIOUS. SO FUNNY, I honestly was dying while I was reading this. Please give this a chance!!)

promises by BombsAreForBabies

It's her first kiss and Naruto's last. She promises him that she will bring Sasuke home. It's his dying wish, after all.

(Naruto bleeds out faster than the kyuubi can heal him.

Sakura learns that being a ninja is more than fancy jutsu and fun.

Sasuke does not know that he just killed his best friend and turned his most loyal comrade into his worst enemy.)

(Listen LISTEN I know this sounds depressing but the relationship developments and slow healing is EVERYTHING and I think it's absolutely worth it to read this. Sakura's characterization is so good and Kakashi makes me want to hug him. A lot.)

Fang Under Fang by Vroomian

"Are we sure he's really an Inuzuka?"

(The answer is no.)

-

Someone reborn as Inuzuka Kiba not only has to deal with bullshit ninja magic, but soulmates being A Thing.

(Really good self-insert fic and its platonic soulmates, not romantic! I am always here for a good Kiba-centric fic and I won't say who the soulmate is. It's unexpected but so, so good! Trust me!)

Haunt The Lonely by Tht0neGal666

(Series where Sakura can see ghosts and the Things she gets up to due to this ability. The fics are short but man, you can already see the shifting differences in Team 7's dynamics, it's great!)

Perception by Ellie_Enchanted

Naruto can sense auras, which throws everything off it's balance. Because really, with someone as open as Naruto running around and peering into the depths of people's souls, something is bound to change. In other words, sometimes all that's needed is a push. Also, Sasuke apparently glows.

(Naruto the empath changing the plot and making it Better and I am loving it!)

Crossfire by DejaVu22

Following the events of Naruto, Uchiha Sasuke never makes it to Orochimaru's hideout. Instead, he is waylaid by a one-eyed man named Tobi, a man possessing a Sharingan, a terrifying dual personality, a penchant for always being late, and a single-minded mission to stop the Akatsuki in their tracks. When Sasuke runs into Naruto again years later, he must ally with his old teammate in order to protect him from the Akatsuki, while keeping him out of the two man war Tobi and Sasuke have started against the dangerous organization.

(I honest to god can't stop cackling when I read this, the Sasuke & Obito dynamic is so freaking chaotic and Sasuke's characterization is the best thing I've ever read. This boi is a mEsS and I'm fucking rooting for him. He cares so much! There's secret identity shenanigans happening on sasuke's end and it's HILARIOUS! This is the duo I never thought I needed but here it is! *cackles insanely*)

-

[Diamond no Ace]

Echo in His Hands by SportRayne (rayningnight)

Ship: Miyuki/Sawamura

What does it mean, when you remember snapshots of your own future?

Is it your future at all, if you change it?

Would you even want to change it?

(Look I am WEAK for BAMF Eijun and time travel fics and Miyuki being a tanuki bastard, okay? Time travel fic where Eijun gets feelings of people he knew before in the future. Really good so far and am so excited over this fic!)

The path we walk by WindsOfTime

Ship: Miyuki/Sawamura

Eijun goggles at the magazine she just shoved into his hands. "W-Wakana!" "I know!" she says, beaming. "That's my soulmate!!" "I know!!" "My soulmate plays baseball!!"

(Became such an instant fave so fast it's unbelievable. I LOVE THESE IDIOTS SO MUCH! Best soulmate fic in this fandom, hands down!)

-

[One Piece]

switching places by fireflywitch

Zoro is 21 and wakes up in a desert they already saved, on a ship that they burned two years ago, and standing next to a man who is supposed to be dead. Except, that can’t be right, can it?

Zoro is 19 and wakes up on a ship that’s too big, next to a robot wearing a swimsuit, and he’s supposed to fight something called a Kaido. Also, he’s missing an eye, and no one’s even a little worried about it?

(or)

Time travel is a shitshow, and Zoro didn't sign up for this.

(FUCKING HILARIOUS ZORO IS THE BEST PERSON TO SEND BACK IN TIME CAUSE HE'D BE TERRIBLE YET FANTASTIC AT IT I CAN'T MAN FIEWNOPFEW)

No Time To Crank The Sun by VIKAN

He’s surrounded by strangers, but they’re all trying to convince him otherwise. Or, Zoro faces a mysterious and relentless challenge that he just can’t wrap his head around.

(This ripped my heart open, I cried reading this my god. Please read this, the pain is so worth it and Zoro and his relationship with his crew is so good here. This reminded me why I love the Straw Hats so much!)

-

[Fairy Tail]

to learn about a lucy (with a look into the future.) by るる凪 - nagi (arurun)

A watching the future fanfic.

It's currently X781, three years before canon. A group of Fairy Tail mages find themselves in a large building, with no known way out.

They sit down, and they watch the future.

(This is so much more fun than I thought it would be and I'm so happy I found this fic. This fic reignited my old love for this fandom and I hope it does for you too!)

-

[Harry Potter]

sunflowers by Marnie27

One day, a young girl sits on the edge of a well. On this day, she falls in. Then the next, she’s not even a ‘she’ anymore. He’s Peter Pettigrew — doomed to die at the hands of his (betrayed) friend’s son.

Peter is selfish, bitter and brash. He’s not some fairy tale hero, he doesn’t care if everyone around him dies, as long as he lives. The marauders are annoying and childish. Survival is his priority, and he can’t afford to face distractions.

This just makes the fact that soulmates are now apparently a thing all the more godawful.

(And then another day years later he falls into an entirely new impossibility, Remus Lupin in tow, right into the third book of Harry Potter. Smack bang on the other Peter Pettigrew’s grave).

It’s confusing and graceless, and entirely something that would happen to him of all people.

(Self-insert fic where a girl reincarnates into Peter Pettigrew! And there are soulmates! And it's angsty and hilarious and Peter is an Asshole (somewhat unintentionally lol). Always a fan of biased pov fics and characters slowly improving themselves and their mental health! Cause dying! Is! Traumatic! *smiley face* Please read!)

-

[Crossovers]

he's a killer queen, sunflower, guillotine by hoye

Fandoms: Fullmetal Alchemist, Harry Potter

He has to be the weirdest Hufflepuff Harry’s ever seen. Scratch that, he’s the weirdest Hufflepuff Hogwarts has ever seen.

(One thing everyone could agree on: NEVER call Edward Elric short.)

(This is peak Edward Elric and all the best things about him and I'm just having a Good Time. Friendships! Logical solutions! Marauder screentime! And so much More! *bright grin* It's a fun place here!)

[the-silentium]

Murphy day Pt. 4

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 -  Epilogue

Pairing: Bad Batch x Reader

Words: 3480 words.

Warnings: Medical stuff without much detail. 

A/N: YAY last chapter of this series! This was a lot of fun! Hope you guys stay tuned for more Bad Batch fics! Don’t forget to leave comments, always much appreciated!

Fors is an Original planet. I do not give permission to people to use it for their own fics, the planet, the animals, the Nightmares, the lore or anything related to Fors. Thank you.

At first, you felt numb. It felt like your mind was wandering around, completely separated from your body. Where you should be feeling your hands and feet, there was only nothingness, a way too cold nothingness. 

Then the soreness poked at the corner of your brain, slowly assaulting your nerves, crawling up your body until all you could feel was a mass of terribly aching limbs. A constant discomfort deep within your throat prompted you to cough it out to relieve yourself of the nagging feeling, the weak attempts miserably failing to alleviate the sensation of something invading your throat. 

As you tried to raise a hand to rub at your neck, you realized that something was keeping it down. Something warm. And tight. 

Like Tech's hand when he was pulling you away from the predator on your tail. Or when he was dangling in the air on the verge of death, the only thing keeping him from disappearing into the abyss being your fingers clutching his hand. 

Fear flooded your system, fighting the exhaustion paralyzing your limbs. Your hand closed around the warm soft object in your grip, your hold tightening despite the pain radiating from your fingers. You couldn't let go. He would die. Your friend would die. 

You didn't hear the yelp over the frenetic heartbeat booming in your ears, your closed eyes projecting you directly to that day when the dark sky offered the perfect camouflage to the draconic reptile. He was concealed in the dark, waiting for you to drop your guard. No. He was waiting for you to drop Tech so he could feast on his flesh. 

Your eyes flew open in terror as the hand in yours slipped slightly, your fist crushing it with all your might to keep it secure. 

The unexpected brightness brings tears to your eyes, the first droplets falling down your cheeks before a familiar figure invaded your personal space, his other hand flying to your shoulder in a comforting grip. 

His lips were moving, trying to tell you something that you couldn't hear over the hammering of your heart or your quick breathing or the hectic beeping sound on your left. 

Lifting your head a little, pain exploded behind your eyes, forcing your head back down immediately. Your eyes moved to your hand, still imprisoning another's in its vice grip. The sight made you relax slightly. You'd not dropped him. 

Before your attention could return to the person hovering above you, his hand on your shoulder retreated as someone else took his place from your other side, a total stranger that looked oddly familiar in some way. He moved quickly around you, talking to you while putting something terribly cold onto your chest multiple times before removing something taped to your face and removing the thing down your throat. 

You coughed as you felt the thing move out, more tears leaking down your face at the effort. 

"You're okay Y/N." You finally heard, your mind concentrating on what was around instead of yourself. "You're okay." He repeated in case you still didn't hear him, his other hand returning to your shoulder. 

His dark locks seemed even wilder than they were in the jungle, although they weren't slick with sweat and rain anymore. His armor was off, leaving him in a black skin fitted suit that allowed you to appreciate just perfectly fit he was beneath all that composite. His tattoo was still intriguing, but his eyes reminded you too much of someone else to let yourself wander about how soft the ink would feel beneath your fingertips. 

"T-" You coughed at the roughness of your throat, increasing the pulsing feeling into your skull. 

"Don't talk yet." Hunter chided, getting closer as the other man moved around, checking machines and bags disposed all around you. Where was water when you needed it?

"Tech's fine. All he got was a bruised hand." His gaze moved to your joined hands on the bed. "No wonder. You've got a hell of a grip." 

Your eyes widen in realization that you were still clutching him in a terribly tight grasp, pain erupting from your white fingers as soon as you relaxed the tension. 

He shook his hand once before massaging his digits to resume the blood flow. He turned to you, all traces of pain washed off his face, relief, and exhaustion taking its place. 

"You scared us all to death, you know that?" 

You frowned, unsure as to why. 

"Tech said that the fall should have been fatal." It clicked in your head, your fall replaying back in your head, the air hitting you full force, your stomach on the verge of your lips, the screams resonating in your ears. 

"Somehow, you survived the fall and we took you to the closest GAR medical outpost." 

You frowned, looking around to the room but were interrupted by a light flashing directly into your eyes. You blinked, surprised but tried to maintain them open for the apparent exam. 

"Follow the light." The doctor softly instructed, obliging as he moved the light from right to left. He nodded in approval. "Does it hurt somewhere?"

You nodded slowly, a finger pointing at your head the best you could with your stiff joints. 

"Your head?" You nodded in confirmation. 

"Your pilot will be monitored closely for a while. As of now, her vitals are good and I'll give her something for the pain." He addressed Hunter, the latter nodding in understanding. Your head tilted to the side, your eyebrows dipped in a frown. Pilot? "Keep her rested, no moving around like the other one." He finished on a disapproving tone and pointed look, pressed some buttons on a machine right beside you, and left the room when Hunter promised to keep you in bed. 

"We had to pass you as our pilot so you could be treated here, so play the game." He whispered when the doctor exited the room and turned to meet your confused face.

Your eyes widened, quickly shaking your head because you don't know shit about ships! What if someone asked you about stuff GAR related? Hissing, you abruptly stopped, your head spinning and hurting. 

"Stop that. You may have survived but you had a severe concussion, some internal injuries, broke an arm, a few ribs, and have lots and lots of bruises." His eyes roamed your face, analyzing the different colors painting your skin, although you couldn't care less because your eyes caught the cast enveloping your right arm. 

You were fucked. You'd never be able to go home and act like you didn't go out on Murphy day. You'll get punished, your life will become more miserable, people will avoid you even more than they already did. Maybe they'll quick you out of the village! 

Your face must have shown your panic or maybe it was the fact that the beeping sound accelerated along with your heartbeat, but Hunter got closer, his hand reaching for your shoulder once more. 

"What's wrong?" 

"T-" You coughed before clearing your throat. Your mouth felt like it was full of sand, but you had to get it out. "They'll know-" You winced. "-I was out." 

"Well. I'm sure they know by now." He looked sheepish, scratching the back of his head like that, almost uncomfortable to tell you some precious information. "You've been out for a bit less than a month." 

"A month?!" You choked, eyes widening in shock. This couldn't be possible. He must have hit his head too.

"You're awake!" The door to your room opened swiftly, letting inside the rest of the batch, all without armor. Tech hurried to your side first, taking your bruised hand in his and staring at you like he couldn't believe it. 

"I am." You answered in a daze, still distracted by the fact that you missed a month. 

"You should be dead." He whispered in awe. 

"Jeez, thanks for the vote of confidence." You coughed as Hunter called his brother, horrified. 

"No, I mean… I'm happy that you're alive! All I'm saying is that you had a 50% chance to die from a 48 feet high fall. But headfirst?! Your chances were close to none!"

You gulped. "Cool?" 

"He should be thanking you instead of telling you all that." Hunter pointed out, a hard look on his face directly focussed on his little brother. 

"Thanks," Said brother whispered, his free hand scratching his neck in shame. "for saving my life. Twice." 

"No thanks needed. You'd have done the same." You moved your hand so you could give him a comforting squeeze. 

"Sarge told you you'd survive the day Y/N!" Wrecker approached from Hunter's side, happiness lacing his voice. 

"And I told you guys would give me your bad lu-" Your smile disappeared as soon as you took in the bandages covering his naked chest. Some patches of exposed skin were tainted from a sick yellow to some dark green, worrying you to no end. 

"What happened to you?" You croaked, coughing when your voice raised in pitch. 

"There." You heard Crosshair’s low voice before a cup appeared in front of you. 

"I don't think she shoul-" 

"I want it!" You hurried out of breath, cutting Tech before anyone could think about following his instructions. 

Taking the cup from Crosshair's hand, Hunter approached it to your hand not attached to a cast. 

"Good to do it yourself?" 

"I'll try." You shrugged, fighting past the exhaustion in your bone to lift your hand to the white carton cup, only for it to burn up all your energy. "Shit."

The good point was that whatever the doctor gave you was working perfectly, the throbbing in your head was gone and the pulsing in your hand as well. 

"Here." The cup reached your lips and very slowly, Hunter tilted it to appease your thirst without drowning you in the process. You would have been mortified at the idea of being helped like this, but in this very precise situation, all you could think of was drink. 

Lie. This is not sweet! Bacterias! You almost spit it out by reflex but remembered at the last second that they surely wouldn't give you undrinkable water. It was difficult, but you forced yourself to swallow. 

Once satisfied, you lifted your head to signal to Hunter to back off. You hummed your thanks, smiling gratefully and totally ignoring the smirk Crosshair send his tattooed brother, focussing your attention on Wrecker instead. 

"What happened?" You repeated yourself. 

"The giant snake hit me with its tail." He shrugged like it was nothing. "I'm fine, don't worry. I've survived worse!" 

You stared him up and down, wondering how in the universe he could have survived that. Its tail was rock hard to allow it to move underground. There was no way- 

"What could be worse than a Basilisk wanting you for dinner?!" 

"That'll be a story for another time." A woman said from the door. "Now that you are awake we need to run some more exams." She smiled warmly at you, and you immediately knew that you liked her. "You can all come back later."

"Aw already?" You chuckled slightly at Wrecker's disappointment. 

"Unfortunately. But I promise to take good care of her for you all." She replied, entering the room to get to the machines at your side. 

"We'll be back." Hunter promised before bending to your ear, whispering cheekily, "You're a hell of a catch. Never think otherwise." Leaving you agape to follow the others out without a glance back. He didn't need to, the heart monitor told him all he needed to know. You were mortified. He had heard you by the river.

Crosshair saluted you in the doorway, Tech patted your hand, Wrecker waved and Hunter smirked before closing the door. 

"I've never seen them so worried about someone else other than the four of them. It's nice to see them opening to someone else." She smiled, noting information on her datapad. 

If only you knew… I know them for only 2 hours top.

________________________

You gulped down the last bit of your small breakfast, the tasteless bread leaving a soggy feeling in your mouth. 

You'd slept like a baby after Mylana finished to examine your cast, reflexes, and more. Your strength returned during the night, allowing you to lift your cast-free left arm to feed yourself. 

Patch, the clone doctor assigned to your case passed to assess your improvement and informed you that he'd remove the nasogastric tube so you could eat by yourself. Removing the thing was nasty, definitely something you didn't want to live again but it was worth it. Or so you thought. Because the food here was depressing compared to Fors’ vast variety of fresh fruits, meat, and vegetables. 

It was only when Patch presented himself that you realized how different the Bad Batch was from the rest of the clones. He was the very first 'normal' clone you encountered. It pushed you to think about how the batchers must have had it hard, to live in a world where everything must be identical and you're not. They had no chance to conceal it, to be themselves like all the others because they were physically different. They had no chance to try and save themselves. It was infuriating and unfair. 

"How's breakfast?" Tech asked from the door, moving uncomfortably from a foot to the other. 

"Not what I'm used to but it’s edible." You shrugged, waving him in. "Don't be a stranger, I'm your pilot after all."

Tech chuckled at that, closed the door to sit at the foot of the bed. For a while he sat there, watching his fingers, sometimes pressing them together but never facing you. 

"You don't have to apologize for anything Tech. I don't know what's bugging you, but it's fine. I'm alive." You told him honestly, surprising him. 

"I-What I said yesterday was inappropriate and I'm very sorry. It's just- I watched the recording times and times again and- Why did you let go of my hand?" He finally met your eyes offering you disbelief, confusion, sadness, and betrayal on a golden plate.

"I told you there was nothing to apologize for. I let go of your hand because I didn't want to drag you down with me." You lifted your hand when he opened his mouth to interrupt you, effectively shutting him up. "I'd do it again. Don't beat yourself over it, because it's not your fault Tech." You ended firmly, no trace of your previous amusement on your face. 

He analyzed your face for a second before averting his eyes. 

"How's your hand?" You asked, eager to fill the silence. 

"Still bruised." The corner of his lips lifted slightly as he showed you his colorful hand. "I couldn't close it at first, but it passed." He chuckled. "Oh, and I had to wash my armor at least 3 times to get rid of the phosphorescence." 

You laughed full-on before pain shot through your chest at the movement. 

"Don't make me laugh!" 

"Slept well then." Hunter entered followed by Crosshair and Wrecker with a black shirt on this time. 

"Best night of sleep I had in a while Sarge." You beamed. It was true, the life in the village was hard enough. Not because of your work, but because the incessant persecution was heavy to bear. 

"Good to hear. We came back after the exam but you were asleep." He positioned himself at the foot of the bed, letting Wrecker all the place to sit in the chair at your side. 

"Thanks for letting me sleep then!" 

"Even if we wanted to wake you, Patch would've had our asses before we even opened the door!" Wrecker laughed, stopping his poking of the fluid bag hanging near his shoulder to smile at you. 

"He just wants me to be discharged sooner than later." You batted his hand away as he resumed his movement. 

"Speaking of discharge, we'll take you back to Fors as soon as you're cleared." The playful smile fell of your face in a heartbeat. 

"Oh. Ok. Thanks." 

"What's the matter?" Crosshair approached at Hunter's question, clearly wanting to know the answer. 

"Nothing. Can't wait to go back." You faked a smile that didn’t reach your eyes, not fooling a single clone in the room.

"What is it?" The sniper inquired, surprising you that he'd care about your feelings and well, you. 

"It's just… I'm done. People know that I went out on Murphy day and they certainly think me dead right now." You explained.

"Well, they'll be happy to see that you're not." Tech tilted his head, not understanding where the problem was. 

"No one misses the village's freak. Ever. They won't throw a celebration because I'm alive, they'll kick me out for breaking the law, and because I'll attract them bad luck." 

Silence fell over the room and suddenly you felt an urge to pull on the needles in your arms and hand and run out the door to avoid the conversation and all the shame accompanying it. 

"You're not a freak." You scoffed at Wrecker, all the insults thrown at you during your life echoing in your head like a curse. 

"Wanting more than just living the life that was imposed on me at birth doesn't fit under the norms on Fors. A female having weapons is not acceptable, even less a female hunting. Working a physical job instead of stayin' at home is not exemplary. Plus, I'm still single! I told off the guy who asked for my hand after my dad died and went as far as menacing him with a knife. After that, I was pretty much a goner." You recalled painfully, hands clenching around the sheets, eyes closing in shame.

"I'm always being stared at like a freak show, pushed around by my supposed peers, thrown in the mud when possible, or let behind in a storm. Oh let's not forget that I went out on Murphy day. Now, that's the dumbest shit I've ever done but damn did it felt good to break their stupid law! I'm sure I'll be exiled at best or executed at worse." 

You finally took a deep breath in, canalizing your frustration to not take it out on the medical equipment helping you get better. The silence was heavier than before and you thought that maybe the drip Patch showed you for the episodes of pain could help you relieve some of the pressure crushing you. 

"Your planet is hell." Was all Crosshair had to say for you to smile again. 

"It is." You confirmed, eyes still closed. 

"We need a pilot." That got you to open your eyes, confused at Hunter. 

"So? I'm not a pilot. My planet doesn't even have datapads." 

"We'll train you." Tech and Wrecker were as surprised as you were, although your big friend was the most enthusiast out of the group. 

"Really Sarge?" He asked, hopeful. 

"Wo there, calm down. We've known each other for 2 hours!" You reasoned in disbelief. He couldn't possibly offer you a job, an escape route out of your misery, after walking alongside you for 2 hours more or less. "You don't know me!" 

"On the contrary, I've learned plenty in 2 hours." He countered, his serious eyes telling you that he passed his time analyzing your actions, your motives, who you were. 

It was really tempting, but you couldn't help to feel that this was rushed. It was, right?

"Freaks help each other." Crosshair added putting a stop to your doubt. They were the same as you. 

"I told you already Cross." You smirked at him. "You're not defects. Simply the improved versions of your species." You nudged his arm pressed at the foot of the bed that he was leaning on next to Hunter with your sheet covered toes. 

"You seen Patch?" He lifted an eyebrow at you, not believing that after seeing the real deal you still talked highly of them. 

"I did. Really handsome." You paused, to bit your bottom lip. "But that just means that you guys are even more handsome." He scoffed and you laughed, happy to get a smirk out of him. 

"So, wanna become a pilot?" Hunter reiterated, waiting. He seemed so patient, unbothered, but you could see it beneath the surface. He was anxious to know the answer. 

"On one condition." Held your chin high, ignoring how Wrecker's face split into a wide grin and how Tech straightened at your side. 

"Name it."

"I wanna touch that tattoo of yours." You smirked. 

Wrecker exploded in laughter, Tech blinked in incredulity until it dawned on him and his cheeks became pink from the blood rush and Crosshair simply rolled his eyes, pushing himself off the bed. 

"Deal." He smirked in turn, not once moving his eyes from your lips. 

Finally.

[ssa-sugar-tits]

Ten Years (ch. 3)

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 4

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Content warnings: hospital, cursing, angst

a/n: i feel like this chapter's a little long, sorry!

Despite the multiple half-assed orders from Hotch and Rossi, the sincere begging from JJ and Penelope, and the concerned pushes from Emily and Derek, you refuse to leave the hospital until Spencer wakes up. You can't bring yourself to eat or sleep or even stop to breathe knowing something's so terribly wrong with him. For fuck's sake, all he did was hit his head. There is no plausible reason you can think of that he wouldn't have woken up yet. Drenched in your own exhausted tears and practically shaking with worry, there's a harrowing pit in your stomach. You've been waiting 42 hours and counting with no sign of improvement. He has a mild concussion and will need a few stitches where he bled but he "should be fine." They told you over and over again. And Hotch was forced to step in when you had enough of the empty bullshit in the atmosphere.

"If he's fine, why the hell hasn't he woken up? A mild concussion doesn't fucking do this to someone!" It's simple. The doctors don't know. They don't know how to help your husband. All they can do is spew false reassuring lies at you while they do absolutely nothing. More lengthy hours pass and an MRI is ordered. The same unsurprising thing: nothing's wrong with him. But what are they going to do? Send him away unconscious? No, they're just going to stand around pretending they know what they're fucking doing. You jump at the feeling of a cold hand tapping on your shoulder.

"Hey, it's just me." You look up to see Derek with a dreadfully morbid look on his face, one with tones of anger. "Mind if I sit with you?" Nowhere near able to speak, you try to give him an inviting smile but all you do is lift the corner of your quivering lips slightly. He gets the hint, which he probably would have missed had he not known you so well, and sits down beside you. Staring over at your husband, you hear Derek's head thump against the wall. The feelings you both have are of utter uselessness. Sure, there have been worse situations but... there's nothing either of you can do at all. There's no reasoning here. Well, to your knowledge. Spencer is the only one that knows what's going on. And it's ripping him apart. To not know what happened to his beloved mentor or remember any of the precious moments he's had with Y/N. He hasn't been able to watch the team he remains loyal to change and grow. He just woke up one day and was hurled into this shitty situation. He laughs out of despair at his own shortcomings and lack of comprehending what's been done to him. Y/N and Derek's heads both snap up at the unexpected sound, hopeful and desperate for a sign that Spencer's back. No such luck at first but Derek goes to get the nurse while you navigate your way to your husband's side.

"Love, it's me. I don't know if you can hear me. But whatever this is, whatever's stressed you out so much that you're... literally blocking out the entire fucking world... it'll be okay. I love you Spencer and I promise I always will. Please be okay for me." A disappointed sigh leaves you. Honestly, what did you expect? For him to wake up because you said you love him? This isn't a fucking fairytale Y/N. Derek returns with a nurse who confirms it must have been an unconscious movement so no hope there. Propping your head up with your arm, you try to get some rest for the first time since you arrived. After two more sickening hours pass, you're shaken awake by a nurse.

"Yeah?" you yawn before remembering where you are. Blinking rapidly, you open your eyes fully and look up at the nurse.

"Miss, your husband is awake." He directs a smile at you before exiting the room, leaving you to rush over to Spencer who's already sitting up and muttering to himself.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" Tears threaten to fill your eyes when you place a hand on his shoulder and he turns away from your touch.

"I'm fine, th-thank you. Excuse me, doctor?" He waves over the doctor and asks her, "Can I leave now?" She looks a bit startled as if she didn't expect him to want to leave.

"Mr. Reid--"

"Doctor," you correct.

"Ahem, Doctor Reid, our tests have come back fine and healthy but to be frank... We aren't entirely sure why you were unconscious for so long. If you'd like to stay and rest, we'd welcome-- no we strongly suggest that's what you do." You open your mouth to say something but Spencer answers her.

"If I can go then I'd like to now, thanks." It's difficult to process when he's discharged and barely even greets his team that was worried sick. Asking you silently with their sweet glances if he's okay, you can't respond. All you manage to do is bite your lip and shrug before driving him home. Spencer doesn't say a word and the silence is deafening. Incomprehensible even because since when is he this fucking quiet?

"Spence?" You say, not taking your eyes off the road. "Don't you think we should talk about it?"

"Talk about what?"

"What do you fucking think? So much for genius." An exasperated sigh escapes you before you realize you're being harsh. "I'm sorry I don't mean to snap at you. I was just..."

"Stressed?" He offers, sounding awfully sad.

"Yeah. Stressed," you sigh once more. Your worry slips away for a moment and he presses a kiss to your cheek. His lips brush against your face and you swear he lingers as if wanting to say something but he goes back to staring out the window. Once in the apartment, you expect him to want to rest or at least, spend time with his wife who's been going fucking insane the past couple of days but he locks himself in his office. Giving up, you walk to the bedroom and leave him be.

Spencer speedily walks around the room collecting books, paper, a pen, and even a laptop. It's time to figure out what's going on. First, he reads about the BAU. He learns a lot about Emily Prentiss and how Elle and Gideon left the bureau. Another piece of information he finds is that David Rossi has been apart of the team for 8 years. Hotch's wife is dead and Jack-- the baby he met once briefly is now 10 years old, living alone with Hotch. Going through photo albums and keepsakes he discovers, he finds that his relationships really have grown over the years and so have yours. Who would've thought that the emotionless, serious Aaron Hotcher would walk his wife down the aisle? Agent Prentiss, he saw, was your maid of honor and Morgan was his best man. A small child held JJ's hand and with context, he came to the conclusion that she had a child now. And his eyes land on you. He traces a hand over the photo, cherishing a memory he doesn't have. You look perfect in that wedding dress. The viel falls on your head gracefully. Your smile radiates off the page and he can't help not feeling a sense of loss. You two are happy together and he doesn't remember a second of it. Ironic, isn't it? He thinks. Moving on to the why this is happening, he reads heaps of material for hours straight, faster than someone else would be able to, but still feels like he's getting nowhere. All he has to go off of is the date and theories he's found on forums and in old books. Suddenly its too much and he throws a book across the room, wincing at the sharp thud when it hits the wall. Spencer buries his frustrated face in his hands and lets out a long, deep breath. Y/N. Guilt washes over him as he realizes, this isn't any easier for you. You've spent the past 10 years forming a relationship with your Spencer and you woke up to a distant stranger. If he's going to figure this out, he needs to adjust. Adjust to being with you, the team, this new life of his. Just until he figures things out, right? Settling on going to lay with you-- his wife, he reminds himself-- he hears what sounds like muffled sobs. He opens the bathroom door cautiously and his heart drops to his feet at the sight in front of him. You're sitting in the bathtub, half-dressed crying quietly into your knees and running your hands through your hair. Spencer kneels down beside you and wraps him arms around you tightly. You gasp softly and almost pull away but accept the embrace.

"I'm so sorry," he says sincerely against your hair. Your words come out strung together and your tongue twists while you try to explain how you've been feeling this week.

"N-No I just... I'm just worried about you Spence I'm s-so," you bite down on your quivering lip harshly to avoid choking on a sob and continue. "Everything's different a-and it's like it changed overnight. I don't know what the hell I did to fuck things up. Whatever I did, I'm so sorry." You bury your head deeper into your knees, smearing mascara into streamed lines down your cheeks. The guilt he feels smashes his heart into pieces and throws it to his feet. He said he has to adjust, didn't he? He'll start with you. Spencer already loved you, the only different thing now is that you love him too. His voice softens and he whispers into your ear, stroking your hair and intertwining his fingers with locks of it.

"You've done nothing wrong sweetheart," he assures you, surprising himself with a nickname. "I'll call Hotch and we'll take tomorrow off, just the two of us. We'll go on a date like we used to a-and we can do whatever you'd like. Anything, Y/N just let me take care of you. The way you deserve."

When he's finished, your eyes meet his and you hesitate before nodding. No words leave your mouth but it's as if you don't need them to speak. He helps you up and you make your way to the bed you share.

Falling asleep quickly, you melt into dreams of spending time together and starting to get back to normal. Spencer, on the other hand, is overcome with an intimidating shit load of anxiety. This isn't, in a million years, how he thought his first fucking date with Y/N Y/L/N would be. Then again, this type of... situation never even crossed his wildest dreams. Make the best of it, right? Yeah that's it. He'll do his best.

For you.

[docholligay]

What's your opinion on the Ow 2 redesigns, Tracer and Mercy in particular?

OH LORD HERE WE GO

So I salute their right to redesign the characters for the Second Coming, and its not particularly unexpected because, I mean, they want to build conversation and hype, and that's a way to build conversation and hype, I suppose.

So I DID see it coming, and I know me well enough to know that when I am terribly fond of something, I don't necessarily ENJOY the idea of change, so I've been sitting with this for a long while to get USED to it before I decide if the hate is legit or just me being a little pissbaby.

ANYWAY HERE'S THE CONCLUSIONS I'VE COME TO

In generalities, I don't even think most of the redesigns are BAD, I just think that they make everyone look a little more samey-same, less exaggerated, and more grounded. On THEORETICAL PAPER, I don't have a lot of trouble with it because it makes them look more like a cohesive team (Which is essentially the point of the fic I'm working on) but I do miss a bit of the uniqueness of the characters in the redesign and they all feel like they've been flattened a little bit. Everyone is a bit more POLISHED, but a bit less FUN. This works for me for characters like Pharah, who, because of how I see her, I could see picking something more streamlined, more together, more PROFESSIONAL, but for like, Human Representation of a Vegas Slot Machine Floor, Lena Oxton, it doesn't make as much sense.

Now on a personal level, let's get into it. I'll start with Pharah:

They darkened her skin a shade and removed her little gold bead hairthing, both of which I not only have no trouble with but out and out like. I have never cared for her silly little hairthings, and now I am at liberty to ignore them entirely, picking and choosing from canons at my pleasure. I'd have to see a better picture too, but I think her hair is longer, which I don't love, but we all know if it were up to me Pharah would have a haircut like this:

You know, sexy but also very officious, so perhaps we can't go by me.

As far as her uniform, the changes are fairly minimal

It’s basically just streamlining. The changes they made to Pharah were really minimal, which is good because I liked her the way she was, mostly, and they took away one of the things I didn’t care for, but also bad because making few changes to her seems to suggest to me that her involvement in the lore of the game will once again be minimized. But then again, who knows what they would do to her, perhaps it’s for the best. 

Winston, my poor bab, why do they treat you like this constantly? He gets hardly any change except they make his face less expressive??? Maybe in the game itself it won’t be so jarring. 

Mercy!

WHAT THE FUCK IS WITH THIS GODDAMN HAIRCUT, I HATE IT SO FUCKING MUCH

a reminder of her full hair style before the redesign

She looks like a fucking soccer mom who’s complaining about Bath and Body works being sold out of individual hand sanitizers for their big sale of the year, and now how is she supposed to make gift baskets for Teacher Appreciation Week with the PTA? IT BEING UGLY ASIDE, the woman is a combat medic!! Why in god’s name would she have hair that she can’t pull back in any way, shape or form? Where does she find the time to keep something like that trimmed up?? Also, out of all the shit you changed, you couldn’t let her have a wrinkle or something? Give a bitch a break. 

As far as her actual uniform, I highly approve of putting her status as medic on her sleeve, well done, and I think the way in which they tried to make the halo thing “work” as an actual item that a human being might have a reason to wear is not totally ungraceful considering how patently ridiculous it is. 

AND NOW, MY GIRL

I went to the website and just gripped my chest. My heart! How I love her! 

So i actually really approve of how they changed her face:

They removed some ot the rim from her goggles to allow her to have more expressiveness, and actually removed most of her eyeliner! PRAISE AND FUCKING BLESS, I am forever begging for scraps at the “please let Tracer be more butch, as a treat!” table, and every once in a great while, i get it. I DO wish they had brought back her freckles, but somewhere along the second year I think it was, they dropped her little angel kisses and every time I commission anything of her I have to be lIke, “And could you please give her freckles? :)” 

A better view!! I’m love her!!

HER JACKET

HER JACKET

I HATE HER FUCKING JACKET

ALright I get that this one is actually integrated better with her CA, and that’s fine and fair, but my god it is so colorless and drab and sad???? I loved the way her old jacket paid tribute to her RAF career, and it was such a THING of hers that I feel like I have to go back and remind blizz they actually sold her fucking jacket AND her hoodie was based off it, so why are we removing it now?? This thing is dishwater-dull, some sad excuse for a moto-style jacket that just doesn’t fit her at all to me and OH MY GOD HOW MUCH DO I HATE THAT THE PATCH IS NOW JUST TRCR GOD I HATE THE TREND OF JUST FUCKING REMOVING ALL VOWELS FROM SHIT. 

Also, the clips??? WHY? If you weren’t going to connect them to anything, wjhy keep them? In the original, they clearly keep Tracer’s CA in place while she’s fucking around, and if they decided her new CA (Which is flattened and made into a more wearable thing--I approve) didn’t require that because it fit better or is integrated with the jacket or something WHY IN GOD’S NAME ARE THE CLIPS STILL THERE???

Anyway, MY Lena Oxton would not wear this, or she would, in the name of the team, but she would scowl as she put it on. 

I have no idea yet what they’ve done with DVa, so STAY TUNED. 

Small thoughts: I like that Genji gets to wear clothes! His reign of naked cyborg oppression has ended! I don’t like that they’ve removed McCree’s chaps look from the whole thing, so he looks less cowboyish. 

[olivinesea]

A Mixed Blessing

Chapter List

chapter six: are we fixed or free?

a/n: Sorry for the extended wait, that road trip really did me in. Here’s the next bit. Getting deeper into Aaron & Cole’s dynamic. Again, I’m so sorry? Warning for substances & abuse, as ever. ~4.5k

The summer arrived quickly for Aaron who now had a new secret he didn’t understand. He was uncertain what to make of the events of that afternoon. There was no blueprint for him to follow here. The only intimacy he’d observed with was in the context of his parents’ relationship and that didn’t seem like the best example. The only mentions he’d ever heard of two men being together were lessons about eternal damnation. It made sense that he would belong to such a path. He was already lost in so many ways, he doubted this, or anything, could make it worse. But it still puzzled him, unsure what his feelings were, what they should be.

He reviewed his memories of that afternoon repeatedly, examining the dimensions of the place where his life had taken this unexpected turn. He’d had no way to anticipate any of it but still he tried to gather clues, combing the moments surrounding that first kiss for signs of what would come next. He remembered the way their desperate collision had only broken apart when Cole pressed too hard on his ribs and he had involuntarily cried out in pain. The way Cole had scrambled back, standing up and watching Aaron from a safe distance while the color drained from their flushed cheeks, a mindless passion replaced by apprehension. The way Cole had run his hands through his hair repeatedly, the nervous habit making the blond strands stand on end. Aaron couldn’t remember another time he’d looked so uneasy, before or since.

Aaron had considered him through his dazed high, the drugs mixing with the unexpected surge of hormones to overtake any coherent thought. He had been confused but it was a warm sort of confusion, still feeling the echo of Cole’s hands, his lips, racing across his skin. He’d tried to understand the emotion he was seeing on Cole’s face. He was always trying to understand the minute changes there, searching for a hint at the other boy’s motivations that he kept locked away.

“You’re not stupid are you?”

Aaron frowned, not able to follow this thought. He’d become distracted by the pain in his side, his ribs reminding him of the insult they had endured. He’d lifted his shirt to poke at them gingerly, as if this would make any difference at all.

“Hey!” Cole was impatient.

Aaron’s attention snapped back, wary of the irritation but not sure how to fix it. He wanted to ask what was wrong but his mouth wouldn’t cooperate, his thoughts barely a trickle. He was only live nerve endings and a creeping nausea as the painkillers left his system.

Cole stared at him hard, trying to make him understand without spelling it out. When he didn’t see any sign of recognition he sighed in disgust. “This,” he waved his hand. “All of this. You’re not going to say anything, right?”

Surprised, Aaron shook his head slightly. He didn’t have anyone to tell even if he was foolish enough to want to. He used the tree trunk to help pull himself up so he was standing, doing his best to meet Cole’s gaze. “I—“ he began but his thoughts wouldn’t move in a straight line. It had felt so much like a dream. He could hardly believe it was real if it wasn’t for the blood and grit in his mouth.

Cole watched him, not offering to help as he swayed, finding his balance. He kept one hand on the tree, its solidness soothing. This point of connection to the world was the only thing keeping him in place. Overwhelmed by the whiplash of attentions, anger and affection and desire melting into an unrecognizable mess, he felt like one wrong move could send his cells spiraling out, forming new constellations he’d never return from.

“I won’t tell,” he managed.

Cole nodded, satisfied for now. “You should go home, you look like shit.”

Aaron was having a hard time keeping up. “Home?”

“Damn, are you really that high?”

Aaron wanted to laugh but his throat was too dry. He coughed instead. He still felt Cole’s fingers wrapped behind his neck, was still captivated by the smell his skin, smoke and something sweet, like decay.

“I’ll walk with you but you’ve gotta stand on your own. It’s way too early for me to be carrying you around.”

Aaron followed, a few steps behind, annoyed at the suggestion he’d ever needed to be carried. He watched Cole’s back, following the pattern of his footsteps, retracing their way to his backyard.

Cole looked at him doubtfully. “You better take a shower and clean up. Your parents are going to know something’s up.”

Aaron shrugged pulling a twig from his hair. “I doubt it.” What he meant was that he doubted they would care enough to notice.

“It’s your life I guess.”

They stood awkwardly for a moment, stiff and deliberately distant. Aaron opened his mouth to say something he would want to take back later.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Cole cut him off, turning away before he’d finished speaking. Aaron started up the back steps, his hand reaching the doorknob before he remembered something. He turned and called, “Hey Cole!”

The other boy paused, looking back with a blank expression, closed off and wary.

“Where’d my…”he stumbled on the words, embarrassed to have to ask. “Do you have my medication?”

Cole smiled, patronizing. “Oh I’ve got that, don’t worry. I don’t think it’s smart for you to have that around, do you? We don’t want you doing anything you’ll regret.”

Aaron blushed, mumbling a response about how it was his, how it was none of his business what he did with them but Cole was already walking away.

*

He had never consciously considered his affections before that day. Passing moments had caught his attention but he’d never stopped to think about who or how that would play out in the real world. He couldn’t help feeling like he had committed some offense. If the sermons or the sentiment of the town were to be believed he was making a terrible mistake, an evil choice. And yet it didn’t feel wrong. It felt like the most logical thing in the world.

He battled with himself about it. Telling himself to stop thinking about how good it had felt to be close to someone. That it would be better to forget and move on, pretend the moment hadn’t happened. It was only weakness, he argued against his softer self. A weakness to need validation that he was a creature worthy of that kind of attention. He knew plenty about weakness, knew better than to let it show.

So, despite his excitement, despite the fire that raced through his veins at the memory of that afternoon, he didn’t push for anything more to happen. He simply waited, hoping that time would resolve his uncertainties.

The next time he saw Cole, the older boy ignored him at first. Aaron hung back, watching, trying to get an idea of what he was expected to do. He sat on a tree stump, off to the side of the group, playing with the fraying cuffs of his shirt. It was getting too warm for the long sleeved shirts that he wore most of the year. He shifted uncomfortably as a bead of sweat slipped down between his shoulder blades. He wasn’t sure yet what he was going to do about that problem. He’d always been on his own in the summers, no one to notice the changing landscape of his skin, the dark blue-greys that faded into algae green, traveling up and down his arms, his legs, as the stars moved across the night sky, dependent upon the balance of forces beyond his control. Yet here he was, surrounded by people. They might not notice him, not pay attention to the quietly angry boy who had been absorbed into their group over the past year but he wasn’t sure he could stay so invisible with those kinds of secrets on display.

While he was lost in his thoughts, Cole appeared beside him, offering him a cigarette. He accepted, catching the flame of the lighter, gratefully pulling the smoke into his lungs. He let the sensation distract him from his nerves prickling at the nearness of the other boy. He darted his eyes to Cole, to see if he could read instructions in his expression. Cole’s eyes were fixed on the side of his face, the deep purple bruises he’d left there. No one had asked about these new bruises on his face, but when had anyone ever asked about such things before?

Aaron became uncomfortable with the attention, his knee bouncing rapidly. Cole reached over, touching the swelling on his jaw. Aaron did his best not to flinch, keeping his eyes steady on Cole’s face. He stayed still even as Cole pressed his fingertips harder against the darkened skin, his touch quickly becoming painful. He held his breath, willing himself not to react. The expression in Cole’s eyes was distant, seeing something other than Aaron’s fearful acceptance. The pain became too much and Aaron shifted away slightly, unable to tolerate it any longer. Cole dropped his hand, seeming to snap out of the trance he’d fallen into. Aaron avoided his eyes, looking away and taking a drag on his cigarette.

They didn’t discuss it.

Nothing seemed to change after that, neither of them daring to vocalize their thoughts, so the moment passed and faded. Instead, they fell back into their routine. Somehow Aaron’s pills had become “their” pills and they disappeared quickly. He found that he didn’t care, he was too focused on understanding his newly complicated feelings. He hovered close to Cole, hoping that the nearness might act as a magnet, drawing them back together again. He was afraid to ask for it, afraid of what it meant to want something like that. But maybe if he could just manufacture the right conditions, he thought, maybe then. He still wasn’t sure if he really wanted Cole or if he just wanted to be touched but he was certain the only way to find out would be to try it again.

A couple weeks later they were drunk, stumbling home, laughing at something neither one would remember. As the entered the garage, Cole decided abruptly that he was making too much noise. He pressed his hand over Aaron’s mouth, hissing at him, half playful, half tense. They listened for the sound of footsteps, any indication that they had disturbed his grandmother. Aaron had only seen her once and she seemed nice enough but he could understand the instinct to stay hidden, to move through the world unnoticed. He fell silent and focused on the heat of Cole’s hand, the slight nicotine scent of his fingers held firmly against his lips.

Satisfied no one was coming, he released his grip. When he looked at Aaron, saw the mix of anticipation and desire in his eyes, he stepped back. He wiped his hand roughly against his thigh, as if there were some particularly unpleasant residue imparted. As Aaron struggled to mask his disappointment, Cole’s expression darkened.

“Go home Aaron,” he said roughly.

“What? Why?” He was flustered, scrambling to understand what he had done wrong.

“Get out.” Cole turned away, stalking to his desk where he sat with his back to Aaron.

Aaron stared, wide-eyed, too tipsy to grasp what was going on. “But I thought—“

The words were out of his mouth before he thought better of it. He knew by now not to argue with Cole, knew that pushing against that finality in his voice never got him anywhere. Still, he had let himself hope and he wasn’t ready to let the moment pass.

In an instant Cole was back, standing right in front of him, so close that Aaron lost all his words.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he growled. Something clicked and Aaron placed the emotion he’d been seeing bursts of, slipping into Cole’s words, his actions. He was afraid. Aaron smiled at the realization, just the corner of his mouth twitching up.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Cole tried to push him away, both hands against his chest, but Aaron grabbed him, almost laughing now. Fear was simple, he knew fear. Fear could be overcome if they just kept moving. He couldn’t count all the times he’d been afraid but here he was, still breathing, still wanting something from the world. He pulled Cole closer until their foreheads touched.

“Don’t be stupid,” Cole breathed.

“Too late,” Aaron answered, alcohol obliterating any lingering reservations. Nothing else mattered here. His only thought was that he needed this, to see if it would feel the same as before. That feeling he was forever chasing, where every thought disappeared from his mind and he became only impulse and reaction.

He found what he was looking for.

*

It continued haltingly, never sober, never around other people. Half the time it was followed by icy silences, Cole avoiding Aaron for several days while he sorted out his emotions, searching for a way to rationalize their connection. It hurt his feelings but he could understand this reaction. What they were doing went against everything he’d ever been taught. Cole was caught up in a cycling belief that this behavior was a defect, at best a sign of mental illness, at worst an irrefutable testament to his inferiority. Aaron couldn’t blame him for these thoughts, it was what everyone else believed as well.

It was different for Aaron. His sexuality was not as much of an issue to him. He had thought about it obsessively, trying to decide what it meant that he could want the touch of another man, that he could so easily disregard the taboo placed on such an act. His conclusion was that it didn’t matter, it couldn’t matter when there was so little that was good in his life. The idea that anyone would want to be close to him, would see him as anything other than worthless was too intoxicating to let go.

But he wasn’t completely ready to accept what they were doing either. Sometimes he even hated himself for it, but for different reasons. The thing that gave Aaron pause were the other parts of their relationship, the moments where Cole’s mood shifted, his anger flashed. Sometimes, if circumstances lined up against Aaron— if someone had made a comment to Cole that he didn’t like and he repeated to himself over and over, picking apart the ways they were not only wrong but intentionally stupid, to the point where Aaron rolled his eyes and told him to get over it already, they’d only been high after all; if they had run out of dope and the dealer wasn’t answering; if the wind was too cold or the sun was too bright, sometimes for no reason Aaron could see at all—Cole would snap and strike out at the nearest target. That target was more and more frequently Aaron.

That first time he’d been so shocked, so betrayed he thought it would be the end of him. But that hadn’t happened. Had instead lead to the breakdown of the barrier between them, a positive development in Aaron’s book. The second time he was just as surprised, although looking back maybe he shouldn’t have been. The apology was quick and profuse, Aaron accepted it through a stunned haze. After that, it became nothing more remarkable than any other pattern in his life. It made sense to him that care and pain would be so tied up. In fact, the idea that he could have the first without the second was unimaginable. But in the moments when it happened, the split second before the impact, when he knew it was coming and there was nowhere to run, the expression he saw on Cole’s face was too similar to the one he’d grown up fearing. In those moments he felt sick to his stomach, that he would put himself in this position, that he would seek out the company of a man just like his father. Shouldn’t he be smarter than that? He’d find himself knocked to the ground, his ears ringing as he curled himself into that familiar defensive shape, waiting out the storm so that he could have another chance at feeling the warmth of affection.

At the end of the day, what was one more bruise, really? At least these bruises were accompanied by concern. An awareness of his existence, the kind he’d never gotten at home. Cole noticed when he wasn’t around, noticed when he was slipping too far into his own head. He felt it could almost be considered a fair trade. The good moments at least balanced the bad, if not outweighing them outright. Plus, there were always the drugs to smooth over the rough patches if all else failed. He couldn’t feel a thing as he floated away on the high. Whatever mistakes he’d made over the week, however many times he’d been wrong or in the way, it all disappeared as he accepted the straw handed to him, kneeling over the smoke, as reverent as any penitent seeking absolution.

* In the summer they found themselves with unlimited time to spend together. No classes, no family to interrupt their search for the perfect high. There was no reason to be sober, so he never was, accepting anything that came his way without a second thought. It all melded together in a sleepy numbness, losing track of the days. Time only mattered if he was waiting on his next high, its irritating existence forgotten as soon as he sank back under. When he’d found himself locked out of his home, again (his mother’s new way of expressing her disapproval) he didn’t bother trying to beg her to let him in. He just walked away. He had other places to be now. Places where he could convince himself he was wanted.

Cole took the opportunity of the unstructured days to try something different. At first Aaron was confused when he saw him unwrap the new materials, light reflecting off solid metal rather than the now familiar bits and pieces they had been using to smoke. However, he quickly understood as Cole began to roll up his sleeves.

“You’re not serious.” As lost as he was, Aaron wasn’t sure this was a line he wanted to cross.

Cole barely lifted a shoulder to acknowledge he’d heard anything, too focused on examining his arm for a vein.

“Cole,” his voice tightened, eyes locked on the other boy’s movements. “I don’t know…”

“It’s going to work better,” Cole snapped, irritated that Aaron would question him. He’d thought it out, they were wasting money, his money, and worse, wasting their potential high. This was the obvious next step. “Here,” he tossed a belt at Aaron, “that should help you find one.”

Aaron didn’t move, frozen by conflicting impulses. He was having trouble understanding how he’d gotten here, still disbelieving he could sink so low despite the very real evidence in front of him. But beneath all the anxiety, there was a part of him whispering that Cole was right, that he absolutely wanted this. The prospect of a better high was enticing.

“Hurry up, or I’m doing this without you.”

Aaron chewed on his lip, watching the flame. Cole’s hands were steady, no trace of the tremor Aaron felt in his own. The soft hiss as the dark matter melted was all that he needed to push him to action. He was afraid but that had never mattered, he wasn’t going to miss this.

*

Occasionally, Aaron would surface from his fog, would wonder what Sean was doing, wonder if his mom was okay. He had no idea when he’d last seen them. As much as he resented her for how little she’d done to protect him, he couldn’t be completely unsympathetic when he knew too well what she was up against. If he ever had a passing thought about his father it was only to curse him and wish for his demise to come sooner than later.

Any semblance of a schedule had long since gone out the window. Every day that they could score was a good day to get high. Any day that they couldn’t was a bad day for Aaron. Cole had been right, the high was better with a direct application, but it also meant the lows were meaner. What before had been intermittent bouts of anger, flares of possessiveness when Aaron was out of sight for too long, became all consuming.

His world got smaller.

Aaron stopped going to the places where the rest of the group would hang out. He found it wasn’t worth it to find out what new infraction Cole would imagine, what the consequences might be for accepting a drink or a smoke from the wrong person. It was easier to just stay in the garage, or, if Cole’s mood was too volatile, too many days since their last score, he would wander by himself, back to his old hiding places. When he could think clearly enough he wondered if time was just a circle and he would always find himself back here, hiding from the hands of someone who was supposed to care for him.

Most of the time he didn’t think of anything at all.

* Cole’s birthday arrived in the height of summer, when the days were so long it was hard to believe night would ever fall and the heat so heavy that movement felt like treason. They’d had a stretch of good days, which Aaron tried not to think about too much. He believed that maybe if he didn’t acknowledge it, didn’t look directly at it, they might continue in this peace. He wasn’t aware that it was Cole’s birthday, only that whatever good mood had settled over them was thankfully continuing.

As they made their slow way back from the liquor store, hauling their supplies of beer and cigarettes and a bag of chips that no one would touch, Cole muttered something under his breath. Aaron, fumbling with a cigarette, finding it annoyingly difficult to coordinate the movements of walking and lighting the end, stopped to manage that and missed the exact words.

“Hmm?” he hummed, unconcerned. He’d woken up to gentle fingers combing his hair that morning and managed to avoid saying the wrong thing. On days like this he could almost imagine he led a normal life.

“It’s my birthday,” he sounded sullen, like he regretted bringing it up in the first place.

Aaron stopped trying to light his cigarette and looked at Cole, fighting the urge to wrap his arms around him. That would not go over well in the middle of the sidewalk. Instead he smiled, unreasonably pleased with this information.

“I guess we have to celebrate then,” he said, starting to walk again, just barely brushing his shoulder against the other boy. It was a little reckless—he could never be sure what kind of reaction he would get when initiating contact. It was usually smarter to let Cole come to him, like a dog with an uncertain temper. Cole drew back a little, but relaxed when Aaron didn’t linger. Instead he stepped to the side and scrupulously put a respectable distance between them.

“What do you want to do?” Aaron asked once he was sure he hadn’t crossed any of the wrong lines.

Cole shrugged, “What do we ever do?”

This unenthusiastic response put a slight damper on Aaron’s good mood but no matter. He knew they still had some of their stash leftover, they wouldn’t have to spend the day chasing a dealer. And he would never be disappointed by the prospect of getting high. “Whatever you’d like,” he said simply.

They spent the afternoon lazily drinking beers and smoking in a couple of ancient lawn chairs. Cole’s grandmother had taken a bus to Atlantic City for several days of gambling and inhaling stale cigarette smoke. Aaron liked things best when she went out of town. It almost felt like he and Cole were living together, like adults in their own house. He let his mind run with the fantasy as they sat sweating in the shade. He’d never considered what he might be like as an adult, never thought he’d make it that far. But this, this could be nice. A quiet companionship. Someone to pass him another drink when his ran out. Sure, there were negatives—a persistent risk that he’d say or do the wrong thing and find himself on the shadowed side of a fist but, as far as Aaron could tell, that was just part of life. It couldn’t always be good, but if he could have moments like this, it would be worth it.

Finally, endlessly, the sun set, making only the slightest difference in the temperature. They didn’t move as the color drained from the world around them. Tiny sparks lit up the air, first in ones and twos, until they were surrounded by flashes of life. Aaron tried to spot them all, making wishes like they were shooting stars. Every time it was the same wish: please, let this last.

“I guess it’s time for me to light my candle,” Cole said softly, equally mesmerized by the way the newly visible stars seemed to extend down to them, flickering around their heads. Aaron didn’t reply, just nodded, afraid he might somehow break the spell with his voice. Cole stood and offered him a hand up. He didn’t let go as they walked inside.

An expert now, Cole made short work of setting up their hits. The needle slid seamlessly into a vein, the rush of relief, of tension he hadn’t even realized he was holding melted away. They lay back on the bed side by side, just like the first time, motionless as the world spun away from them. Unlike the first time there was no confusion, no concern for what came next, only a feeling that his heart was so full it hurt. He twitched his fingers, trying to find Cole’s hand beside him. He managed to hook his fingers through Cole’s, his skin cool and dry. Eyes closed, Aaron tried to catch his breath, to catch the words that were vibrating through his bones with every pulse of his heart.

“I love you.”

His voice was so thin and he was so high he wasn’t entirely sure he’d said it out loud. Cole didn’t move, didn’t react at all, already deeply lost to the drug. Aaron knew it was better that way. The words felt strange, so foreign. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d said them, wasn’t sure he ever had. His consciousness filtered away, trailing the words behind him. He wouldn’t remember saying them in the morning.

chapter seven

[rebeccatherine]

Reconnaissance

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel Rating: Mature Characters: Sharon Carter (Marvel), Sam Wilson (Marvel), Arthur Parks Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Espionage Summary: Sam Wilson accompanies Sharon Carter on an undercover SHIELD mission.

Read on AO3 under the pseud rebeccavis or below.

Sam had offered to sleep on the floor. He said he was used to it from his days in the military, which Sharon understood; Steve had mentioned to her offhandedly before that his bed never felt quite right. However, on this occasion the bed was probably the safest place for both of them. As she had pointed out to Sam, they had a clear view of the window from there should they need it and, if anyone decided to check in on them, it would look a little strange for a doting wife to be alone in a king-size bed. Sam, after looking horrified by the notion of someone spying on him while he was asleep, eventually conceded. 

“Sorry.” Sam’s whisper had been preceded by the sound of something soft hitting the floor. “Why do they give you so many dang pillows?”

Sharon chuckled. “I don’t know,” she admitted, “Rich people shit?”

Their backs were turned to each other and, even if they hadn’t been, Sharon doubted she’d be able to see much of anything in the darkness of their isolated cabin. She heard a soft rumble from next to her, though, and could see Sam smiling in her head. “Rich people shit,” he agreed.

Sharon supposed she was meant to go to sleep now. While she hadn’t served in the military, she’d had her fair share of sleeping in strange places as a SHIELD agent, many of which had been far less comfortable than where she was at the moment. Even so, this was maybe the first time she was worried about having trouble drifting off. Her mind was usually where she felt it should be: focused on the job and what steps she needed to take to ensure its success, including getting a good night’s sleep. Tonight, her mind was for some reason lingering on terms of endearment, unexpected compliments and arms wrapped tenderly around her waist. 

She felt Sam’s weight shift slowly next to her and suspected he was turning over onto his other side. It was something she had been thinking about, too, although now it meant they’d be face to face, which would be weird. Or would it? She settled for rolling over onto her back instead to stare at the ceiling. Her eyes were starting to adjust to the darkness, and she could just about trace the outline of the wooden beams above her head.

“Hey, Shar?” Sam’s voice was soft, but so unexpected that she froze for a split second. “Can we talk?”

*

“Sam? Is my purse out there?” Sharon had raised her voice a little, hoping she’d be heard from outside the bathroom where she was putting on her makeup. 

“Uh...yeah, I see it, baby,” she heard Sam reply, emphasizing his last word significantly more than was necessary, “Do you need it?”

“Oh, I think I left something in there, but I can…” Sharon trailed off as she heard footsteps in her direction and then a gentle rap on the door she hadn’t bothered to lock. “You can come in. I’m almost done.”

The door opened with a click and Sam stepped in, offering up a smile as his eyes met hers. She could tell there was a slight nervousness to his expression, at odds with how comfortably the bespoke dark suit he was wearing fit him.  

“Almost, huh?” he said, his tone playful.

“Wouldn’t want to forget my lipstick,” Sharon explained, reaching over to take her small silver clutch from his hand, “Thanks.”

“Yeah, you’d look terrible without it,” Sam teased, to which Sharon chuckled. 

Having reclaimed the missing item from her purse, Sharon turned back towards the mirror to apply the deep red shade to her lips. It reminded her of the colors her aunt had always been fond of wearing, perhaps even more so because, like her aunt once had, she was currently sporting brunette shoulder-length curls. Her dress, on the other hand - red, full-length, with a front slit and a mostly open back - was probably something Peggy would not have opted for unless she had also been undercover.  

“Just to be clear - you look amazing, Shar.” She glanced over her shoulder at the sound of Sam’s words, then directed a grin at him.

“So we’re not going with ‘baby’?” she asked. 

Sam’s brow furrowed. “Damn it.”

“It’s OK, you don’t have to worry. While you were out I put a bug killer in one of the lamps by the bed, so nobody’s listening in on us,” Sharon assured him as she turned around, “It’s good to get some practice, though.”

“I just thought ‘baby’ would be easier,” Sam explained, “I’m worried I’m going to forget to call you by your cover name.”

“‘Baby’ works great. I’ll go with it, too.” Sharon gave a nod to indicate she was ready to go, then emerged with Sam into the bedroom. “Look, I know this undercover stuff isn’t exactly your thing, but I promise you’re in safe hands,” she added, “Besides, it’s not like you have to put on a British accent or anything.”

“Thank God,” Sam noted, “I bet you can do a great British accent. You have family from there, right?”

“Yeah, that’s an easy one for me. My grandfather’s whole side of the family is British.”

“Did they teach you any fun British slang?”

“Plenty, but I’m pretty sure it’s all from the fifties so I’m totally out of date.” Sharon gave a small shrug of her shoulders. “You know my aunt used to call me ‘Shaz’ sometimes?”

“Shaz?” Sam echoed. His eyebrows raised as he shot an endearing glance at her, clearly entertained by the idea. “That’s amazing. Can I call you ‘Shaz’?”

“Absolutely not,” Sharon replied, though she kept her tone light.

“Noted. Although I make no promises after this mission is over and I’ve found the nearest place where I can get a daiquiri,” Sam noted, “You don’t have to join me, though.”

“Maybe I’d be OK with it under those circumstances,” Sharon conceded with a smile, “I do like ‘Shar’, though.”

Sam looked pleased with himself. He made his way over to the bed to pick up Sharon’s coat, which he offered to her. “Trust me, I’ve worked with you enough and heard enough to know I’m in the safest of hands,” he affirmed, “I just don’t want to get in your way. Do the photos look good?”

“Oh, yeah, they’re perfect. All you need to do is distract Parks and I know exactly where I need to go,” Sharon slipped her arms into the outstretched garment, shrugging it over her shoulders and gently tugging her hair out from underneath it. “Tell Redwing I said thanks.” 

“I will,” Sam replied after a small pause, “So we’re in, we talk to the party guests for a bit, you go download the files, and we’re out. Pretty straightforward apart from the fact that our ride isn’t coming until tomorrow morning.”

“So unlike Maria to not come pick up her friends after a party, but what can you do?” Sharon joked, “I think we’ll be OK to spend the night in our luxury log cabin.”

“I can always take the floor,” Sam said. 

“We can talk about that later. Let me give you your comm.” Sharon’s purse didn’t have room for much besides her lipstick and some cash, but the communication devices - one of which she handed to Sam - barely took up any space at all. “Is there anything else we need to go over?”

“I don’t think so. I’m glad we have these,” Sam admitted, then something seemed to occur to him, “Oh, I was going to ask you about ground rules. I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable, but I know we’re supposed to be married...I guess I don’t know how this usually works.”

“When we’re in the field pretending to be a couple we tend not to go overboard on public displays of affection unless the intention is to make someone else feel uncomfortable. Honestly, though, I wouldn’t worry too much about it. I trust you.” Sharon exchanged a small smile with him, and was glad to see he looked a little relieved. 

“Alright, then, Mrs. Dixon. Let’s go.” Sam offered up his arm, which Sharon took as they made their way down the wooden staircase to the living room. “This is some really weird rich people shit, you know. What kind of person owns what looks like an English mansion in upstate New York and makes his friends hire out nearby log cabins with no cellphone service just to attend his party?”

Sharon laughed, partly because it sounded a lot like something Tony Stark might do. “I’m glad you got that off your chest,” she commented, “And you’re right. Unfortunately, tonight I think we’re going to have to deal with a lot of rich people shit.”

*

“Name?” The man at the entrance to the mansion was dressed as a butler and peering at Sam as if he was a curiosity, which gave Sharon a strong urge to kick him in the face with one of her high heels. 

“Dixon. Sean Dixon,” Sam told him with a confidence that meant Sharon didn’t have to force a smile. She gave his arm an affectionate squeeze, having kept her own wrapped around it for most of the drive over.

“Ah, yes, and you must be the lovely Cherie Dixon.” The butler pronounced her name with a perfect French accent, so Sharon naturally had to correct him.

“Oh, it’s ‘Sherry’, but believe me, if I could say it your way I would,” she declared. The giggle she gave along with her words was fake but well-practiced, unlike the smile the butler gave her in return which was simply fake.  

“If you would be so kind as to step into our testing area,” the butler instructed them. 

Sharon gave a small nod which Sam mirrored, and the two of them made their way inside. Out of the corner of her eye, Sharon noticed that their ride - a chauffeured limousine that had been provided by the owner of the mansion - was still waiting in the extended driveway. She wondered what instructions the chauffeur had been given should she and/or Sam turn out to be mutants.

They had both been briefed early on that the party had a strict policy against mutants attending. It wasn’t a particularly new development; there were many, particularly those in power, who didn’t like that mutants could often hide in plain sight unlike most of the Avengers. What wasn’t clear, however, was how such policies were being enforced, and that was one of the things she and Sam had been tasked with finding out.

“Please give me your left index finger.” Sharon had been ushered along with Sam through the first door on the left, where a line of men and women dressed as old-fashioned footmen and maids were holding anachronistic devices that were roughly the same shape as a large calculator. She glanced at Sam, who just barely raised his eyebrows, then turned to the woman who had addressed her. 

“Here you go,” she said, letting go of her companion’s arm to present her left hand to what she assumed was a lab technician-turned-maid. The woman clearly didn’t have much in the way of bedside manner, as she pricked Sharon’s finger with a needle without so much as a warning. She then instructed her to press the small drop of blood to a pad on the device she was holding, where a bright light shone behind Sharon’s finger before she received a reading. 

“NO X-GENE DETECTED,” the screen flashed. 

“Is that good?” Sharon asked, her eyes wide.

The woman who had tested her all but rolled her eyes. “Yeah. That’s good,” she said, then turning to Sam, “You’re up next.”

Sharon’s eyes darted around to the other would-be house staff while Sam was similarly tested for his lack of a mutant gene. The devices they were using were unfamiliar to her, and she could almost make out a logo on the back of them but not quite. For now, she just made a mental note to try to steal one of the devices before they left the mansion for the night. 

“NO X-GENE DETECTED,” the screen flashed again, and Sam was also cleared to go out the door and back into the foyer.

“I feel like she drew way more blood than she needed to,” Sharon remarked, shaking her head. The needle prick didn’t really bother her at all and she’d had far worse injuries in the field, but Sam had been very quiet so far and it was starting to unnerve her how differently he was acting compared to his usual self. She hoped that she might be able to help him relax by drawing him into a conversation. 

“Oh, yeah?” Sam’s response wasn’t very encouraging but he did offer her his hand, which she took. 

“Maybe she was just jealous,” Sharon mused playfully. Sam had taken her hand in both of his and gently turned it over. “What are you doing?”

“Just surveying the damage,” Sam said with a hint of a smile, “You think she was jealous of your ring?”

Sharon had managed to almost forget about the 2 carat, heart-shaped engagement ring and matching wedding ring on her left finger. Sam clearly hadn’t, though, and she was glad he seemed to be settling into his role. “I think she was jealous of my gorgeous husband,” she replied, “You do look very good in that suit, baby.”

“Well, you look good in pretty much everything, baby,” Sam replied. Something about the way he was looking at her took Sharon off guard, and she was surprised to feel the back of her neck grow hot. Sam was apparently a better actor than she had given him credit for.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice coming out quieter than she intended at first. She cleared her throat and then added: “You’ve always known how to compliment a girl.”

“Isn’t that why you married me?” Sam teased. He let go of her hand and offered his arm to her again. 

“One of many reasons,” Sharon replied with a grin. She accepted his offer and then nodded towards an open doorway that led into what appeared to be the living room. “Everyone seems to be heading in there and it looks like they have drinks, so I vote we go check my coat and then we follow,” she suggested. 

“Lead the way, Cherie.” Sam managed a pretty decent impersonation of the butler from earlier, and Sharon laughed.

“Shut up.”

*

“Sher-ee.”

“Sher-ee,” Sharon repeated, butchering the French guttural ‘R’ sound as if she hadn’t had plenty of practice speaking French in her line of work.

“Eh, close enough.” The woman seated in a small, cream-colored armchair across from Sharon and Sam shrugged her shoulders with a smile, tossing her shoulder-length blonde bob. Sharon didn’t know too much about her yet but she did know that her name was Marie, she seemed to speak better French than Sharon did even when she wasn’t pretending, and - most importantly - she was their ticket to the person they were looking for. She seemed younger than Sharon, maybe twenty at most, and eager to make conversation. Sharon had spotted her chatting with the host of the party earlier, and all they needed to do now was get her to lead them to him.

“Didn’t you tell me your name means ‘darling’?” Sam asked, glancing at Sharon. They were sitting on a powder blue couch, his arm resting gently around her shoulders. 

Sharon all but batted her eyelashes. “That’s what my mom always said.”

“Yes, she was correct,” Marie said enthusiastically, “From chérir, to cherish.”

“Like the Madonna song,” Sharon joked. Sam chuckled, but Marie’s blank expression suggested to Sharon she’d been right about the other woman’s age.

“Clearly your mother chose well,” Marie continued, “You make a wonderful couple.”

“Thank you. I feel like I can barely remember what life was like before Sean,” Sharon said, all smiles, “We’re a good team. He makes up for all the things I’m missing.”

“Come on, baby, there isn’t anything you’re missing,” Sam insisted. 

“It’s OK, I know I’m not the smartest cookie in the cookie jar,” Sharon retorted, “But you, on the other hand...I’m telling you, Marie, you’re looking at the world’s next Tony Stark.”

“My wife likes to brag about me,” Sam told Marie, “I also love to hear it, though, so it all works out.”

“So you are interested in technology?” Marie asked.

“I’m working on starting up my own tech company,” Sam explained, “Cherie’s father is an investor and I’m looking for a few more.”

“In that case, you should definitely talk to Arthur if you haven’t yet. I know he’s always looking for new collaborators,” Marie said, “You know the mutant detectors that scanned your blood when you first arrived?”

“So that’s what they were?” Sharon mused out loud.

“Wait, did Parks provide the lasers they use in those?” Sam piped up.

Marie grinned. “Yes. He and Trask are hoping they’ll be able to make them available to the mass market soon.”

“That’s impressive,” Sam said with a nod, “Do you work with him?”

“Oh, no.” Despite Marie’s reply, Sharon could tell she was flattered by the notion that she might be involved in Arthur Parks’s company. Nice going, Sam. “I’ve just known him since I was very young. Arthur’s wife, Lucy, knew my father and when I was growing up he wasn’t around very much...the Parks practically raised me.”

“Well, clearly you’ve picked up a lot from them. I’m around Sean all the time and I still don’t really understand his work,” Sharon said with a laugh.

“I actually had been hoping to get a chance to talk to Mr. Parks. I’ve never met him directly but from talking to friends of his I really think we’d have a lot to offer each other,” Sam affirmed.

“Then allow me to introduce you,” Marie offered, “Trust me, it would be my pleasure.” 

*

“Alright, Sam, I’m in the study. Clear your throat if our friend is suitably distracted.”

Sharon soon heard Sam’s subtle assurance over her comm, although she almost didn’t need it because she could also hear Arthur Parks droning on in the background. She felt relieved that she had only had to stand next to Sam and pretend to be interested in the man’s work for a relatively short time before, as she had expected him to, Parks had invited ‘Sean’ to join him and a couple of other men for a cigar. Sharon had then spent a few minutes in Marie’s company before excusing herself to use the powder room. Her companion had offered to go with her, but Sharon had managed to convince her that she needed some privacy when she implied that she might be taking a pregnancy test. 

“I’ll be as fast as I can and keep you updated. Sorry this has to be a one-way conversation,” Sharon told Sam. 

When she thought about it, there were quite a few things she felt as though she wanted to apologize to Sam for. This wasn’t supposed to be his mission in the first place, for one. The original plan had been for Steve to accompany her, until the discovery that more than a few guests at the party had ties to HYDRA had made it impossible for Steve to go incognito. Sam had the technical expertise to both help in the field and impress Parks, so he had been the natural choice. The world of espionage was far from Sam’s natural environment, though, and even though he’d been doing well so far, Sharon felt a sense of responsibility in making sure nothing happened to him. That feeling was coupled with a decent-sized amount of guilt that she would actually rather be on a mission with Sam than Steve at the moment. 

“I’ve got to admit I’m a little envious of you, Dixon. It sounds like your story’s just starting and you have a world of opportunities ahead of you. I remember when it felt that way for me.”

Sharon rolled her eyes as she took her lipstick out of her purse and popped a concealed flash drive out of the bottom of it. She had little to no sympathy for the plight of someone like Arthur Parks. 

“I do feel very lucky,” Sharon heard Sam’s voice say, “Now, don’t get me wrong, I’ve definitely had to hustle, but the hustle was worth it.”

“Hacking in now,” she informed Sam quietly, the flash drive now inserted into Parks’s personal laptop. 

“Mmmm, and I’m sure having a rich wife can’t have hurt. I wasn’t so lucky.”

Arthur Parks’s use of the word ‘wasn’t’ gave Sharon pause. They hadn’t been given any intel on his marriage having recently fallen apart, although it was a little odd that his wife Lucy didn’t seem to be in attendance at the party.

“A word of advice, Dixon, although it’s probably too late,” Parks continued unprompted, “Always sign a prenup.”

Sam gave what sounded like a slightly nervous laugh. “I don’t think I need to worry about my wife.” Sharon was about to tell him not to be afraid to throw his wife under the metaphorical bus if he needed to, but a third person with an English accent spoke up before she had a chance. 

“I think this one’s a lost cause, Arthur.” Sharon had heard the man introduce himself as Jonathan Wilson a little bit earlier. “You and your wife seem very much in love.”

“I really think it’d be hard not to fall in love with Cher,” Sam declared. Sharon noticed his ‘Cher’ sounded a little close to ‘Shar’, but hopefully nobody else would pick up on it. “I mean, you’ve all seen how beautiful she is but on top of that she’s so...brave, and talented, and just so competent…”

Sharon couldn’t help the smile that crossed her features for a moment, even if it quickly vanished as she realized she was listening to a bout of silence. Either something had gone wrong with the comms or Sam had paused awkwardly mid-sentence and although the latter was preferable, it still wasn’t ideal. 

“...at making me happy, you know what I’m saying?” Sharon heard a few ripples of laughter following Sam’s joke, and she breathed an inaudible sigh of relief. 

“Nice recovery,” she told him, “Alright, I’m in. Just keep doing your thing, but maybe don’t lean into the doting husband role too much. I don’t see so much as a picture of Athur’s wife in his study and it sounds like things got ugly.”

The conversation took more of a business slant again and Sharon was able to relax ever so slightly, continuing to listen while she went through the files on Arthur Parks’s laptop. She had always found it a little ironic that the objective of any given mission, like this, tended to be the easiest part. Getting in and getting out were usually the parts that you had to worry about. 

“Looks like the intel we got was solid. Parks is definitely trying to build himself some kind of team, but I think SHIELD will have to dig deeper to find out what for,” Sharon informed Sam, “I’m copying the list of contacts and his correspondence. Lots of familiar names here, several associated with HYDRA...and Georges Batroc. Interesting.”

“Anyway, I’m sure you’re tired of listening to me by now. Maybe I can get my laptop and show you some photos of all the places Parks lasers have been used. Who knows, I might even give you some ideas about where they haven’t.”

Sharon stiffened as she glanced at the progress bar in the corner of the computer screen. “I’m not done,” she said after hearing Arthur Parks’s words, “Sam, can you stall him?”

“I...think I already have some ideas, actually,” Sharon heard Sam say, “Marie mentioned you were interested in music, and I…”

“Marie thinks she knows a lot more than she actually does,” Parks interrupted, “My wife is the music lover. Not that her taste in music is any good.”

“Marie’s just a kid,” Sam noted softly, “They always think they know a lot.”

“Not that much of a kid.” Arthur Parks’s voice was quieter than before and Sharon was having a hard time hearing him. “It’d be nice if she acted like more of an adult every once in a while.”

“Almost there,” Sharon said to Sam. Her fingers were hovering over the flash drive, ready to retrieve it the moment it was finished copying the files. “Just keep him talking.”

“Well, she has nothing but nice things to say about you and your wife, so it seems like you taught her something,” Sam said, managing to keep his tone jovial, “She said you practically raised her?”

“You seem to be very interested in Marie,” Parks commented. Sharon thought she might have heard the sound of a clinking glass. “Wilson?”

“Yeah?” Sam answered at the exact same time as another voice that Sharon presumed belonged to Jonathan Wilson did. 

Shit. Sharon watched the progress bar creep towards the end far too slowly for her taste as Arthur Parks offered Jonathan Wilson a drink. 

“Sorry. I thought you said Dixon,” Sam said sheepishly.  

“Well, I was also going to ask you a different question,” Parks said, “You a Scotch drinker?”

 “Sometimes,” Sam answered. 

“Sometimes,” Parks echoed with a chuckle, “Where are you from again?”

“New York,” Sam replied, “City. The City. Harlem.” He clearly remembered his cover story but seemed to be having trouble keeping his nerves under control. 

“Right, right.”

“Got it,” Sharon declared, “I’m going to close up here and I’ll come knock on the door looking for you.”

“There’s something about your accent, though…” she heard Parks muse while she stowed the flash drive away back in her lipstick tube, “Sometimes it sounds a little off to me.”

“I can’t pick up on anything...but then, I don’t suppose I’d be able to,” Jonathan Wilson commented with a chortle.  

Sharon stood up after closing Parks’s laptop, making sure it looked just as it did when she had first found it. She felt as though she could practically hear Sam’s heart beating faster, or perhaps it was just her own. “Hey, don’t be afraid to change your backstory a little if you need to,” she encouraged him, “The easiest lies to tell are the ones with a bit of truth.”

“How did you know?” Sam said, feigning being impressed, “My dad is from Louisiana. I don’t even notice it most of the time but Cher tells me sometimes the occasional word slips out.”

Sharon smiled to herself. The door to the study was closed behind her and from there it was only a quick trip across the hallway to where she needed to be. Granted, it was quite a large hallway. 

“I knew it,” Parks declared, “I’ve been to Louisiana a couple of times. New Orleans is a great…” 

Sharon knocked loudly at the door. When Arthur Parks pulled it open, he was greeted with the sight of her with her hair slightly dishevelled and grinning from ear to ear. 

“Can I help you, Mrs. Dixon?” he asked. 

“I just thought I’d stop by to rescue my husband,” Sharon answered.

*

It was getting in and getting out that you had to worry about. Getting to the party had required a lot of planning, from SHIELD providing Sharon and Sam with aliases and a mission briefing to their conversations on the flight to New York. During that time they had also planned how they’d be getting out, but that plan hinged on everyone perceiving them as nothing more than party guests. To that end, what they couldn’t do was leave the party at the nearest opportunity. Rather than make more small talk, Sharon had suggested they head to the ballroom and she didn’t think she’d ever seen Sam look more relieved. 

“So do you think I thoroughly destroyed your chances at entering into a business deal with Arthur Parks?” Sharon wondered playfully. She had to lean in close to him to be heard over the music, but that was easy to do when they were dancing.  

“Oh, I think those chances are pretty much roadkill by now,” Sam replied, making her chuckle, “That’s alright. I think if I’d had to listen to him for another half hour I’d have lost my mind.”

“I wouldn’t blame you. It’s his loss, at any rate.”

“Sure is. For a successful businessman, he seems pretty good at losing things.” Sam lifted his arm and gently twirled her around while she barely hid a grin. 

“You can spin me more than that,” she said, “I used to be a figure skater, you know.”

“Wait, really?” Sam closed the small distance between them as the song changed to one with a slower tempo, his hands coming to her waist. 

“Oh, yeah. My mom taught me to ice skate when I was a kid,” Sharon explained, “Have you ever tried it?”

“No, I haven’t, but I always thought it looked fun,” Sam replied, “I guess it’s probably a bit like flying.”

 “Well, I’ve never flown, but to me it feels a lot like flying.” Sharon let her arms rest around Sam’s shoulders almost without thinking about it. “I’m a little out of practice, but I still go sometimes. I’ll take you - maybe before rather than after we go to a bar for that daiquiri.”

Sam seemed to like that idea if his grin was any indication. “You’ve got yourself a deal.” He glanced over his shoulder momentarily and then leant in so that he could lower his voice even more, speaking softly  close to her ear. “You just need to go on a few more ops with me if you ever want to try flying.”

Sharon was surprised not by Sam’s gesture but her own reaction to it. She’d seen him harmlessly flirt with other people before, especially Natasha, and she enjoyed flirting herself when the occasion called for it. The unusual part was feeling her neck grow hot and letting her gaze linger on his lips when he pulled back. “I’d like that,” she admitted, “You’re a good partner.” 

Sam smiled again.

Sharon swiftly decided that she should keep talking, mostly because she wasn’t sure what she’d do if she didn’t. “Hopefully next time you’ll get to have a little more fun,” she told him.  

“Hey, I’m having fun,” Sam insisted, to which Sharon raised her eyebrows. “I am now, at least.” Sharon laughed. “I do wish the music was a little better.”

“Mmm, some Marvin Gaye, maybe?” Sharon suggested.

“For starters,” Sam replied, a hint of suspicion in his smile. 

“You know who probably would’ve picked better music?” Sharon said. She was struggling to keep a straight face before the punchline of her own joke, which she decided to attribute to a combination of both the high and relief from having completed a large part of their mission. “Arthur Parks’s wife,” she just about managed to get out before she burst into laughter, hiding her face in Sam’s shoulder. She heard him laughing as well, which only made it more difficult for her to compose herself, but at least she figured the other party guests wouldn’t think much of it. 

“You’re a great partner,” Sam declared, then adding, “We’re good to stay here for the rest of the party, right?”

Sharon nodded, pressing her lips together to suppress any remnants of her giggles. “I did just tell you that I’m pregnant, after all.” Sam’s eyes widened almost comically for a moment before he seemed to remember the excuse Sharon had used to get rid of Marie. 

“Of course,” Sam joined in, “We can name the kid Laser.”

Sharon had to cover her mouth with one of her hands to muffle a guffaw. 

*

“Hey, Shar? Can we talk?”

Somehow, Sharon had a feeling Sam didn’t want to talk about the mission, which had gone remarkably smoothly, all things considered. The intel they needed was stored on the flash drive in Sharon’s purse, which was sitting on the nightstand next to something else they had also managed to bring back. Just before they left the mansion, they had returned to the testing room with an excuse about Sharon having misplaced her wedding ring. While Sam distracted the woman who had tested Sharon earlier, Sharon had managed to grab one of the mutant detectors and the staff seemed none the wiser. The only real concern now was the fact that they had to spend the rest of the night in their cabin, which meant if Arthur Parks or anyone else did suspect them, they would know where to find them. Sam was aware of all of that, though, and she would be very surprised if he wanted to go over what to do if they caught a glimpse of someone staring at them through the window. 

“Sure,” she replied, her eyes still on the ceiling. She let out a small exhale before she rolled over onto her side to face Sam, barely able to make out his expression in the darkness. “Is everything OK?”

“Yeah. I just...I’m not even sure I should be saying anything, but...y’know, aside from almost forgetting New York was both a state and a city and being called ‘entertaining’ by some weird British folks, I actually had a really good time tonight.”

 Sharon couldn’t help a small smile. “I kind of meant it when I told Marie we made a good team.”

“Did you mean it when you said we should go ice skating and then for drinks?” That question caught Sharon off guard, particularly in how hopeful Sam sounded when he said it. “It’s OK if you didn’t,” he added quickly, before she had a chance to respond, “We’ve known each other for a while, but we’ve never…” Sam paused. “Tonight, when we were dancing, I just felt like…”

“I felt it, too,” Sharon said quietly. 

“OK.” She was starting to be able to see his face better as her eyes continued to adjust to the light, and she realized a smile was slowly spreading across it. “OK,” he repeated with a nod, “I’m kind of getting the feeling there’s a ‘but’ coming, though.”

“There’s a ‘but’,” Sharon admitted. His delight at the notion that they both felt similarly was already making her reconsider what she was about to say, but she wanted to be honest with him. “I’m not ready, Sam.”

“Ah. There it is,” Sam said. His grin vanished, as she expected, and he gave a small nod. “I understand. You did break up with Captain America. That had to have been pretty crazy.”

“Or, as my extended family likes to tell me, I’m the crazy one.” Sharon flashed a humorless smile. “I don’t...I’m not in love with Steve anymore, but that breakup wasn’t easy. It wasn’t even anyone’s fault, really, it was just...well, I’m sure the last thing you want to hear is gossip about your best friend.”

“I did just kind of admit to having a crush on my best friend’s ex-girlfriend, though,” Sam noted.

“I guess you did.” Sharon’s smile was genuine this time. “God, I wish we’d figured this out sooner.”

“I’ll take some of the blame for that. I was too busy staring at redheads.”

“And I was too busy thinking if I stuck around long enough Steve might fall in love with me.”

“Shar…” Sam’s voice was soft, and Sharon suddenly felt like she might have said too much. 

“If you were just a hot stranger this would be a whole lot easier,” she joked, trying to lighten the mood. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment, I think,” Sam teased back, “It’s OK, Sharon. Sometimes the timing just isn’t right.”

“I just meant that if it was someone I didn’t really care about, maybe I’d go on a date or two and it wouldn’t end well but it wouldn’t be a big deal. If it was you, though...I wouldn’t want to mess it up.”

“If it was you, I wouldn’t want to mess it up, either.” Sharon’s breath caught in her throat. “Can I...can I ask you a favor, though? If you do feel like you’re ready someday, and assuming you haven’t met anyone even hotter, can you let me know?”

“What if you’re dating Natasha Romanoff by then?” Sharon asked, not entirely unseriously. 

“In that case I would like everyone to please give us as much privacy as possible,” Sam replied with a smirk. 

“Wow, OK. She’s really your type?”

“Are you jealous, Shaz?”

Sharon couldn’t help but laugh. “Maybe a little. Is that OK?”

“Yeah. That’s OK.” Sam’s eyes had what could only be described as a twinkle in them. “You still haven’t answered me.”

“You’ll be the first to know.”

[onecanonlife]

careful son (you got dreamer's plans)    

Wilbur gasps back to life with mud between his fingers and rain in his eyes.

Wilbur was dead. Now, he is not. He can't say that he's particularly happy about it.

Unfortunately, the server is still as tumultuous as ever, even with Dream locked away, so it seems that his involvement in things isn't a matter of if, but when.

(Alternatively: the prodigal son returns, and a broken family finally begins to heal. If, that is, the egg doesn't get them all killed first.)

Chapter Word Count: 3,775

Chapter Content Warnings: swearing, references to scars, implied s.uicidal ideation

Chapter Summary: In which Wilbur makes it to Technoblade, and a conversation is had.

(masterlist w/ ao3 links)

(previous chapter) (next chapter)

Chapter Two: shiver to that broken beat

He underestimated how cold he would get. By the time he finally finds Techno’s cabin, Ghostbur’s memories guiding him over the hills, he’s fairly certain that his fingers and toes are halfway to frostbite, and he’s shivering uncontrollably. If Techno ends up wanting to kill him, he won’t have to do much. Not letting him inside would be enough.

He isn’t sure if he’d respawn. Isn’t sure if he’s got another three lives, or if it’s just the one. Whether it’s three lives to live, three lives to lose, three lives to waste, three lives that he shouldn’t have in the first place, three lives to spare. Two lives to throw away, if need be. Or if it’s just the one.

(the one that he never wanted at all)

(an image flashes: Tommy staring into lava. Ghostbur found him like that, once, and thinking about it now makes his heart stutter in his chest)

He mounts the steps to Techno’s cabin, sparing a glace for—are those polar bears? Does Techno have polar bears tied up outside? He shakes his head, because yes, of course he does, it’s Techno, and then he is standing in front of the door, and he’s suddenly feeling a lot more trepidation about this whole thing. It’s irrational, really, but he can’t shake it, can’t shake the fear that this is going to go terribly, and this whole journey was a mistake.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, his breath puffing in front of his face. “Fuck everything.” The swearing doesn’t make him feel much better, but watching his breath fog up does remind him that he is very cold, and that he needs to be inside now. Even if this ends in him respawning, it’ll be somewhere warmer than this, hopefully.

He knocks. Four times, loudly. There is no response, so he does it again. There is still no answer, and he can’t resist the dark glare that he casts at the door. If he’s come all this way only for Techno to not be home, he’s going to be very put out. He’s also definitely not above breaking into his house, if need be.

He knocks one last time for good measure, already mapping his way in. There’s a window he can break—

“Hold your damn horses, I’m coming!”

It’s unmistakably Techno’s voice, and every muscle in Wilbur’s body tenses up, ready to fight, ready to flee, ready to do whatever the moment asks of him. For a brief, hysterical moment, he entertains the idea of abandoning this whole thing, of ducking out of sight and letting Techno think that it was someone playing a prank. This is the last moment to back out.

He doesn’t, in spite of his better judgment,

(or perhaps because of it, he doesn’t know, doesn’t even know if he has ‘better’ judgment at all, these days)

and he jams his hands in his pockets and tries for all the world to adopt a casual pose before the door is swinging open, and Techno is there.

(his brother is there)

“Alright, who—” Techno starts, and stops just as quickly, staring at him with wide eyes.

Techno looks… good. He looks good. Dressed in warm layers, that damn red cape he’s so fond of flowing out behind him, his stupid crown on his head. His hair is braided neatly, his tusks sharpened to gleaming points, and if, perhaps, the bags under his eyes are a bit darker than they should be, Wilbur won’t point it out. What’s a little lost sleep, in the grand scheme of things? Technoblade seems like he’s thriving up here, the Antarctic Empire all over again, and Wilbur feels a sharp flare of

(jealousy)

(relief)

emotion. He tries not to let it show on his face.

“Hello, Technoblade,” he says. “Can I come in?”

For a long minute, Techno says nothing at all. Just stares, motionless, unblinking. Wilbur can’t remember the last time he saw his brother look so shocked.

(yes you can, you liar, you dirty liar, it was the first time he heard you yell at Tommy, really rip into him, and the shock was only there for a second, he hid it well, but you saw it, you know you did, you just pretended not to, pretended that this was all normal and what you were doing was justified)

“I hate to press you, but it’s fucking freezing,” he adds.

“Shit,” Techno says. “Shit, how are you—Phil said that it didn’t—Wilbur.” He bursts into motion, then, and Wilbur barely tamps down the instinct to punch him, to claw at him and fight and get away as he suddenly steps forward, gripping him by the forearms, crushingly enough to hurt, to leave bruises later. Wilbur furrows his brow at this reaction, but doesn’t have too much time to think about it, because Techno is right there now, right in his face, and that’s too close. Too close. Too much. Techno’s hands almost seem to be burning through the sleeves of his coat, and his skin tingles, as if there are sparks rushing across it.

“It is you, right?” Techno says. “Not—no, Ghostbur wouldn’t, and—wow, I’m gonna need all of you to be quiet. Wait, so where’s Ghostbur, then?”

The bitterness that washes over him is surprising. Perhaps it shouldn’t be. Because it isn’t surprising that Techno asked as much, and something in him, a snarling, angry thing, whispers, of course, of course he would rather have Ghostbur than you, of course he’d rather the pathetic amnesiac remnant, the fragment of a soul that couldn’t handle a single negative emotion, much less act on one, of fucking course that’s the version of you that he likes most, what else did you expect?

(of course he prefers the you that isn’t insane, that doesn’t lash out at anything and everything, even your own family)

“Gone,” he says, short and clipped. “Or so I assume. Sorry to disappoint.”

Techno has the nerve to look confused, his ears twitching. “What? No, that’s not what I—” He stops, then, looking him up and down, his brow furrowing, and Wilbur is about two seconds from breaking out of his hold in the most violent manner possible, because it’s too restraining and too much. “Wow. Okay. You are not dressed to be out here. C’mon.”

“Do you really think I don’t know that?” he gripes, but he doesn’t resist as Techno tugs him indoors, biting back a gasp as the warm air surrounds him. He spares a cursory glace for the inside of Techno’s house, but he knows the layout—Ghostbur was here often enough. “Why do you think I wanted to come inside in the first place?”

He’s expecting a snarky comment back. It’s an old song, an old dance that they do, built on sarcasm and quips and hiding all the feelings underneath. But Techno just looks at him again, looks at him like he’s a puzzle, like he’s something to be figured out, like he’s something unexpected, and Wilbur hates it. Hates being under a microscope, scrutinized, and Techno is only one person, but he feels for all the world as though there are people all around him, looking at him, whispering, like he’s on display, stuck in a glass cage for everyone to point at—

“I, uh,” Techno says, “really, that thing about Ghostbur? I was just wonderin’. It’s not that I’m not happy to see you, Wilbur, honestly. I just… wasn’t expecting it. Phil said that the whole resurrection thing, uh... didn’t pan out.”

… Right. That’s a thing that happened. Ghostbur and his stupid determination, his stupid insistence that the server needed him back, needed him alive, and Wilbur wishes he could take Ghostbur by the collar of his sweater and shout at him until he got it through his head that Wilbur alive is the absolute last thing anyone needs.

“Yeah, that’s not why I’m here,” he says, and—Techno is still holding him, and it’s weird, and he doesn’t like it. His stomach is doing flips. It’s too much, and it’s especially too much coming from Technoblade of all people, because sustained contact has never been how Techno shows affection, or much of anything else, for that matter, and the fact that he’s doing it now is throwing Wilbur off balance.

So he steps away, further into the house, and it seems that this is finally enough for Techno to get the hint. His hands slip from his arms, and Wilbur pretends that he doesn’t feel very cold all of a sudden, a cold that’s different from the snow and ice of outside, a cold that starts inside and works its way out, and—

“Then why are you here?” Techno asks, and a smile pulls at Wilbur’s lips, twisted and not at all happy.

“Ask Tommy,” he replies. “Or better yet, ask Dream.”

“Dream’s in prison,” Techno shoots back. “You’re telling me he did something from a jail cell?”

“What, Tommy didn’t tell you? It’s the whole reason they kept him alive. To bring me back. Not that anyone bothered to consult me about it, but there you go.”

It’s interesting, watching Techno’s face. He has never been outwardly expressive, has always presented a mask of stoicism to the world, but Wilbur knows him, knows what to look for, knows that the slight tightening around his eyes conveys anger, that the flick of his ears indicates discomfort, and a lot of it. What could be causing that, he wonders, feeling a grim sort of amusement. Is it the fact that Dream is alive? Or the fact that he is?

(which would he like it to be? he doesn’t know. part of him wants Technoblade to be put off by him, he thinks. it proves that things are different. that things have changed from their shared childhood. that his experiences meant something, that they mattered, that they are remembered, that he has a reason to be the way that he is)

“Tommy hasn’t been telling me much of anything, lately,” Techno says, and Wilbur only just manages to pick up on the fact that his voice is too even, too monotone, even for him. “We’re not exactly on speaking terms.” He pauses, maybe waiting for Wilbur to say something, maybe not, but after a moment, he says, “You want a drink or somethin’?”

“That would be nice,” he admits. His shivering has begin to abate, but his clothes are still very damp, and they’re not doing anything to warm him up. He should probably ask for a change, but something in him balks at the idea. He doesn’t want to ask Technoblade for favors. Doesn’t want to owe him anything. He’ll take what’s offered, but that’s all.

“Cool,” Techno says. “I’ll get on that.”

They stare at each other. Nobody moves.

“Right,” Techno says. “I’m just gonna… walk past you here.”

Wilbur steps to the side, letting Techno pass him. He’s close enough to touch, close enough to brush up against him if he were just a few inches to the left,

(and something in him is screaming for it, is longing for a gentle touch, for a touch that doesn’t mean pain and doesn’t mean war and isn’t weighted with a thousand betrayals, but he doesn’t know that he can find that here, so much blood is on the floor between them)

but he doesn’t, and Techno disappears from sight. A moment later, there is a clatter, and the sound of cabinets opening and closing. Wilbur stands there for a moment longer, and then takes it as his cue to make himself comfortable.

Not too comfortable, of course. But he sits on Techno’s couch and peels off his coat, and he immediately feels warmer as the air hits his bare arms. He stares at them for a moment, pale and unmarked, and it feels wrong, that they shouldn’t be scarred. He can’t remember if he ever took wounds there, but he’s sure he did at some point, somewhere between the declaration of war and the battles and the explosions and the exile,

(because respawn brings people back, but it doesn’t erase what happened, not completely, and it’s always a tossup as to what will remain, what will linger on as a reminder)

and frankly, he feels like the ripped and torn state of his soul should show externally somewhere.

He breathes out, long and slow, and listens to Techno banging around his kitchen. He braces his forearms against his legs, clasping his hands together and lowering his head.

It might have been a mistake, coming here. He’s not sure what he expected to find, but it wasn’t quite this, wasn’t quite a once-brother who seems to have no idea what to do with him, wasn’t quite conversation that is awkward and stilted and strange because neither of them knows the other anymore, haven’t since the festival, or perhaps since they reunited in Pogtopia, or perhaps since he and Tommy left home, or perhaps since Techno did, or perhaps they never knew each other at all, not really, and they were only playing house all that time.

(that can’t be true, he knows, because he remembers the days when Techno taught him how to fight and he taught him basic guitar chords, remembers the days when he bandaged Tommy’s scrapes and bruises and knew in turn that his little brother would do anything to defend him, remembers the days when the warmth and comfort of Phil’s wings were only a step and a heartbeat away, and they were happy, they were, they were)

Absently, he brings one hand up to touch his chest. He thinks he’s searching for his heartbeat, searching for a bit of reassurance, a bit of stability, but that’s not what he gets. He can feel it even through his shirt, a knot of gnarled scar tissue, thick and raised against the rest of his skin. He slips his hand under his shirt to better prod at it, to map out its edges, and it should hurt, probably, but it doesn’t. There’s not much sensation there at all, a numbness that speaks to nerve endings that didn’t quite heal right.

He knows what it is. He’s not surprised that he brought it back with him.

“Um,” Techno says, and he looks up. Techno is back, is standing in front of him with two steaming mugs, is openly fidgeting, obviously unnerved, and Wilbur might congratulate himself on it if the circumstances were any different. As it is, he takes his hand out from under his shirt and gives Techno a flat stare.

After a moment, Techno huffs and settles on the opposite end of the couch, offering him a mug. Wilbur accepts it, sniffs it, and the scent is familiar, but he can’t place it. He takes a small, cautious sip and almost spits it back out, and not because it scalds his tongue, though it does. He knows what it is as soon as the flavor hits his taste buds, and for a split second, he is overwhelmed by

(tea in his hands and more on the kettle, his father’s voice, low and soothing, and so much nostalgia that he chokes on it)

memories. It’s been so long since he had this. So very, very long.

“Phil left some behind last time he was here,” Techno says. Wilbur looks at him; he’s regarding him carefully, as if he thinks he’s going to—to do what? What does Techno think he’s going to do? Yell? Attack? Bolt? All of those have their attractions, but he sits there instead, his mouth burning with the remnants of the heat.

He doesn’t know what he’s going to say when he opens his mouth.

“I haven’t had this blend since before Tommy and I left home,” he says, the words spilling out without his permission. “It was… the day before, I think? Sometime that week, at least. Phil and I sat in the kitchen and drank tea together, and he told me—” He cuts himself off; that’s too personal. It hurts too much to think about, now.

(he looked into his eyes and said, I’m proud of you, Wilbur, and he tries not to think about it too much, because thinking about it too much means interposing that Phil’s face, calm and smiling and happy, over the face of the Phil that he saw next, tears streaking down his cheeks and his expression twisted in desperation and grief as Wilbur begged him to—stop don’t go there not right now)

“He’s got his own base now,” Techno says, “but he’s not too far away. He said he might stop by tonight. You wanna stick around for that?”

Wilbur goes cold.

He hadn’t really considered it, in all honesty, hadn’t given due thought to seeing Phil, even though he knew very well that he would at least be in the area. Faced with the possibility, he’s not sure what to do with it.

It’s not what he’s here for. That much is certain. He should try to keep from being distracted, probably. He needs to remember that he’s not here with Techno out of familial obligation, but rather out of a desire to find information, to better know what he is about to be walking into.

“Maybe,” he says. “We’ll see.” He takes another sip of his tea. Swallows. Gathers up all of his emotions, and locks them away in a box.

He’s never been too good at compartmentalizing. But he can do it. It’s necessary,

(when you’re not even twenty-five years old and leading your little brother into a war)

sometimes.

“I was hoping you could tell me what’s been going on lately,” he says. “I want to go see Tommy, but I don’t want to walk in without knowing anything.”

Techno snorts.

“I figured it’d be something like that,” he says frankly, and Wilbur’s not quite sure how to take that. “I don’t know why you think I know anything. I don’t exactly have many friends over there right now.”

“Anything is better than nothing,” he responds, quiet and serious, meeting Techno’s eyes. He doesn’t quite know what expression he’s making, but it must be enough to persuade Technoblade, because Techno lets out a sigh, rolling his eyes.

And he talks.

He’s not lying; he doesn’t know much about the state of the server as it is now. But he knows some things, and Wilbur is interested in hearing them. Is interested in hearing about what Techno knows about the final battle against Dream. Is interested in what happened before, and what has happened since—there doesn’t seem to be a lot in the second category, thankfully, so perhaps Tommy has been able to enjoy some peace for once. Wilbur’s about to waltz in and destroy it, of course, but at least he had it for a time.

The exhaustion hits when Techno begins to talk about some kind of egg. Egg government. Egg cult? Techno doesn’t seem to know which it is, and Wilbur can’t make heads or tails of it, and it is then that he realizes that his eyelids are drooping. Which is not good; he didn’t intend to fall asleep here, and frankly, he’s not convinced that it would be safe to do so.

(lie)

But his body refuses to listen to his rational mind, and his thoughts are growing fuzzier by the minute, Techno’s voice falling further and further away. Still talking about the egg. It must be an important egg.

And then, the voice stops. Blearily, Wilbur lifts his head. He hadn’t realized that he’d begun to nod off. Techno is looking at him, something that can’t be softness in his eyes, something that can’t be fondness, because that affection was spent a long time ago, somewhere between Pogtopia and what came afterward.

“You still with me?” Techno asks.

He frowns. “Of course,” he tries to say, but the words come out slurred, just enough that he has no hope of hiding it or excusing it. Sure enough, Techno just laughs. At him. Which is rude and annoying.

“Sure,” he agrees, his voice making it clear that he is not actually agreeing at all. Before Wilbur can protest, he reaches over and plucks the mug from his hands. “I’ve got some guest rooms. Do you want me to set you up?”

“‘M not staying,” he says. Because he’s not. He’s made that determination just now. He’s gotten the information he needs out of Technoblade, and it’s time to move on. He doesn’t want to stay here,

(in a comfortable bed, safe under his brother’s watch, safe for the first time in forever, safe, safe, safe)

that’s for sure.

“Okay,” Techno says, and Wilbur is finding it increasingly difficult to think—and this exhaustion has hit fast, and that better be all that it is, because he doesn’t have the time to be sick—but he is still well aware that he is being mocked. “I’m gonna get you a bed ready, how’s that?”

“No, fuck you,” he mutters, but Techno is already gone, walking upstairs, chuckling to himself. Wilbur glares after him, trying to set him on fire with the force of his gaze, but it doesn’t work, and he is left alone in the room, on the couch, and it seems that he’s not going anywhere tonight. Not unless he takes this opportunity to leave, to venture back out into the cold with nothing but a trenchcoat that hasn’t even finished drying from his first expedition, and—

And this couch is comfortable, actually. Perhaps he can give himself permission to relax. Just this once.

He lies down. Curls up. It’s warm like this. Nice. His mind starts to drift.

He is vaguely aware of Techno’s return, sort-of cognizant of the way he stands over him for a few minutes before muttering to himself, too quiet for Wilbur to bother to parse the words out. Then, there is something covering him, soft and warm, and he must be tired to the point of hallucinations if he truly believes that Techno has just—what, tucked him in? That’s ridiculous. But it’s a problem for the morning.

There is a flash of blue in the corner of his eye. But he’s too out of it to pay it any mind.

Wilbur lets himself sleep.

He wakes up once, to the sound of a door opening, to the sound of voices, two of them, quiet and familiar. He doesn’t know what they’re saying. He doesn’t care. He’s safe here. That’s what matters.

---------

As a note, I’m new to writing for this fandom, so while I don’t have a taglist for it yet, I’m happy to make one if anyone would like, so feel free to ask!

[lizacstuff]

Liza that 3rd fragman 👀 "if I was born a 100 times I'd fall in love with you everytime" Eda saying this is their last obstacle and nothing can separate them, serkan's "I'll be right back, close your eyes I'm here" If this isn't all a red flag for shits about to hit the fan then I don't know what is LOL (but also how cute to Edser look and them telling each other they love each other very much 😭😭😭)

That fragman is both the SWEETEST and the MOST OMINOUS thing I’ve ever seen. ALL AT ONCE.  

Friends... we’re gonna go through some things.  That being said, everything is going to be great. These writers have been solid so far, and I have faith they have come up with something really interesting to increase the longevity of this show. And I don’t know about you, but I’m prepared to go through some things if it means keeping Eda and Serkan for longer.  (I heart them)

This show is about Eda and Serkan and their love story, at it’s core it’s a comedy, it will all lead to happy things, but... yeah, buckle up! 

I have a lot of asks both about the fragman and last ep, so I’m going to answer a bunch under the cut. 

Anonymous said: The fandom theories about episode 28 have gotten so wild that I literally think the most shocking thing would be if they actually got married and were not separated (emotionally or physically). What if the earlier painful episodes were to make us believe that things couldn't possibly go right in 28 and it's a reverse psychology trick?

You could be right!  I like your thinking. I checked on twitter and I had to back away slowly. The juvenile temper tantrums were too much for me today.  

Look, I think it’s clear something big is coming. It has to, there has to be something that shakes up the show. Some of the theories are more upsetting and catastrophic than others, but the writers won’t do anything that dings either character or their love for one another.  Whatever happens will showcase the connection between these two and the chemistry between the actors, that’s the point of everything, and anything that does those things is gonna be a-okay with me. 

@jan31​ Hi Liza. Do you think we are going to see the wedding in 28 or they will leave it on a cliffhanger for next week. Lots of theories going round mainly cos of Neslihan saying new dimensions coming in episode 29, which could just mean married life etc. I have seen suggestions of memory loss, it's all a dream since episode one. I would personally love Eda to wake up like in episode one but for it to be a total turn around and she is the boss and Serkan the employee. Eda being robot yildiz appeals to me!!! I know it will never happen but leave me here with my dreams!!

I started the day at 90% sure they’ll be married in 28/29, but now I’m down to like 30% that they’ll get married in these episodes. I really, really want them to get married before whatever happens happens, because every scenario I can think of for this reset or starting again, seems like it would be better if they were married.  

However, the shooting spoilers from today, make me question that. Namely the videos where Hande appears to still be wearing the ring on her right hand. We shall see, that could be for many reasons. 

Honestly, though, I wouldn’t hate a memory loss storyline. Seeing one of them (and Serkan’s line in the trailer makes it seem like it might be him) lose their memory and have to fall in love all over again? There are worse fates for a shipper than getting to experience that all again but in a different way.  

Anonymous said: Your response to the fandom drama anon was so good, it's exactly how I feel. While I don't know what the old posts that were like are (that's shady as fuck) I did see all the other drama go down and wow. The actresses def need to stay in their lane and some of the fans, hoooo boy, it's obvious they're young based off their reactions alone. Had to unfollow some people once I realized what they were like. Also some of the IRL shipping reminded me of col*fer stuff, reading into everything and blowing it out of proportion (which then gets picked up by paps....). But you're right in that at least the show related drama is tame compared to OUAT. But still, people being too careless even while they know the paps see everything and harass Kerem and hande (omg did you see the video of hande the other day stopped in the van and she looked so overwhelmed 😔)

You’re referencing this post here about yesterday’s drama. 

Today Neslihan made it worse by addressing everything and claiming she didn’t like all those Hande-bashing posts because... wait for it... she was HACKED. Oy. Hackers got in and went back two years to like gross posts about Hande? Sure, Jan. While I don’t believe that for a second, I guess that at least gives her cover with Hande so they can all pretend it’s true and move on so it’s not awkward on set.  But, yikes, she needs to consult a publicist, she took a narrative that was circulating in certain circles in fandom and made sure all her followers were aware. Not very savvy. 

As for the paps coming after Hande, yes I did see her in the car, she did look overwhelmed. Back off vultures!!! That’s why I think Kerem sometimes throws himself to the wolves so that doesn’t happen. She always handles them like a pro, but you can tell she’d rather be anywhere else on earth than talking to them. 

The pap stuff is worse than I’ve seen before, they’re like vultures circling for any conjecture (sometimes made up out of thin air) they can turn into a question and blame fans. OUAT actors dealt with nothing like this. Also I can’t believe they never ask about the show. Like after last week? They could legit ask about the sex scene which probably would have given them some angle on the actors that they wanted, (especially since it was too hot for Turkish TV) but they let that pass them by, and instead asked the same questions about being together that they never answer. Dumbasses. They are not only awful people, they are awful at their jobs. 

In Van, the paps pay off crew members for info, they always know more than fans. Also I don’t remember stars of my shows getting this level of tabloid attention before. Except for on Riverdale, Lili and Cole generated that level of interest, and while I didn’t pay terribly close attention to them, I feel like they rarely talked to the paps, were just photographed. Also I don’t suspected the CW of calling the paps on them, but I suspect either the network or production company of sometimes calling them on Hande and Kerem. 

Anonymous said: Do you think it’s weird that they didn’t touch the kidnapping at all in either trailer? They might not have filmed it in time for the 1st one but certainly the 2nd. And I’m definitely not complaining about the ones we got because its like a fairytale but the kidnapping was the cliffhanger...? 🧐 I think they should’ve just left the princes storyline at “he went back to his country” but then they didn’t so......

If they’d left his story at just going back to his country, then the Prince really wouldn’t have served his purpose. He was brought on to cause some sort of trouble, so they probably need him to cause the trouble before he goes, lets hope it ends with this kidnapping!

And to answer your question, yes, I do think it’s weird that neither trailer touched on it. On any other show I’d think it was a huge red flag, but on this show maybe not as much because  a) there’s obviously a lot of romance in this episode, it’s not crazy that they are focusing on that to draw people in with the promos  b) this show likes to do cliffhangers that end up being no big deal, that happens a lot.  

Who knows it could turn out to be a big deal that shapes the rest of the episode in some unexpected way (Eda’s captured the whole episode and she’s dreaming about wedding prep, or... who knows) but I think it’s more likely that they resolve in the first 5-10 minutes and then move on.  Since we know from the summary (not that I trust those) that Serkan goes on the bachelor weekend, it feels like the Prince is taken care of prior to that. I don’t think he’d leave her alone for a second if there was a chance the Prince was still a threat. Perhaps Babaanne is pissed he tried to kidnap Eda and tells them she’ll handle it herself???

Anonymous said: Semiha not being in the promo is highkey suspicious. The actress is promoting the episode lol. She's about to Evil Queen this wedding ceremony but you know what, I'm fine with whatever she has planned if they end up married at the end of the day. What's funny is that since a lot of fans these days will assume that there will be shocking negative plot twists, not actually having one here would be a plot twist so I hope the writers keep them together for whatever's next haha

You’re not wrong, at this point, having this wedding take place would be a shocking twist for all of us!  As for Semiha... hmmm... it will be interesting to see what her reaction is to Eda being kidnapped by her pick of suitor. Serkan Bolat might be the son of the man indirectly responsible for her parents death, but he would never hurt her. Take note, Grandbag!  

Anonymous said: Do you mind sharing your speculative scenarios?

After the trailer today, I don’t know if I can even remember some of them. 

Memory loss

Grandma forces Serkan to choose between Eda and his company/wealth,  he chooses Eda and they start over from scratch with nothing

Time jump

AU starting over, showing a different path they might have taken together

Dream

These actors playing different characters in a new story

I don’t think the last three are likely, but they did spring to mind after some of Neslihan’s teases. 

Anonymous said: So this show doesn't get like fantastic ratings (it actually seems to be on the lower end compared to all other dizis airing) but the social media engagement is off the charts. Why is that?!? Is the show just extraordinarily popular internationally? or that this is a "shipping" show? I'm floored by the numbers - its like no other show/fandom is even trying

The ratings were terrific during the summer. But to your point, it has a huge fandom both in Turkey and internationally, but it’s worth noting that most of those charts you see where it beats every other show in every imaginable social metric is just for Turkey.  

It’s one of those lightning in a bottle situations where you get the right property and the right actors together at the right time and magic happens.  And, for sure, the number one reason is the shipping. Shipping drives fandom engagement, and a fantastic ship with a juicy, fun, tropey love story is what this show offers. It also offers up two extremely attractive, talented, likeable leads with off-the-charts chemistry (plus the added speculation about an off-camera relationship that has intrigued more than a few fans, tabloids and gossip sites and fueled interest) who have done a good job of building the fanbase through their social media engagement. Plus the timing is part of it as well. I don’t know about you, but this show hit the spot during this pandemic and the horror of 2020. We all needed this escape. 

Anonymous said:Do you think something happened in the writers room after the backlash of 25 and fan disappointment after Ayse's announcement? I feel like a switch flipped and now we're in fanficland with how much good content we've gotten in these last two episodes. Like I thought maybe they should wrap up the series soon before the characters got completely off the tracks but they may be finding their groove now and I'm interested to see what their next twist is after they can write out Balca/Seymen.

I don’t know about a switch flip, this show has been fanfic land since the first episode!  The tropes! That is how I described it to multiple people when I first started watching: an AU fanfic come to life.

As for the writing changes, no, I don’t think backlash after 25 affected 26 or 27, because 26 was already 90% shot, and 27 already written. However, I assume they themselves could tell that 25 got just too dark and had strayed pretty far from the DNA of the series. While I didn’t think it was bad, it was not fun to watch and this show ought to be fun to watch. 

Let’s hope, however, that the backlash affects future episodes in that they know what works... and what doesn’t.  The last two episodes definitely felt reminiscent of the first batch of episodes. Light, funny, romantic. If they can keep that tone... I’ll be thrilled.

Anonymous said: i didn't realize how much i missed "together" edser until watching 27.. it's been so long since they were "officially" together and we also had such few episodes of it.. ppl have been comparing it to 12 and while in some ways i agree, edser are always so different here than they were there. 12 was them navigating their new relationship.. they were more shy and finding their footing.. here they are very much established, as they should be after knowing their love for so long in comparison to 12!

Yes, it was lovely. You know I’ve preached a lot about how even though Eda and Serkan were broken up, they’ve still been together all this time. And it’s true, but there is something about them truly being together that is magical. We never got enough of that the first time around (a writing mistake in my opinion) and they’re so good together it’s lovely to watch. 

Anonymous said: Serkan not asking for help from Balca when asking his team for help with the marriage gifts preparations and refusing her offer of help when she asked made me so happy. Good job Serkan! He's learning! She's not trustworthy!

Yes, that was a good moment. And he was eyeing her very warily when she offered. The thing I don’t understand is how has no one caught on that she’s working with Babaanne? That entire office is filled with nosy people, has no one remarked on the number of times Balca has gone up to the office or they’ve disappeared for lunch at the same time? Come on Leyla! Come on Melo! Notice these things!  

Anonymous said: Fingers crossed that we finally make progress towards getting rid of Seiman & Balca now that all the girls were drugged and Eda was put in the car in the last episode. Unless Seiman has a change of heart and takes Eda back inside before anyone wakes & the guys get there then the show has to address it. Although I do not think Balca is going to back down unless Serkan straight up tells her he has zero interest in her and never will. Totally fine if that happens in the next episode.

Will Balca backdown even if she’s humiliated like that? She’s so delusional I’m not sure. What I am sure is that she’s dangerous. This came in before we saw the other two fragmans that have no mention of the kidnapping. Hard to picture how that is so easily resolved. Unless she frees herself (which seems unlikely in her groggy state) or maybe Melo’s future boyfriend is able to stop it before they get far?  Or I don’t know. I just know that I want to see Serkan lose his mind and all the other characters see Serkan lose his mind and then I want it to be over. LOL.

Anonymous said: As much as I am loving everything Edser, I cannot wait for Seiman, Balca and Grandma to be gone. And I am even more annoyed to think that the show might try to redeem all 3 characters. All 3 of them are truly awful people and no need to waste air time trying to make the audience think any different. Just my opinion...🤷🏻‍♀️. Show please finally expose those 3 for the psychos they are and get rid of them.

Bye bitches!  I don’t think there’s any redemption for Balca and Seiman. They both have poisoned/dosed people, hard to come back from that.  And there is no need to redeem them because neither is compelling enough to be a long-term character. But maybe Granny, we probably will see a redemption arc for her. 

Anonymous said: i know you were worried a few weeks ago that with ayse leaving as writer, we probably wouldn't have the same sort of comedy as previous episodes... but istg the whole kiz isteme scene, especially with chef alex, had me almost crying with laughter. especially when serkan off the cuff just goes "well if that's an option..." to everyone misunderstanding alex "wanting" ayfer for 2 nights and then eda ready to beat him with the flowers he bought her... comedic gold lmao.

SO GOOD! I was thrilled to see that sort of comedy, the sort of comedy we’d come to expect, from these writers. I think it bodes very well indeed!  

That scene was amazing. I know Neslihan said that much of it was improvised. Probably that line from Serkan (since Serkan is SO out-of-his-mind in love I’m not sure he could even joke about having Eda only two nights a week! LOL) was improv from Kerem, and Aydan asking about the other nights, and Seyfi bringing up the weekend. And Eda’s very Hande-esque “Ser-KAN.” 

I just love rewatching that scene and checking out everyone who is breaking character and just losing it. Cagri most of all. He’s blurred aback there but you can see Ferit spends the whole time laughing or trying to stifle a laugh. Reminds me of Cagri in the scene in 18 when they’re watching the security footage he was losing it in that scene as well. 

Anonymous said: i'm scared - I think they are really about to give us all of these happy EdSer scenes only to have something happen RIGHT before the wedding ceremony due to Babaanne. Based on the last episode, I don't think there's any chance of a breakup (knock on wood) but what if Serkan gets arrested, goes to jail for 2 years, and we get a time jump?

This was sent before the last two teasers, so yes I think something is gonna happen. We shall see!  I don’t really think Serkan going to jail for 2 years is in the cards, at least I hope not!  Besides if Babaanne did that she would have no hopes of ever reconciling with Eda, so that seems unlikely she’d follow through and leave him there for so long a time. 

Anonymous said: With the last week's sex scene, they did a lot of fade outs but the scene was basically still there so it wasn't much wasted effort for the actors. But for what they're teasing in episode 28 - idk how they can get away with showing them in the shower at all if Serkan lifting Eda with her clothes on had required blurring? Is Eda dropping her robe even pushing it? It's intriguing indeed.

Great questions. We’re 36 hours from finding out (well I'm longer than that because I wait for the English subs, hee hee) All I know is I want to see these scenes.. one way or another! 

[clolikescloquetas]

THINGS I HOPE TO SEE (OR NOT) IN ACOTAR4

Nesta NOT STAYING AT THE ILLYRIANS MOUNTAINS for long, and travelling to other courts or the continent instead so she sees the world just like she wanted to do before the war. I think sending her away to a cold mountain surrounded by misogynistic warriors who hate her and are scared of her was a stupid af decision. Especially when it's a war camp and war triggers her PTSD. Oh and let's not forget there's a revolution about to take place. I see it as a very forced way of the narrative to make cassian and nesta interact. I understand an unexpected turn of events was needed as a beginning for acotar4, but going to the mountains shouldn't be anything more than a beginning that quickly leads us to another location. We've been told many times that nesta is "illyrian at heart" but I don't buy it. She isn't such thing, and her character is way too complex and interesting and has too much potential to just make her fit into a culture she doesn't belong to and has nothing in common with (it's stupid to think a place that reveres war and bloodshed will help her heal).

Besides, after all the places the previous books introduced I think it would be boring to stick to the same court. I loved Velaris but now that Feyre's story has ended it's time to move on. Not to mention that the Night Court is the worst place for Nesta, it reminds her of all her trauma and its high lord is a male she despises. Nesta needs to go somewhere else where she can recover her spirit and independence, and be free of the commands of a male that gives her orders as if she were her subject (she is not).

Hopefully, knowing how much sjm loves plot twists and given how she's already told us where nesta is supposed to go, it won't stay like that for long.

NO TRAINING. Maybe learning self defense techniques but that's as far as I'll go. No training to turn her into an almighty warrior. Nesta has power from literally the mightiest magic device in the world, and you're telling me getting beat on a ring will empower her?? Even when she's previously stated her refusal to train and said fighting isn't the only thing that makes someone strong?? And we're talking about Nesta, whose powers make her lethal. Making Nesta train would butcher her character and istg if they pull the "fighting helps her go back to her old self and empowers her" I will lose it. Enough with making that troupe work for everyone. We've seen it before and it has worked out well for other character, but in this case it wouldn't feel right and would be boring af.

I've seen a few people say they want Nesta to command the Illyrians, and help with the whole misogynist issue they have, or that she should do the Blood Rite I don't know if the name is correct, I don't remember it to gain the respect of the warriors. How should I put this: NO. This is more of the "Nesta is Illyrian at heart" bullshit Rhysass likes to pull, when what he actually means is that she is proud and stubborn. She, and I can't stress this enough, is not Illyrian. She shouldn't be participating in traditions she doesn't understand and doesn't engage in (she doesn't want to learn how to fight for fuck's sake) and we certainly don't need nesta to pull a white saviour behavior. I don't want her to come and solve a centuries old problem of a culture she doesn't belong to. And I don't see how she could do that in a credible way either, given how they all are terrified and wary of her. This also applies to the rioting issue that is looming over the illyrian camps.

Nesta healing and improving her mental health with cassian at her side to support her, without making him the reason why she gets better. And showing the effects war has on a veteran as Cassian too.

Someone, preferably Nesta, calling out Feyre, Rhysass and the rest of the IC on their shitty behavior and actions, and the narrative finally acknowledging their mistakes and portraying them as the deeply flawed characters they are. Now that we don't have Feyre's POV anymore there are no excuses for condoning their shit.

Cassian realising he has judged, ignored and said cruel things (like he doesn't know why her sisters love her are u kidding me) to Nesta and how he hasn't stood up for her before his friends. Oh and how he ignores her when Mor is present. I'm a sucker for nessian, but before they are a thing, he should apologize. I don't like how he treats nesta poorly and then expects her to love him, when she doesn't owe him shit. It's selfish of him to expect her to fit into his family even when they all hate her. I hope acotar4 handles well these issues. And I can't wait too read Nesta's POV and know why she didn't want to be close to Cassian after the war.

Nesta making new friends on her own, people who respect her and love her. I love nessian but I don't want their relationship to be the only deep interaction and relationship Nesta has. I would LOVE to see her and lucien become best friends (they were supposed to be lovers after all, and although a romantic relationship has been dismissed I'm sure their friendship dynamic would be amazing), or get acquainted with Helion or even Azriel. She needs to meet new people, and preferably not from the night court.

We've read many times how Nesta's powers are described as great and terrible. The source of her power is the fucking cauldron, used to create the world. Even tho no one knows yet what those powers are exactly, she has used them to turn hundreds of soldiers to ashes and even the bone carver, a death GOD, has spoken of the way the earth trembled at her power when Nesta was made. I want these powers to be a huuge part of the plot in this book. I want Nesta to master them fully, and for us to see the process. I don't know if I'm the only one who thinks like this, but when Feyre discovered she had powers from all the high lords, it seemed to me that she mastered them too quickly. I was hoping to get more attention on that issue, but it got dismissed quite quickly. Now that it's Nesta's time, I want the book to fully focus on these powers. Oh, and what I want the most is my baby to become the most powerful creature in the continent. More mighty than Rhysass and the other high lords by far. You can't give us a whole book preaching how nesta is really powerful, and how she took something from the cauldron that made the earth tremble, and then turn her into a common witch or something similar. I mean you can't expect me to believe the high lords have more power than the cauldron.

Although I find that to be another plot hole, bc the cauldron was supposed to be almighty but then Rhys and Feyre restored it when it broke?? Does that mean they are more powerfull than the object that created their world?? If that is so, they why didn't they win against hybern sooner??

Anyways, I want Nesta to never have to bow to anyone. Ever.

Well that is what I'd like to see in the next book. Which, based on the information we have, is basically the opposite of what will happen. As far as we know, sjm said there would be a lot of training in this book (I assume she was talking about Nesta) so there goes the chance of her not been a warrior. We know she'll go to Illyria, and although it's my hope she leaves soon or that she never goes in the first place, I know that's not what's going to happen.

And then there's the sex. Sjm said she had to delete some of the sex scenes bc her editor said they were too much and unnecessary. Which means there are still plenty of sex scenes in the books, as sjm confirmed. Don't get me wrong, smut is fine if handled correctly. But I don't think it will he handled correctly.

In fact, I think acotar4 will be placed on illyria the whole book or at least a huge part of it, and that we'll have lots of unnecessary and meaningless sex scenes inside of Cassian's cabin in the mountains instead of a well written and interesting plot, a well developed and complex relationship between the characters and a well handled depiction of PTSD and trauma healing.

In my mind it'll go like this:

Nesta arrives in the mountains. She and cassian are mean to each other for a while and the sexual tension is pretty obvious between them. Nesta starts training. At the beginning she hates it but over time she ends up loving it and excelling. Sex. Nesta makes a few friends between the illyrian female warriors she trains with, whose characters are shallow and totally secondary. Sex. More sex. Maybe something about Nesta's powers. A scene where cassian and nesta have an openhearted conversation about their relationship. Cassian never acknowledges how he treated Nesta, but she will apologise to him for how she kept him away. This leads to more sex. Nesta makes up with feyre, and apologies to her for being mean or whatever sjm comes up with. Feyre doesn't apologize back, or it's a shitty apologize for sure. Sex. Nesta stablish a cordial although cold relationship with Rhysass and Mor bc apparently she and Az are not destined to interact (even tho Az would totally oppose Nesta's situation of being sent to the illyrian camps). Sex. Nesta does the Rite. Sex. Sex. Something about the illyrian rebels. Cassian gets hurt. Nesta goes feral and gets a hold on the illyrian people. They respect her and answer to her now. Sex.

Or something along these lines. Oh and I have the impression sjm loves her main characters too much to write any scene showing how the decisions, actions or behaviour regarding Nesta of Feyre and Rhys were wrong. Acknowledging this could make it seem like they are flawed people like the rest, and apparently that's not possible.

I pray to be proved wrong once the book is released. Only time will tell.

[that-bi-bitch-writes]

The Rumor Around Hogwarts (Ch.3)

Chapter Three: Hello Stranger

Male reader insert for now, future addition of they pronouns as it will lean more towards a non-binary insert with the only change being less reference to Y/N as a young boy and more gender neutral terms. Still masc/male aligned. 

No real warnings for now except canonical mentions of neglect

This chapter is a little over 1.5k words. A lot of it comes directly from the book but if you want to skim/skip that part there is a huge space and a line where it starts and ends.

Not really proofread but I hope you Enjoy!!

To say [Name] was excited to go to Diagon Alley would be the understatement of the century. Somehow he had found out exactly when the majority of new wizards would be buying new supplies for their first years. Of course, with his mom being who she was, he’d missed it, but something deep within told him today was the day he needed to be there. 

‘The universe and mom conspiring. Plausible’ he thought aloud

“Mom! Hurry up or I’m taking your purse with me to Diagon Alley. All by myself.”

“I’m coming, Haven’t I apologized enough? You’ll get there when you need to be.” she said as she entered the kitchen. She grabbed a piece of toast from the house elf, grabbed her purse and approached him waiting near the front door. With a smirk she started “besides, it’s all part of the universe’s grand plans, isn’t that right darling?” 

Though [Name] loved his mom she sure could be a little shit. It’s why she was the perfect “master” for his house elf. Apparently the elf belonged to his father’s family and he refused to be let go. Believe me M/N tried many many times. But every time anyone mentioned freedom he would go berserk and the sight was unbearable to watch, so they’d just decided to keep him for the time being. [Name]’s mother set a rule though, if the elf were to stay he could not refuse help with any of the chores and could not punish himself. 

Compromise was one of the hardest things for everyone in the house. ‘My way or the highway’ was an unspoken family motto. And though he was a mean and stubborn houself, he was a part of the family. But that doesn’t mean he had to be nice to him

“Goodbye midget” [Name] yelled over his shoulder, earning a scowl and some mutterings

“Why do you do that” his mom asked casually “it’s not that different from his actual name, so why not just call him by his real name”

“Because he hates it” [Name] responded “and why am I getting a lecture from you. The queen of passive aggressiveness towards him. You forget I can hear what you’re really thinking when you talk in that saccharine sweet voice of yours. Save it for someone who can’t read minds”

She huffed and nudged him to the car. “I can't wait until you start driving. Or apparating, whichever you choose first. As much as I love doing some things the muggle way, I’ll never get used to traffic.”

[Name] picked up some dirt and tossed it to the ground with a loud and clear “Diagon Alley” before getting in the passenger's seat. M/N laughed at him and poked his side before starting the car. 

“I can’t believe my baby is starting Hogwarts.” She sighed out. And turned on the radio before pulling out of the massive driveway.

The journey to Diagon Alley was not very exciting for [Name] but for Harry it was a life changing experience.

____________________________________________________________

Harry woke early the next morning. Although he could tell it was daylight, he kept his eyes shut tight. 

“It was a dream” he told himself firmly “I dreamed a giant called Hagrid came to tell me I was going to a school for wizards. When I open my eyes I’ll be at home in my cupboard.”

There was suddenly a tapping noise. And there’s Aunt Petunia knocking on the door. Harry thought, his heart sinking. But he still didn’t open his eyes. It had been such a good dream. 

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“All right,”Harry mumbled “I’m getting up”

He sat up and Hagrid’s heavy coat fell off him. The hut was full of sunlight, the storm was over, Hagrid himself was asleep on the collapsed sofa, and there was an owl rapping its claw on the window, a newspaper held in its beak.

Harry scrambled to his feet, so happy he felt as though a large balloon was swelling inside him. He went straight to the window and jerked it open. The owl swooped in and dropped the newspaper on top of Hagrid, who didn’t wake up. The owl then fluttered onto the floor and began to attack Hagrid’s coat.

“Don’t do that.”

Harry tried to wave the owl out of the way, but it snapped it’s beak fiercely at him and carried on savaging the coat.

“Hagrid!” said Harry loudly “There’s an owl-”

“Pay him,” Hagrid into the sofa.

Harry counted out five little bronze coins, and the owl held his leg so Harry could put the money into a small leather pouch tied to it. Then he flew off through the open window.

Hagrid yawned loudly, sat up and stretched. “Best be off, Harry, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London and buy all yer stuff for school.”

Harry was turning over the wizard coins and looking at them.He had just thought of something that made him feel as though the happy balloon inside him had got a puncture.

“Um - Hagrid?”

Mm?” said Hagrid who was pulling on his huge boots.

“I haven’t got any money - and you heard Uncle Vernon last night … he won’t pay for me to go and learn magic”

“Don’t worry about that,” said hagrid, standing up and scratching his head. “D’yeh think yer parents didn’t leave yeh anything?”

“But if their house was destroyed-”

“They didn’t keep their gold in the house, boy! Nah, first stop fer us is Gringotts. Wizards’ bank. Have a sausage, they’re not bad cold- an’ I wouldn’t say no teh a bit o’ yer birthday cake either”

____________________________________________________________

A boat and train ride later, Harry and Hagrid had arrived in London and made it to the Leaky Cauldron, where Harry was recognized by everyone in the pub. Including a stuttering Professor Quirrell who introduced himself as Harry’s Defense Against the Dark Arts (DADA for short) professor in the upcoming term.

Gringotts was the next stop and it was a particularly interesting event for Harry. The boy who had grown up on scraps from the Dursleys and hand me down clothing was shocked to see so much money in his name. The goblins were obviously a new experience. Then there was Hagrid’s secret mission from Dumbledore.

After parting with Hagrid, Harry had entered Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions alone and nervous. The situation was not remedied by a pale faced blond in the back of the shop who spoke pompously and reminded Harry of Dudley. His casual mentioning of wizarding culture left Harry feeling stupid. When the pale boy had begun talking bad about Hagrid, Harry knew he wouldn’t like the boy and could offer nothing particularly interesting to the conversation.

A lot of questions and shopping later, Harry had to get his wand. Truth be told, this was the part that Harry had been anticipating the most. Entering the shop which read Ollivatders: Makers of Fine wands since 382 B.C, Harry began to be a little overwhelmed and swallowed any questions he might’ve had.

The man seemed to know whom he was and asked Harry a series of questions to find the perfect wand for him. There were a lot of trials and errors, swishes and flicks, and damage done to Ollivander’s shop. Until finally the right wand was found. And it was a little… curious.

“It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother- why, its brother gave you that scar.”

“Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember. … I think we must expect great things from you, Mr Potter. … After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things - terrible, ye but great”

“And you’ll get them.” All eyes snapped towards the unexpected voice “the great things.” 

“I believe you’re right Mr [Last Name].”

Somehow in all the chaos, neither Ollivander nor Harry had noticed [Name] was in the shop the whole time. He’d already gotten his wand but when he recognized the boy from the zoo he wanted to catch up.

Noticing Harry’s uncomfortability with the subject of Voldemort, [Name] had started up a totally different conversation while escorting Harry out of the shop.

“Fancy meeting you here. I guess the universe was actually looking out for me. I’m [Full Name] by the way. Nice to meet you Harry Potter”

“Nice to finally put a name to your face. I’m not sure what you meant by the universe but I’m glad we got to meet again. I had no clue you were a wizard”

“... Are you like new to the wizarding world or something? I mean I’ve been raised going to muggle schools but even I would’ve figured out the boy who didn’t react to me doing magic was a wizard”

“It was unintentional”

“Still magic”

It was getting darker and both [Name] and Harry had to go soon. Harry was still a little glum from the conversation with Ollivander, but [Name]’s playful banter had brightened his mood. Harry needed more people like that. Like [Name] and Hagrid, who just saw him as Harry Potter, and not as the boy who lived. 

“Will I see at Hogwarts [name]?” Harry asked hopefully

“You bet. Find me on the train. Or rather, I’ll find you. Then maybe I’ll show you something cool I can do.” 

Now Harry had two things to look forward to. Hogwarts, and Hogwarts with [Name].

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 45 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Aiden’s jealousy worsened, and Bianca invited Courtney to lunch.

This Chapter: Courtney, Adore and Violet all receive unexpected invitations.

***

It was kind of amazing. How Courtney could be sitting across from one of the most influential, powerful women in New York and feel so...well, comfortable. She knew that any sane person would feel horribly intimidated in this situation, but Bianca just kept on making her laugh so much, it was like she forgot to be nervous. Or...well, she wasn’t exactly not nervous, but it was a fluttery kind of excited nervous, curling pleasantly in her abdomen as they bantered back and forth.

“So...what class are you taking later?” Bianca asked, stirring her latte.

“It’s a street jazz class at BDC,” Courtney replied.

“BDC?” Bianca raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, it stands for Broadway Dance Cen-”

“Yeah, I know what BDC is, I’m not a moron,” Bianca interrupted, and Courtney bit back a laugh, finding her abrasive style somehow endearing. “I just didn’t realize you were a dancer.”

“Oh. I’m not really. I just uh...want to get into music. Eventually. Like, pop music. When I got to New York, I went on a bunch of auditions, and I realized that my dance background was nowhere near strong enough to be competitive-” Courtney stopped abruptly. Was she saying too much? As nice as Bianca was, she was also one of Fame’s best friends.

Bianca didn’t seem concerned though, simply listening, nodding, a soft smile on her face. She really was so beautiful. Courtney’s heart hammered a bit faster.

“Do you mind...um...not telling Miss Fame about that? I don’t want her to think I’m not committed. I just, feel like she’d disapprove, and I really need that job, so-”

“Your secret’s safe with me.” Bianca’s smile deepened, dark eyes shining.

“Thanks.” Courtney smiled back as the waitress set down their food, relieved.

“So how’d you end up at Galactica, anyway? It’s not exactly a direct path from there to being a pop star.”

“Uh, it’s kind of a long story. I was applying for like, any job that would let me stay in the country, and when I saw the opening with Miss Fame, I was thrilled. And then Adore and I were at this club, and we ran into Violet, and...I guess she kind of put in a good word for me.”

“Huh. I wouldn’t have expected that,” Bianca mused.

“Why not?”

“Well, it’s just… Violet’s always seemed a bit...uptight as fuck?”

Courtney had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing out loud, explaining, “She takes her work very seriously.”

“Oh yeah?” One of Bianca’s brows raised a little, challenging. “Do you?”

“Of course! I’m so lucky to have that job, a million girls would kill to be in my shoes. And Miss Fame, you know, she’s a great boss.” Courtney blinked at Bianca, watching her muffle a laugh with her hand. “What?”

“No, nothing. You’re just cute when you lie.”

That fluttery feeling was back in Courtney’s belly, stronger than ever, as she insisted, “I’m not lying! She’s great! You’re her best friend, you should know-”

“Exactly. I’m her best friend. That’s how I know you’re lying.” Bianca bit down on a sweet potato fry, eyes twinkling.

“Okay, maybe she’s a little…”

“Yes?”

“Well, she’s not the easiest boss, or the most predictable, but that doesn’t mean she’s not a good one.” Courtney crossed her arms, a pretend little pout on her lips.

“Fair enough.”

And with that particular landmine safely side-stepped, Courtney let out a relieved sigh.

“Hey, uh, here’s a question. Do you have any Thanksgiving plans? I know you’re not American, so-”

“Really, what gave that away?” Courtney asked, lashes fluttering.

“Lucky guess,” Bianca laughed. “Anyway, Adore and I usually go home to New Orleans. But my sister Liz is going through a divorce and she’s apparently just an absolute cunt to anyone who dares even look at her. So we decided to stay in town and avoid that nightmare altogether.”

“That’s nice. Very supportive.”

“Hey, I’m paying for her attorney,” Bianca defended herself, and Courtney laughed. Of course she was paying for her sister’s divorce attorney; she was quickly proving to be one of the most generous people Courtney’d ever met. “But yeah, so...would you have any interest in joining us?”

“Really?”

“Sure. I know Adore would love to have you there,” Bianca said quickly, and after a moment of hesitation, added, “And hey, I’d like to encourage her to hang out with people who read. So, you know, win win.”

Courtney bit her lip, Bianca’s sarcastic deflection as she folded up a napkin in her hands making the whole thing painfully cute.

“No pressure, I just, uh...wanted you to know you’re welcome.”

“I would love to,” Courtney said, feeling a bit overwhelmed at the invite, knowing that this was a holiday people spent with family. “I should warn you though, I just went vegan.”

“Oh shit, invite rescinded.”

Courtney giggled, twirling a lock of her hair. “I know, I've already lost 3 friends over it. And I think I’m on very thin ice with Adore. Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s no big deal. I actually eat a lot of vegan food, even tried it myself for a few years,” Bianca said. “I am a lesbian, after all.”

Courtney leaned forward, intrigued. “Is that like a thing?”

“Oh yeah,” Bianca nodded.

“Why do you think that is?” Courtney asked, lifting her glass to her lips, trying to find the straw without looking.

Bianca thought for a moment and then said, “Well...part of it is probably just lefty-feminist politics. And then of course there’s the purely unscientific belief that a plant-based diet makes your pussy taste amazing.”

Courtney choked, spitting out some of her smoothie, cheeks flushing hotly.

A mischievous smile spread across Bianca’s face as she handed over some napkins. She looked both terribly amused and a bit proud of herself.

“Sorry,” Courtney sputtered, wiping up the mess. “I was...not prepared for that.”

“I hope I didn’t destroy your innocence,” Bianca said, voice soft and teasing.

“I’m not that fragile. I’ve been Adore’s best friend for 4 years, remember?” Courtney reminded her.

“Right.”

As Courtney set down the napkins, she looked up and caught Bianca’s eyes again, both of them breaking out into matching grins. She couldn’t quite explain the way her heart thumped faster every time they looked at each other--all she knew was that looking into Bianca’s warm brown eyes, she felt better than she had in months.

***

“Fame?”

Patrick toed his shoes off, resisting the urge to dump his tennis bag by the door. He played tennis every other Saturday morning, tennis and his occasional swims the only form of exercise he had ever found bearable, even though Fame had tried to get him turned into yoga more times than he could count.

Patrick waited for a second, either expecting his wife or his dog to come down to greet him, but neither happened, instead,  all he could hear was the faint sound of the TV.

“Fame? Darling?”

Patrick put his bag down, vowing to himself that he’d remember to come back and pick it up, before he made his way into their townhouse.

He found her in the living room. Fame was sitting on the couch in a silk robe, the TV on, the curtains drawn, Charles' head resting on her lap.

“Did you have fun?”

“We finished 5 sets.” Patrick smiled, Fame not actually asking how he had done at tennis, the rules of the game on the long list of things she didn’t care about, though she had shown up to watch him play, the shorts apparently making it worth it. He walked over to the couch, sitting down and leaning in to give his wife a kiss on the cheek, when he felt Fame’s hand on his face, blocking him.

“Don’t-” Fame turned her head, pulling herself away from her show as she looked at Patrick through her fingers. “I just had my skin done, and I refuse to let you mess up my microneedling.”

“Ah. Glad it’s not a chemical peel month.” Fame always looked absolutely insane after those, her skin flaking off. It was rather disgusting, and he tried not to be around for those, seeing your wife shed like a lizard weirdly enough rarely doing wonders for a sex life.

“Shut up.”

Patrick grinned, and Fame smiled as she pushed him back, Patrick settling in on the couch so Fame could snuggle up against him, her head resting on his shoulder. “And what are we watching?”

“Snapped.”

Patrick had to hide a snort, Fame absolutely devouring any and all true crime media. When she’d first gotten addicted to that particular show, all about women who murdered their partners, he’d wonder if she was trying to tell him something. Her response when he’d asked, “Keep asking questions like that and you’ll find out,” had made him burst out laughing, his wife’s sardonic, grisly sense of humor one of the things he loved the most about her, only coming out in rare instances but always a delightful surprise. Almost as surprising as her porcelain chicken collection.

“Your bag better not be flung anywhere.”

Ah.

Busted.

***

Katya hummed to herself as she was setting the table, a bottle of wine for Trixie and sparkling water for her chilling in the fridge.

Trixie was locked up in their bedroom, working away on the cost predictions for the Spring prêt-à-porter collection, sweating over numbers and doing everything he could to make sure everything was running smoothly.

He had promised her to come out for dinner, so Katya had arranged a surprise, a gigantic order of Chipotle on its way.

“Hey Katya?”

Katya looked up from where she had been folding the napkin, to see Pearl leaning against the doorframe, her arms crossed. She was wearing a pair of drop-crotch sweats and a sleeveless jersey tied up around her midriff, certainly not her typical going-out clothes. Was it possible that she was staying in? On a Saturday?

“Everything okay?”

Pearl gave a slow, unconvincing nod, walking forward a few steps.

“Are you sure about that?”

“How did you know that you wanted to be with Trixie forever?”

Katya paused, the napkin still in her hand as she considered Pearl’s question. Normally, she would have made a joke about Trixie’s luscious butt, but judging from Pearl’s face, this wasn’t the time.

“I honestly…still don’t know.”

“Please,” Pearl sat down heavily in one of the kitchen chairs. “I’m serious.”

“So am I,” Katya smiled. Pearl and Trixie had been friends for forever, but they didn’t become best friends until after Katya and Trixie had started dating, Pearl moving in with Trixie while she was in rehab for that final time. “I liked being single. I liked having little whirlwind romantic flings and then going back to starfishing across the bed when they were over.”

Pearl laughed, shaking her head, and Katya declared a small victory for making her crack a smile.

“If I’d been single forever, I’d have been perfectly fine.”

Maybe not perfectly fine, but Pearl didn’t need to know that, the things Katya had done before Trixie came into her life not really things she was particularly proud of.

“I liked being free.” Katya shrugged, trying it out.

“Mmmh?”

Bingo.

Katya hid a smirk, Pearl straightening up the moment freedom had been mentioned.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Pearl was struggling in her relationship with Adore, that her friend was probably freaking out about being with someone for any extended amount of time, since Katya had never seen Pearl do anything like what she doing now, long-term relationships not really the Liaison brand.

“But I met Trix, and I like him more than freedom. Or, well, that’s not really accurate. Actually…” Katya sat down beside Pearl. “The truth is, I feel my freest when I’m with him. Knowing that he’s in my corner. But I mean, knowing for sure? I just don’t think certainty is in my nature. Luckily, it’s in his. That’s why we’re a good team.”

“Yeah. That makes sense. You guys are a good team.” Pearl sighed.

“Do you feel like you guys are a good team?” Katya asked carefully.

“Sometimes. I mean...we’re a lot alike. Maybe too much alike. I dunno.” Pearl avoided Katya’s gaze.

“Here’s a question...are you happier with her, or without her?” Katya asked.

“I...don’t know.”

Katya reached for Pearl’s hand. “Pearl, listen. I like Adore, a lot actually. I think she’s sweet and beautiful and funny and she obviously cares about you so much. But I also think that stringing her along when you’re feeling like this...it’s not fair to either of you.”

“I just don’t want to give up so fast!” Pearl exclaimed. “I always do that. I promised myself that I would actually try this time.”

“Well, then maybe you just need to be reminded of why you got together in the first place.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Also...now I don’t want to sound like I’m preaching here,” Katya began.

“No, it’s fine. I asked for your opinion,” Pearl said.

“Well...in my experience...it’s really hard to maintain any kind of real relationship--friendship, romantic, whatever--if you prioritize your ego over the other person’s feelings.”

Pearl blinked at her for a few seconds, letting the comment sink in, before dropping her head to the table with a soft, “fuck…”

Katya chuckled and leaned forward to kiss the top of her head. “You’ll be alright.”

***

“Drink drink drink drink drink drink drink drink YEAHHHHHHH!” The girls cheered as Adore finished her beer and slammed the empty glass down on the table.

Adore laughed, wiping her mouth, looking around at the group. Originally, when Courtney had introduced her to these girls years ago as “my sorority sisters,” she was picturing stuck-up, prissy little spoiled brats, who would judge her and never accept her - the punk rock lesbian who walked around in bare feet and no bra most of the time.

She was pleasantly surprised when they ended up being fun, and mostly turned their Mean Girls Judgement on others, or each other. Somehow Adore became the untouchable and beloved mascot of the group, the cool, alternative one who gave them all street cred. Tyra loved her because they were both from the South, both from big families and both of them possessed deeply developed bullshit detectors. Tati enjoyed doing shots with her and wreaking havoc (and was good for a sloppy drunken makeout session at least a few times a year) and Morgan - well, Morgan was kind of a cunt, but in the very best way. It was part of her charm, and, as she explained it, part of her Scottish heritage.

This night out with her friends was exactly what she needed to take her mind off her current relationship drama. She’d only spoken to Pearl once since their fight the other day, and it was tense, Pearl claiming to be running into a meeting. After that, nothing. No messages, no calls--she still wasn’t 100% sure where things stood between them.

Adore turned to Courtney, who absentmindedly stirred her drink with a straw, staring into space. She’d already noticed a bit of a change in her mood from a week ago - there was definitely something lighter about her. Still, quiet wistfulness wasn’t her general M.O. in a club - usually she was the first one on the dance floor. Adore nudged her gently with a hip.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” Courtney turned to her with a little smile, green eyes soft.

“Are you having fun?”

“Of course! I always have fun with you,” she said, wrapping her arms around Adore’s waist and cuddling closer, laying a head on her shoulder.

Adore pressed the kiss to the top of her head before asking the other question on her mind, “So...um...what’s going on with you and my sister?”

Courtney’s head snapped up, eyes wide. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I heard you hung out today…and that you’re joining us for Thanksgiving?”

“Oh. Right. No, I just ran into her by chance.”

“Where the hell are you hanging out, where you run into someone like that?” Morgan asked. “The fuckin’ SoHo house?”

“It was a bookstore.”

“Ugh, smart bitch.”

“And like…she bought me lunch because she knows I’m poor,” Courtney explained, “and since you guys will be in town and I don’t have family here, she just asked if I wanted to come.”

“Oh yeah, no big deal,” Tyra cut in, “She just took you on a date and then invited you to a family holiday…”

“It wasn’t a date!” Courtney said, laughing. “It was really all just very casual. She was just being nice.”

“Being nice for no reason. Sounds like Bianca alright,” Adore said, one eyebrow raised, and Courtney giggled again, shrugging.

“Maybe she’s nicer than you think.”

“Listen, Courtney, I’m glad you’re gonna be there because I love you. But just...you know, my sister is very...uh…”

“Yeah?”

“No, she’s great. Like, she’s the best. But…” Adore trailed off, grabbing a shot from the round Morgan was setting on the table and tossing it back.

It felt weird to be having this conversation. Did she really need to warn Courtney about Bianca? After all, B had joked about hitting on her before but never actually done anything. And what would she even say? ‘My sister is very good at charming the pants off every girl who catches her attention--especially the blondes’? ‘Beware the dimples’? She was certain that Bianca would never make a move on someone who didn’t want it, so...why not just leave it alone?

“You know what? Nevermind. Whose phone is that?” Adore felt her pocket, realizing that the out of control buzzing was her own phone--hopefully not her sister being an impatient cunt about Courtney’s number.

PEARL: Hey. I’m sorry about how I acted on Thursday.

PEARL: And yesterday

PEARL: There’s a warehouse party in Brooklyn tomorrow

PEARL: At the navy yard. Wanna go?

PEARL: It’s right by Grimaldi’s…

PEARL: Best pizza in NY

PEARL: My treat

ADORE: So you like pizza again, huh?

PEARL: It’s my favorite ;)

ADORE: Lol, okay, I’m in. <3

Adore looked back up at her friends, grinning at the group. “Let’s go dance!”

***

Sutan wasn’t nervous.

He wasn’t, because that would be ridiculous.

Sutan took a sip of his coffee, watching people walk by the cafe he was sitting at. It was a surprisingly sunny Saturday for October, the air crisp and fresh. He had already waited for 20 minutes, Violet once again late, but Sutan had asked for a chocolate croissant with his first cup of coffee, his girlfriend's time management skills surprisingly terrible.

Sutan was planning to invite Violet to Aspen with him, Raja and Raven for their annual ski trip. It was a tradition of theirs, Raja and he owning a cabin together that they visited every year. He wasn’t a brilliant skier, but he liked the mountain air, the sense of freedom, and of being disconnected while out on the slopes.

He had thought about inviting Violet along for weeks, Raven needling him about whether or not Violet would be coming with him.

Sutan wanted Violet to join them. Wanted to see her all dressed up in winter wear, wanted to teach her how to ski and have drinks by the fire in the evening.

There was just the teeny tiny insignificant detail, that the last time he had asked someone to come with him and Raja to Aspen, it had been a terrible time.

He didn’t hate Kahmora, at least not any more, their divorce lasting longer than their marriage, but he still felt a sense of dread every time he visited L.A. - which was why he avoided the city as much as he could, Kahmora thankfully relocating once they severed ties.

Violet wasn’t Kahmora though, actually, they were as different as day and night.

“Hey.”

Sutan turned his head to see Violet come walking towards him, her coat closely around her, her new bag in hand, and Sutan was glad he had splurged for the largest model Dior made, the purse already stuffed.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” Violet pressed a kiss against his cheek, sliding in on the other side of the table, her dress brushing against him. “Have you eaten?”

“I was waiting for you.”

Violet didn’t need to know that he already finished a chocolate croissant, that sin between him and his trainer.

“Ah,” Violet looked guilty for a second, brushing a bit of her hair behind her ear, her earring of the day a tiny golden hook. “Sorry, I was at work and time just flew by-”

“Work?” Sutan twisted his wrist, taking a peek at his Rolex. “It’s 10:33 on a Saturday?”

“I went in at 6.” Violet picked the menu up, the fact that she tried to pretend that she wasn’t going to order avocado on rye kind of cute. “I know I have to turn my dress over to tailoring sooner or later-”

“But you want to finish as much as you can?” Sutan smiled, emptying his coffee cup. “Of course.”

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not,” Sutan held up his hands in defense. “Promise.” He couldn’t help but sneak a peek at Violet’s right hand, her fingertips thankfully not the raw red points he had helped wrap and put ice on. “It’s just very dedicated-”

“This is my first chance to get an actual piece on the runway. It has to be perfect-” Violet was cut off as the waiter came over, Sutan hiding a grin as she ordered avocado on rye, his second breakfast a plate of scrambled eggs and salmon.

“Speaking of perfect.” Sutan moved his chair while the waiter walked away, his stomach tied up in a knot. “I was wondering, if…”

“Yes?” Violet tilted her head, clearly listening, her brow eyes resting on his face.

“If you’d like...” Sutan had no idea why this was so hard, “to come to Aspen with Raja, Raven and I in January?”

“What?” Violet looked genuinely confused.

“Raja and I own a cabin, and-”

“Like, in Colorado? Like Aspen Aspen? Like posh skiing Aspen?”

“Yes?” Sutan lifted a brow. “Do you know any other Aspen?”

“No, but I-” Violet bit her lip, her white teeth sinking into it. “I don’t know how to ski?”

“Oh,” Sutan laughed, the admission not at all what he had expected. “Well, lovely eyes.” Sutan smiled. “I can promise you, that that is not a problem.”

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

True Faith (Part 2.) (Favored Ones, Part 26.)

Series description: Many things were surely fucked up in the year 2038, but no-one ever told anyone how all of it went down. What happened before a group of people left for Seattle to handle personal matters? Why did one girl refuse to leave all of it be? And why there were so many dead in the end?

Quote for the chapter: " Beware of no man more than of yourself; we carry our worst enemies within us. ." -  Charles Spurgeon

Part summary: To your disappointment, you didn't find Abby inside the aquarium. But you found someone else who reminded you of the things that happened back in Jackson.

A/N: This song (True Faith, Lotte Kestner’s cover) simply slaps and says all you need to know about this part in general. Hoooo, I am so excited to finally have Owen on my hands so I can do this disgusting rat dirty. (I LOVE miss Mel tho, she’s a precious small bean which needs to be protected)

Warnings: Depiction of torture, bone breaking, depiciton of blood and manslaughter, anxiety, rage, anger, a bit of fluff at the end.

Word count: 5.5 K

Tagging:   @nemodoren @xxgoldenhour @missdictatorme​​ @peakymarvels​​ @davnwillcome​ @pickleriiick​ @jodiereedus22​ @gladiosamicitias​ @tamkashi​ @eternallyvenus​ @avengerssstuff​ @fangirl-inthe-us​ @avery-miller​ @mikah-writes​ @mad-hatter-98​ @sadiaafrin99​ @flavorishy

Series master list: H E R E

Joel Miller’s playlist for the bonfire occasions: H E R E

Youtube playlists: JACKSON DAYS | SEATTLE DAYS

Seattle, day three - afternoon:

With a small gulp, you opened up the door, walking into the main hall of the aquarium - to the place from when the arguing voices were coming from. And two people were standing in front of you. Owen and Melanie. You didn't even care that much about Mel, to be honest, but you stared Owen down with one of the most haunting gazes he'd ever seen on anyone. The man took in the sight of you as well. Both the people in the room stiffened, watching the unexpected visitor bump into the aquarium door.

After a moment, Owen recognized you. Of course, he did. And to be honest, panic overtook him, because he didn't know what should he do as you still kept on coming closer to both of them. He had a pregnant woman next to him whom he had to protect. And just from your look alone, Owen knew, that one of you will end up dead that day. One of you won't ever walk out of the door again and honestly, he hoped it will be you. He had too much to lose at this point.

But Melanie stepped forward, closer to you, making the eye contact going on between you and the man end abruptly as you turned your head to her.

"You're the girl from Jackson, aren't you?" - The woman sent a glance to Owen as she took in your appearance, trying to assure him about her actions. She was always nice to you, right? She didn't mean you any harm. Mel even escaped your friends before crying out their location out loud. If she did yell at the others, Jesse, Dina, and Diego would be most likely to be dead. But she didn't. From her perspective, you hadn't got the slightest reason to harm her.

Yet Owen could tell that something happened to you ever since you entered Seattle. Everyone felt the shift once they entered the city gates. Something changed inside of you, something subtle and unnoticeable at first, bringing the worst out of you. If he'd have to describe the person he was looking at, he'd tell about that youre tired, barely standing on your feet and empty inside. Like a machine. Your clothes were just drenched in blood, but it certainly wasn't yours since you've been looking more than fucking healthy.

Most people thought that descending to madness is a slow process. No. It was far away from a slow one. The only thing you needed was a push and shove to your back, sending you on your fall. If you weren't able to stop, you were soon about to hit the bottom. He knew that he can play psychological games with you later, but it would just make you angry at that moment.

Melanie was thinking about a lot of things - no matter how immature her behavior seemed to be as she slowly approached you. Were you there, in the aquarium, alone, or were your friends somewhere out there as well? Why didn't Alice bark at you? And what, for the love of God, were you doing in Seattle?

After the Abby fiasco, where almost everyone from their group got killed, they ran away - back to WLF and Seattle. Mel got more and more pregnant, so she wanted to be safe and she wanted Owen around. There were still the Seraphites and Abby things popping up around their small family, but it finally seemed that Owen set his priorities straight on Mel and their child to come. Which, on its own, would be great - if you wouldn't just appear there out of the thin air, covered in blood and mud from your head to your toes, drenched with rainwater.

Your eyes didn't move away from Mel as you watched every move she made, having the rusty pipe ready at any moment. You were quite sure you'll get to know where Abby is residing since you already had the benefit of surprise and Joel was standing just behind the corner. Something was telling you that these two knew exactly where their friend is. No matter what, you were determined to get the information out of them.

Yet as you stood in front of Owen, something oddly personal got a hold on you. It was the odd personal feeling Ellie told you about after what happened with Nora. You knew why you were there - to find Abby and sort the things out with her. To protect Joel, to protect Jackson. But... As you watched the man standing in front of you, and when you remembered how he helped Abby with torturing you, there was still a small hint of pain next to your heart.

All you could do was to take a deep breath to shush the feelings aways. Owen, no matter how much of a fucker he could be, hadn't got any personal beef with Joel and as far as you cared, he wasn't shooting at you. So far, you hadn't got the reason to kill him like a little bitch. But for the first time on your journey, you felt, that all it will take for Owen to set the bomb inside you off was just one bad move or a word you wouldn't like. At that moment, Melanie started speaking again, diverting your attention from the man.

"How-how did you find us? Are you okay?" - The woman asked, almost putting a hand on your shoulder just for you to dodge the touch, growling at it. With that, Owen noticed that you're visibly limbing. The Jackson took hold on everyone who's been there - both WLFs and you. It seemed to be fucking ridiculous. What did happen to them there? What logic reason allowed Mel to think that they had the right to feel bad about Baldwin? You almost started to accept Mel's embracing tone of voice until you realized that she's just trying to divert your attention away from Owen. No. You weren't that dumb.

"Where is Abby?" - You asked once again and looked around, searching the woman as if you were expecting that she'd appear out of nowhere like a magician. You'd be most likely having her forearm around your throat if she'd be at the aquarium, about which you concluded that Abby sure as hell wasn't there. It was just getting more and more tangled up. But Owen was a good find as well. Neither of them answered, but the woman was sneaking closer and closer to you. - "I asked you a question. Where is she?" - You pointed your pipe at her, having Owen panic in the next second.

You didn't know she was pregnant. How could? No matter how much he tried to ignore it, he knew the state you were in. The trance, numbness, and fearlessness of sorts, which enabled you to feel invincible. But for a terrible cost. It was a piece of your soul it took down with it.

Naturally, Owen tried to take his gun out, having you to swing your pipe at his wrist at a full force as you pushed Melanie on her back to have a good view of them laying on their back vulnerably. There was this disgusting sound of cracking of the small bones inside of his forearm, which you caused, as you swung the metal onto his arm again when as Owen checked up on Melanie's well-being.

"Wanna try another unplanned stuff or is this enough, huh?" - You asked, leaning your head towards your shoulder as you looked down on Owen. Immediately, he looked back, his breath was shallow and fast, making you aware of the fact that he must've been in pain. As when Joel stood up above Melanie, aiming his revolver onto her forehead as he shook his head at her, you stepped on Owen's wrist with your boot, making the man scream in pain.

"You know, one wise woman once told me this, and listen, you're going to love it." - A chuckle left your lips as you slowly crouched to hold the man's cheeks, turning his head as you. With that, you also put way more pressure into your feet. - "We don't wanna kill you... But we will."

With that, Joel hugged the man's wrist with a firm squeeze, making sure the fucker won't wiggle away when he dragged him to one of the walls where he was about to make sure Owen won't be a threat to you. And you just stood up above the woman, who was starting to sob as she realized they're probably in some knee-deep shit.

"We just wanna talk, ya know? And if you tell us what we want to know, we'll let you live. What do you say?" - The smile you gave her sent a shiver down her spine. When she met you in Jackson, you looked like a normal woman who has everything set straight in her head. Did they do this to you? Or, more specifically, did Abby fo this to you? - "Sounds familiar?" - You left her to be as Joel picked her up, but you went ahead and lit up one of Owen's cigarettes to calm yourself down.

"This can go down two ways, okay?" - You crouched between the couple - Owen was seemingly in pain because Joel did a hell of a good job with pressuring the small spot on his wrist and Melanie was crying. She wasn't too far from begging you to let them both go. Or to at least let them alive. - "You'll tell us and we'll let you be, we'll leave the aquarium. We won't come back after you. We will just find Abby and have a little talk with her. That's a simple way. But if you won't wanna tell us, well, that's another story." - You leaned closer to Owen, exhaling the smoke right into his face. - "The palm will stop hurting soon. No, it won't, but you'll get numb to the pain. I promise." - Owen grinned painfully when you gently patted his shoulder.

A sob made you realized that Mel started crying. Her expression was full of fear, the tip of her nose got read quickly as various red spots appeared on her face. That was when you felt Joel lowering his lips to your head. - "She's pregnant, 'kay? We can scare her to death, but leave her outta it. The fucker's all yours, baby girl, but don't forget that you're still only a human. This gal's terrified enough to tell you what you want off the bat." - Joel whispered to you. Quickly, your glance studied the back vest Mel had on. the pregnancy was hard to see since she was so small and tiny. You felt the man still standing so close your chests were practically touching, so you nodded.

Mel was out of your reach practically ever since that moment. A promise was a promise - and you just promised Joel that you won't hurt her. But you still could use the method Ellie had described you without hurting her - at least not physically. And you could still have so much fun time with Owen. Quickly, you tiptoed and stole a kiss from Joel, getting ready to get the information out of Owen on your own. If you'd like to, Joel would get the information out of the former WLF. Yet earlier last night, you were very clear about this being your moment. You were so close to reaching Abby, which was the only reason you came to Seattle. This guy seemed to knew where she went, or what she was doing, who she was with, or what were her intentions.

"You two have a funny idea of romantic, I tell you that." - Owen snickered when you lowered back on your feet, slowly letting go of Joel. The wrist couldn't be so bad after all. - "Need to catch two people to be turned on, or what you're about? He can't please you, or..?" - Owen continued with teasing you. Jesus, you knew what that was about. Owen was trying to be a big boy, to show you he's not worried about you or Joel in the slightest.

"You know who this is?" - You asked, pointing to Joel. - "Take a guess, come on. Who's this guy?" - This question made Owen furrow as you approached him, running your tongue inside your mouth, popping your cheeks out. The man just shook his head.

"He's the one Abby came for. Joel Miller, the one who was supposed to be killed in the cabin instead of me and Tommy. And this is why I'm here, Owen. It's the consequences of your actions that led me here." - Without letting him take another breath, you pulled his hair and pushed your knee into his nose, hearing an audible crash when his and your body collided. The blood ran down on his face in the next second, which had Mel crying out in fear.

"Let him be! Let him go, please!" - Mel moved her wrists around, trying to free herself, yet the presence of Joel was making her afraid. - "I'll tell you where she is, just don't hurt Owen, I beg you. I'll tell you everything you want." - "Mel, no." - Owen spoke out with trouble, having to speak and breathe with his mouth at once. But your attention was shifted back to Mel.

"Why do you fucking care? She's probably already dead anyway, we can't help her now!" - Mel exhaled, trying to clear her nose at least a bit. - "This is happening because of her. Every time something fucks up, Abby is behind it." - Wow, this took a different turn than you thought it would. Owen and Mel were arguing while you watched it happening and unraveling in front of your very eyes.

"She's your friend, she's someone I knew for years now, Mel. We aren't leaving anyone behind." - "My friend? Are you even listening to what you're saying, Owen? She isn't my friend, she's someone who you left to be with me and once I got pregnant, you went back to her. You think I don't know about what happened on the boat yesterday, huh?" - Mel rose her eyebrows, shutting Owen off completely. Neither you nor Joel dared to interrupt the situation, it was just too raw and to interesting to hear all of it. What happened yesterday? What was it?

"Abby is," - Mel suddenly turned her head to you, but Owen was quick to shout his pregnant girlfriend's name over the whole aquarium. Oh, so that was what happened on the boat. Holy fuck, both of them were just pieces of shits, weren't they? You chuckled at it, walking up to Owen quickly. - "Let her speak, will you?" - You mumbled, putting your boot on his knee as a warning. Now it was the time when Owen felt that he can maybe play the mind games with you.

"This isn't you, is it?" - At that question, you stopped everything you were doing. What the fuck was this question about? - "Think about that. Since you came to Seattle, something's wrong with your head, isn't it, huh?" - Owen gulped, speaking frantically. But weirdly, his words were making sense. - "But you felt it when you entered the first street and took a look around, right? I know the feeling. It's a mix of emotions. A mix of fear, despair, and rage. This is what the city does to the people in it." - Owen continued with his one-sided chit chat, but when your eyes traveled down to the foot leaned into his knee, he understood he's losing you.

"Before this, I was a Firefly. And she was one too. You've heard about Fireflies, right?" - The man asked quickly, making you engaged in the conversation again. - "Which base you were operating on?" - You mumbled back, responding to any of Owen's words for the first time. At this, he was quiet for a moment, your question catching him off-guard. - "Salt Lake City, ever since Jerry Anderson took it under his wings." - Owen explained quietly, seeing your face getting more colorless than before as you looked in front of you, reminiscing of something. That was when the idea first sneaked into his head.

"You've been a Firefly too, weren't you? Huh?" - Owen whispered, watching your response to what he was saying. Though he wasn't sure of it, he was pretty confident that he successfully crawled under your skin. At least a tiny bit. - "Spring. I was a part of the Spring group." - You mumbled as an answer. Oh. The Spring group was sort of a legend in the Salt Lake, just like the other three groups named after the seasons of the year. But Spring was the original, first experimental group of kids and teenagers about who Marlene knew she doesn't have enough time to train.

Thinking about Salt Lake was strange. Owen, Abby, Mel, Manny, and the rest of their friends spent there the best years of their adolescent lives. They learned a lot with the group in there, mastered new skills, but also had a lot of fun. Yet the truth was that because of the position Abby's dad had in the hierarchy meant that their group was... Highly benefited against the others.

When the whole era of Fireflies was coming to an end, Marlene had more kids and adolescents than adults. Sure, she could spend years in hiding while training soldiers out of the young people, but she had this feeling in her gut. She needed a plan, she needed to kick the remnants of government in their guts one more time before going to hell. It was her, who came up with the plan of sending adolescents to die. It was her idea to send them to blow up bombs inside the military zones of the big cities. And it was her, who was responsible for killing more than a hundred barely trained kids within one year before Joel Miller killed her in a cold blood.

Some of the people went into the suicidal missions without knowing what's awaiting them. If they didn't blow up during the attack itself, they were shot by the military. But as soon as people realized what was going on, they started to run out of the base. Some of the kids were later found dead, or infected. But there were maybe three of them that were never found. You certainly being one of them.

"I told you that we're the same, you and I. Both of us felt the shift inside when we entered Seattle, we were Fireflies, and you're a good person, just like me." - Owen tried to get you on his side, but your face was expressionless. You didn't care at this point. - "You're a good person, huh?" - Suddenly, you stomped your foot into his knee, feeling the bones slightly shift under your weight. So you repeated the procedure again and again. Melanie was the key after this moment, which you realized, but... Owen brushed over topics he shouldn't have talked about. The Fireflies, the things you felt inside your head... The fucker didn't have any right to talk about it.

As you walked for the pipe again, the high-pitched sound was in your ears again. Everything around you seemed to blur as the seconds passed, the beating of your heart got loud and raw. So much it was hard to hear your thoughts. It was the same feeling of chaos that ran through you when you and Ellie watched the Scars hanging the man on the tree. Your breath deepened and got louder again, your eyes were filled with hatred as you walked back to Owen. The sounds of your surroundings were blurry, almost unbearable for you - Melanie was screaming something on the top of her lungs, but English didn't make any sense to you at that point. Your eyes were solely fixed on Owen's bloody face.

"Come on, you don't wanna do this. You're not going to kill me." - The man snickered ironically, trying to pretend that he hasn't got a fucked up knee. Slowly, your eyes fixed on his face as you started to psychically disappear from the place you've been at. The Baldwin cottage started to appear, the interior surrounded every small piece of your fantasy, acting almost as parasite you couldn't get rid of. When you looked around, there was everyone - Nora, Mel, Owen, the dudes you barely remembered, the headphones girl, the Hispanic man... And her. Standing in front of you.

Slowly, Abby circled behind you and tugged your head back, making your neck stretch. She was looking down on you, then at Tommy, having this smug grin all over her disgusting face. This was before she touched you. These moments, in your perspective, were the most terrifying ones, because you didn't have an idea about what Abby will do to you. Owen was leaning into boxes, smoking while watching the scenery. - "Let her go, please, she ain't havin' any business in this." - Tommy begged while Nora taped his head to the wooden sink, making sure he can't turn his head around. - "I'm the one ya want, ya goddamn bastards."

"Are you sure about that?" - Abby asked mockingly, looking at the man. But at that moment, you started to mutter something to your friend out there. - "If you tell her anything, Tommy, I swear to God." - Which made Abby smile. The Hispanic man got up from Tommy, looking down at you. - "She's funny, I have to say. Who do you think she is? That old pervert's pet? He? Eres el pequeño juguete del Viejo, he?" - He lowered his head enough to study you up close, furrowing. As soon as he noticed that you're whispering something, he leaned even closer, trying to decipher the words. And against Abby's tight hold on your hair, you turned around to spit into his face, grinning as the Hispanic man almost slapped you like a little bitch you were. But all you got out of it was another strong pull on your hair as Abby pulled your head back into place, having a curse word escaping under your breath.

"Owen?" - The woman above you asked, playfully wiggling her eyebrows. Owen grinned back at her walking up to take her position - tugging on your scalp, holding both you and the chair in place. Just moments after that, Abby punched you in your face for the first time while Owen watched it, not trying to stop her or anything. He just made sure you cant wiggle out and that you're sat in the chair. That was when Owen fucked up for the first time. You'd never let anyone do such things to someone else while you'd be looking at it happening right in front of you. No.

You and the man were nothing alike. And this was the last mistake he'd ever made. Slowly, Baldwin's interior faded back into the wet aquarium one, but the world seemed to black away again as you prepared to swing the pipe again.

"Stop trying to tell who I am or what I want to do." - You answered, hitting his right side with the pipe. You heard his scream, yet it was the last thing you've heard before the world faded off to darkness once again. If Joel would as you what was happening, you wouldn't be able to answer. You simply didn't know. Muffled sounds filled your brain, but those were just unrecognizable sounds that connected to one audio track which you couldn't decipher.

When you've come back together, you felt a warm drop of blood running down your face whole your palm let the pipe fall on the ground, leaving only the metallic sound to fill the room. Mel was screaming hysterically, she was trying to free herself and you felt Joel's arms circling your shoulders as you both slowly sat on the ground. The man expected you to have a panic spot upon seeing what you've done to Owen, or at least to what had remained of the man. But your state was purely catatonic.

You just sat there why Joel was comforting you, your eyes couldn't leave the picture Owen's massacred body. His brain was splashed on the wall behind him, half of his skull was missing. You've broken every rib the man had, his bones in the legs were weirdly bent inward, his knees were smashed flat.

"What have you done? I've told you what you wanted to hear and you didn't let him go, as you promised!" - Melanie yelled at you, finally shifting your attention to her. What could you tell her to cleanse yourself? At least in your eyes? Was there anything to say at all?

"He didn't let me go either." - A mumble explained Mel what just happened as you picked yourself off the ground, untying her palms gently. If she wouldn't be as terrified as she was, she would try to strangle you, but instead of that, she sat there and massaged her wrists. - "You're free to go. Neither I nor my friends will try to hurt you unless you'll try to attack us again, okay?"

Joel was unsettled with your overall reaction. It seemed that you didn't even notice what you've done to Owen as if it was an everyday inconvenience and nothing more.

Mel nodded frantically, picking herself from you, covering her belly as she backed off out of the room. You've set on your way from the aquarium in the next minutes, not noticing that Mel snitched the map from the pocket of your backpack - Joel had the information you've come there for, but he knew that you won't like it.

Why did you feel so empty? You never imagined that this is how revenge would feel like. The man for what he deserved if you'd be his judge, but it didn't bring you any excitement whatsoever. Weren't you supposed to feel good by now? Shouldn't you feel easier when all was said done?

Why did you feel like a dead body just walking through Seattle? If any Scar would try to slice your throat at that moment, you wouldn't even flinch. No amount of murders of the bad people or torture could save your soul from the hell you've taken it into. No-one other than you could redeem your soul. But what if it was already damned? From the first moment, you've seen Abby and her friends as the bad guys who wanted to hurt everyone you loved and cared for. What if you were wrong? What if they were the good guys while you were the villains? Could you ever possibly walk on the path of the right or were you condemned to walk on the path of the wrong until the end of your days?

You knew Joel noticed how off you were. He noticed it before, especially when you practically made him fuck you like an animal, but he dismissed it as nothing serious at first. Yet now you showed him how wrong he was. Just two days ago, you couldn't understand how could he ever use two men against each other, and now, you've bashed another one's skull in cold blood. The descending to the abyss of madness was always easy, but on a place like this, all it took was one small pebble for your foot to slip on and after that, you were beyond saving.

"Are you alright?" - Joel asked as you walked through a big, empty, and quiet street near the theatre. At first, it almost appeared as if you misheard him because you grinned at the question. But after that, you looked at him through the rain, assuring you heard him perfectly. You took a moment to decide what to tell him before you stopped in the rain.

"Joel, I... At first, I thought that I'm doing this for you. You taught me how to love life, how to understand others. Then I thought I'm killing for you, Joel, I've brought so much death in here. I was guarding you from the dark of the night, watched as you slept, kept you on my radar all the time. And then you've disappeared, but I couldn't stop myself from doing all the terrible things." - The man watched your face and the expressions it was projecting, the whole fight inside of you could be basically heard. - "This isn't about you. It's all about me. I had started it, I wanted to revenge me, all I wanted to know was that Abby is dead so she wouldn't try to come for you again.

But then the first WLF came. Then it were the Scars, more WLF, Nora, Owen, the girl with the headphones... I took life from all of those people. And not because they were a threat to you, no, I had a feeling here." - You took his palm and pressed it next to your heart. - "I was so angry. I wanted to feel what revenge feels like, I needed all of it, do you understand me?" - And at that moment, you started crying, shaking your head.

"How was I supposed to know that it is all going to end like this? It's not just me who got fucked over - Ellie is fucked up as well, you hadn't spoken properly in the last couple of days, Dina is just quietly watching us going on one suicidal mission after another, not knowing if we're ever coming back. I... I maybe leave Jackson for good when we get back, Joel. I have this feeling that I don't belong there and maybe I'll be better off as a wayfaring stranger now I know I'm nothing more than a sadistic monster," - You went on, but at that moment, the man just caught your waist and kissed you out of blue, having you shut up immediately. It wasn't a proper response, but you were falling into hysteria and he didn't have the heart to slap you out of it.

When he moved from you again, you didn't know what to say. You just watched him without any clue of what to do now.

"Remember that one nite in Jackson when I asked you on a dance?" - Joel sighed, closing his eyes. - "You've told me that you'll go to hell for that. And all I said was that I'll meet you there. And I meant that, girl. Ya know, for some old man who was survivin' helluva long time out there, this was an everyday situation for twenty years. Killed or be killed? It doesn't matter. In the end, there'll be someone dead." - The man snickered at his own remark, speaking from experience.

"You're everythin' but a monster. You've just never been outside Jackson since you've grown up, that's all. You forgot what's like to be threatened every moment you're outside, what is the reality like now. Trust me, it's comfortin', knowin' you have your bed and your mug, knowin' you can brew yourself some coffee when you get outta bed - but that's not the life here. Trust me, it ain't easy, tryin' to be normal again. And I know somethin' 'bout that myself." - Joel nodded, clearly thinking about the things he's been through in the past couple of years.

Jackson was possibly the calmest and beautiful chapter of his life ever since Sarah was killed. And ever since the night you've told him what you felt for him and the other night Ellie told him that she's ready to try it all again, it all started to make sense. He couldn't lose you. Not when you were the only good thing he knew.

"I'll make you feel good, 'kay? I'll do everythin' I will be able to do to see you happy." - The man smoothed your hair off your forehead, kissing it. - "And if you won't feel that you can live in Jackson, we'll be leavin' together, you hear me?" - Joel assured as you hugged his waist, now crying into the crook of his neck.

At the moment, he was glad that Mel didn't know where Abby was. She just told you she's on the Seraphites' island just off the coast, but the girl was most probably dead at the moment. Searching for Abby would be like searching for a needle in a pile of hay. Which meant that you could go home. Finally.