#the universe is so vibrant its been a while since i wanted to sink my teeth in world building

[deathandnonexistentialdread]

One thing I don't get in the Jack&Joker universe is that if the Joker was this legendary thief whose identity was never known where are the copycats??

Where are the instances of someone else using his symbol in robberies? Where is his symbol being used as a mark against capitalistic oppression? Like in the fashion show robbery they could not just had looked at Tatoo spraying the symbol and go like, 'yes he is working with the Joker'. It should have been more like, 'Does Tatoo really think he can pin this crime on the Joker when no one even knows his whereabouts?'

I want Joke to realize that the Joker has become something bigger then he could have even dreamed off

I also want people to think that Joke is being a knock-off of himself. That would be hilarious.

[songbirdseung]

babies and exs / huening kai

The university professor cleared his throat, capturing the attention of the students gathered in the lecture hall. The excitement in the air was palpable as the professor announced the semester's major group project.

"Good morning, everyone. For this project, you'll be working in pairs to simulate the responsibilities of parenting. Each pair will be given a life-like baby doll, and you'll be responsible for its care, from feeding to changing diapers. This project aims to teach you about time management, communication, and teamwork. The catch is, the pairs are randomly assigned."

An audible murmur filled the room as students exchanged curious glances. The tension rose as the professor began reading out the pairs.

"First up, we have Y/N and Huening Kai."

Your eyes widened in surprise, and you cast a hesitant glance toward the young man sitting across the room—Huening Kai, your ex-boyfriend. Memories flooded back, and you couldn't help but wonder how you would navigate this unusual partnership.

The air hung heavy with tension as Huening Kai and Y/N sat in the park, the vibrant colors of autumn painting the landscape around them. It was a picturesque scene, but the atmosphere was far from serene.

Y/N fidgeted with the edge of her scarf, breaking the uneasy silence. "Kai, is everything okay? You've been distant lately."

Huening Kai sighed, his gaze fixed on the falling leaves. "Y/N, I've been doing a lot of thinking. With my studies and everything, I just feel like I need to focus on myself right now."

Y/N furrowed her brows, a sense of foreboding settling in. "What are you saying, Kai?"

He hesitated before meeting her eyes, the sincerity in his gaze conflicting with the heaviness of his words. "I think we should break up."

The words hung in the air, a palpable weight that seemed to echo through the autumn breeze. Y/N's eyes widened, her heart sinking. "Break up? But why, Kai? What did I do?"

"It's not about you, Y/N. It's about me. I need to concentrate on my studies, and I don't want the distraction of a relationship right now," Huening Kai explained, his voice filled with a mixture of sadness and determination.

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes as the reality of the situation sunk in. "So, you're choosing your studies over us?"

Huening Kai reached out, a conflicted expression on his face. "Y/N, it's not that simple. I care about you, but I need to do what's best for my future."

The words felt like a punch to the gut. Y/N blinked back tears, her voice breaking. "But we were happy, Kai. We could have worked through this together."

He sighed, the weight of his decision evident. "I know, Y/N, but I can't change my mind. I hope you understand."

As the leaves continued to fall around them, the reality of the breakup settled in. Y/N nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "I understand, Kai."

They sat in the park, surrounded by the echoes of a love that had once blossomed under the autumn sky, now withering away like the leaves beneath their feet. The breakup marked the end of a chapter, leaving both Huening Kai and Y/N to navigate the bittersweet path of moving forward while carrying the weight of what was lost.

The professor continued with the pairings, but your mind was preoccupied with thoughts of working with Huening Kai. You hadn't spoken much since the breakup, and the prospect of collaborating on such an intimate project was both intriguing and daunting.

As the class dispersed, you made your way toward Huening Kai, a tentative smile on your face. "Hey," you greeted softly.

"Hey," he replied, a mix of surprise and uncertainty in his eyes.

It didn't take long for both of you to realize the challenges ahead. The first meeting to discuss the project was filled with awkward silences and careful word choices. Yet, as the days passed, necessity forced communication, and a sense of familiarity began to resurface.

The first time you picked up the baby doll from the professor, you exchanged amused glances. It was a realistic-looking doll, complete with a crying mechanism, diaper-changing needs, and even a simulated feeding schedule.

The first day of the parenting project arrived, and with it came a sense of nervous anticipation for Y/N. Armed with a backpack filled with baby supplies, she stood outside Huening Kai's house, taking a deep breath before ringing the doorbell.

The door swung open, revealing Huening Kai with a smile that masked the complexity of their history. "Hey, Y/N. Ready for this?"

Y/N returned a forced smile, "As ready as I'll ever be."

The two entered the house, exchanging polite greetings with Huening Kai's parents, who seemed genuinely pleased to have Y/N over. Little did they know about the past that lingered beneath the surface.

As the project required them to work closely together, Huening Kai's parents generously offered Y/N a spare room for the month. The room was comfortable, but its coziness couldn't dispel the awkward tension that hung in the air.

Over dinner, the three of them engaged in small talk, discussing the project and the challenges they anticipated. Huening Kai's parents were oblivious to the fact that their son and Y/N were once a couple. The charade of normalcy continued, and Y/N couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness as she observed the family dynamics that once included her.

After dinner, the reality of the project set in. Huening Kai led Y/N to the living room, where the baby doll lay nestled in a crib. "This is it. Our home for the next month," he remarked with a half-smile.

The first night was a mix of awkwardness and forced collaboration. They took turns attending to the baby doll's needs, stumbling through the motions of parenting. The shared responsibility forced them to communicate, and as they navigated the challenges, a semblance of their old camaraderie surfaced.

The days turned into a routine of shared responsibilities. Late-night feedings and diaper changes became moments of reluctant teamwork, and amidst the challenges, you found yourselves laughing at the absurdity of the situation.

One day, as you sat together, feeding the baby doll in the university courtyard, Huening Kai broke the silence. "You know, this is weirdly nostalgic."

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "Yeah, it's like a bizarre trip down memory lane."

As the final days of the parenting project approached, Y/N and Huening Kai found themselves sitting on the living room floor, the baby doll nestled between them, peacefully asleep. The room was bathed in a warm glow from the soft light, creating a sense of calm before the storm of emotions that lingered in the air.

Huening Kai broke the silence, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability. "Y/N, there's something I've been wanting to talk to you about."

Y/N looked at him with a curious expression, sensing the weight of the impending conversation. "What is it, Kai?"

He took a deep breath, his eyes meeting hers. "Back when we broke up, I thought focusing on my studies was the right thing to do. But as I spent this month with you, I've come to realize that I might have made a mistake."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat, the unexpected admission catching her off guard. "Kai, what are you saying?"

He looked down, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "I let you go because I thought it was the responsible thing to do, but now I can't help but wonder if it was the right decision. I miss us, Y/N. I miss what we had."

The room seemed to hold its breath as Y/N processed his words. A mixture of emotions swirled within her, but she chose to respond with sincerity. "Kai, I respect your decision to prioritize your studies. I've come to terms with it, and I don't want you to regret the choices you've made."

He looked up, his eyes searching hers for a sign of understanding. "But what if I do regret it? What if I've realized that I want both? I want to be with you and excel in my studies. Can we make it work?"

Y/N sighed, her gaze softening. "Kai, we had our time, and I cherish the memories we created. But we're on different paths now. If you've realized your priorities and want to pursue them, I won't stand in your way. I want you to succeed and be happy, even if it means we can't be together."

He nodded, a mixture of gratitude and regret in his eyes. "Thank you, Y/N. I just needed to be honest with you."

As they sat in the dimly lit room, surrounded by the echoes of a past love and the uncertainty of the future, Y/N and Huening Kai shared a bittersweet moment of closure. The baby doll lay between them, a silent witness to the complexities of their journey. As the project came to an end, they parted ways with a mutual understanding that life's choices, while not always easy, are crucial for personal growth and the pursuit of happiness.

The day the project concluded, the professor commended your teamwork. You and Huening Kai shared a glance, a silent acknowledgment of the unexpected bond forged through a project that imitated the complexities of parenting. As you handed back the baby doll, you couldn't help but feel a sense of closure and gratitude for the shared experience that brought you both a unique perspective on your past and a newfound understanding of each other.

The room seemed to hold its breath as Huening Kai's heartfelt admission lingered in the air. Y/N, processing the weight of his words, took a moment before responding.

"Kai, I appreciate your honesty. It's a lot to take in," she began, her eyes reflecting a mix of emotions. "I need some time to think about it."

Huening Kai nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "Of course, Y/N. Take all the time you need."

In the following days, Y/N wrestled with her feelings, reflecting on the shared history and the potential future with Huening Kai. The memories of their time together during the parenting project and the emotional conversations they had were a constant presence in her thoughts.

One evening, she found herself standing outside Huening Kai's house, a decision weighing on her heart. As she rang the doorbell, her mind raced with uncertainty, but there was a determination in her eyes.

When Huening Kai opened the door, he was met with a resolute expression. "Kai, I've thought about it. I'm willing to give us another chance."

His eyes widened in surprise, a mixture of disbelief and joy flooding his features. "Really?"

Y/N nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Yes, but on one condition. We need to find a balance that works for both of us. I won't stand in the way of your studies, but we need to communicate better and make sure we're on the same page."

Huening Kai's face lit up with gratitude and determination. "I promise, Y/N. I'll do everything I can to make this work. Thank you for giving us another chance."

As they stood in the doorway, the weight of past decisions and the promise of a new beginning hung in the air. Y/N and Huening Kai embarked on a journey of rediscovery, navigating the complexities of love, compromise, and the pursuit of happiness. The echoes of their shared history lingered, but with a newfound understanding and commitment, they stepped into a future that held the potential for a rekindled connection.

[cupcakemolotov]

My Only Love: Part 2

Well, ages later, and I managed this.

When Stefan and Damon find a coffin holding an original, they hope they find an ally. They find Caroline instead. Part 1 on A03

Warnings: Alternate Universe; Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence; original!caroline; hybrid!Klaus;Canon-Typical Violence; Blood Drinking; Blood and Gore; Character Death (Not OTP); Not Salvatore Friendly; Biting; No Smut Yet

                                                       -

Skirts and nails and lips bloody, her left hand curled carefully around the strange device she had plucked from Stefan’s hand the same way she’d taken his secrets, Caroline swept out of the dank and dreary basement to find just how the world had changed. A hundred years surely had more than one fascinating new thing to marvel at, and she wanted it all. 

But mostly she wanted her husband.

It was unfortunate that the house was both astonishing and an utter disappointment. The windows were boarded, and the time-worn furniture and fading curtains were as alien to her as the wide expanse of the rooms. There were no gas lamps or candles here, but strange and delicate things made from blown glass that hung from the ceiling and turned the room nearly noon bright. Some of it was tacky, the colors were atrocious and who picked out those chairs? 

Did this modern work not believe in pretty yet comfortable? She was quite certain Klaus had insisted on owning a set of chairs just like those in the 1800s and she hadn’t liked them then either. And what was that fabric?

What kind of place had she been put away to rot?

Outside, she could feel the burn if the sun and frustration clawed at her. When her father-in-law had left her to rot, he’d taken everything he could. Her daylight ring, the pretty jewelry Klaus had gifted her the morning of her abduction, her favorite hair combs. But right then it was the lack of daylight ring she raged at the most. 

Caroline stared at what looked to be the front door with impotent longing. Somewhere out there was Klaus, free from the machinations of father who had hunted him all her life and she wanted to see what changes that freedom had wrought, to taste the triumph from his tongue. To feel him beneath her hands, to know they were free. 

It'd only been a handful of hours to her memories since she’d seen him last, but she could feel the ache of centuries in her bones. The lack of the man who had stood with his hand curved around hers for all the years of her life. Her nails dug into her palms, gouging little half moons, and she took a slow breath. 

Klaus has broken his curse. Mikael was dead, and she knew her husband was hunting for her with the same need that sat in her bones. He’d come to her as soon as he knew she was awake. She’d woken in a world where they’d won. Her lips curved as she recalled Stefan’s words, the angry, bitter pill of her husband’s triumphs clear in his gaze. Below her, she could hear him grieving, the death of brother the song that would usher her into this new existence.

It was fitting she decided, for this young vampire who wished to destroy Klaus to understand the pain he wished her to suffer. He’d wanted her family destroyed, and instead sacrificed his own. She’d leave him that agony for a while yet, her compulsion ensuring he would stay where he was, keeping the cooling corpse of his brother company. Right then, she had something far more important to do. 

Carefully, she wiped her fingers clean on the skirt of her dress, mourning the ruined fabric of it even though it was already liberally covered in blood. Stefan had carried no handkerchief to offer her and she had no wish to search the house for something more suitable to wipe her hands on. She’d already seen more than enough of this place, and wished nothing to delay her husband finding her. 

Hands mostly clean, she considered the smooth shape of what Stefan had told her was a phone in her hand. A strange, modern device that connected people's voices to voice, sometimes face to face. A wonderful little thing that would bring Klaus to her, when the sun was high in the sky and she had no way to go to him. 

It was fascinating. Stefan’s explanation of how to use it and just how radio signals worked had been quite poor, when she wished to know every facet of the device. What kind of world had it become that such fascinating technology should be so badly understood by those who used it? 

Klaus would help her learn. 

For a moment, her finger hovered over the strange cover, this screen and she let herself wish this reunion would happen when she was a little more composed. A hundred years, and she was dressed in a relic of the past, dust covered and splattered with gore. The gore bothered her less than the dust, the ancient wrinkles she had no way to improve. And what was the point? She planned, hoped to be quite naked very soon. 

Pushing aside that niggling vanity, she carefully copied the motions Stefan had shown her to work the phone. Thankfully, English itself hadn’t seemed to have gone through so many changes it was completely unrecognizable, the shape and form of letters familiar even if utterly strange in this… digital format. First, the odd thing he’d called a passcode. Then she found the green box at the bottom with the strange symbol, followed by recent calls. 

There it was. His name. Klaus. 

Such a simple thing, such a lifetime of need. 

Pressing his name, her brows drew down sharply as nothing happened. Muttering under her breath a number of curses at incompetent things, she carefully prodded the screen until something changed. An unexpected jolt of noise startled her, a loud sound that she supposed was ringing. She was going to have to have so much to catch up on.

“Stefan, rethought my offer?”

The sound of Klaus’ voice, so clear and with that soft mix of charm and menace she knew so well, unexpectedly clogged her throat. Fingers flying to her mouth, Caroline swallowed hard. It was one thing to hear that her husband had triumphed, but it was another to hear his voice. To viscerally know that he was alive and if she could just get her voice to work, he’d be here. 

“Klaus.” The single word came out rough. There was a sudden, fraught silence, and she wondered if the blasted device had stopped working.

“Who is this?” Klaus’ voice was sharp, dangerously bladed, and her eyes narrowed at the threat she could hear beneath his words. 

“I am told,” she said in tones that had cooled considerably. “That you should be able to understand me as easily as I understand you. If you require an introduction to your wife, century between us or not, I am going to be very displeased, Klaus Mikaelson.”

Behind him, there was a crash, a noise that sounded like bone breaking. Her brows furrowed, ears straining to catch any hint of sound. “What was that?”

“Caroline.” Her name was clipped, a thousand things she couldn’t understand in his voice. “Where are you”?

Spine snapping taut in irritation at the blatant order in his voice, the way he ignored her question, her fingers tightened on the screen. “I believe the vampire Stefan called it a boarding house?”

“Stay there.”

Her jaw dropped as there was sudden silence, the screen changing to once again and it occurred to her that he was no longer listening to her. The screen cracked beneath her grip, and she tossed it away. Clearly her husband had forgotten a thing or two in the intervening years such as her dislike of rudeness.

Stay there. 

As if she was a minion. 

As if they hadn’t seen each other in decades and decades. Blowing out a slow breath, she wrangled her temper. He certainly knew where she was but had given her no indication how long it would take him to reach her. Maybe she should head back downstairs and entertain herself with Stefan until he arrived. 

Debating, she blinked when outside, there was a noise, a blur of movement, and then the door opened with a wrench that nearly removed the door from its hinges. Her breath hitched in her throat, and Klaus stared at her from the perimeter of the room, eyes hotly yellow. 

His hair was shorn shorter than she’d ever seen it, the cut and make of his clothing as strange and foreign as the wolf in his eyes. But she knew him down to her bones, and she took half a step towards him without thought. But when he continued to just stare at her, to watch her with a carefully set expression, her remembered annoyance sprang to the surface. 

Hand sliding to her hip, Caroline stopped moving and narrowed her eyes. Temper and the smallest bit of hurt turned her voice hard. “I cannot believe the very first thing you're making me do after being released from that box is remind you that I am not…”

His face lost its passiveness, something vibrant and wild crossing his face before the distance between them disappeared with the curve of his palm on her jaw, and the press of his mouth, firm and plush and wanting, swallowed her complaint. Hands grasping for the feel of his shoulders, his spine, she pressed back with the same gasping need he always elicited in her, teeth sinking into his lip as both a need to taste and a chastisement for his behavior. He groaned against her mouth, tongue chasing hers as she slicked along the blood, and her head spun as he tangled himself in her skirts as they staggered backwards. 

His palm pressed against the back of her skull as he pressed close and her spine hit the wall, so close that hip, thigh and stomach were all one line of burning contact even with her skirts and his clothes between them. There was nothing passive in his touch or kiss as they let mouths and hands roam, and she dug in with her nails, demanding more. 

When he pulled back, lingering so they breathed heavily against each other’s mouths, his hand left her face to cup her hip, pulling her even closer. His gaze flickered down the line of her chest, to the blood splattered material that was both his and the other vampires, and his mouth curved slow and pleased before returning to her face. When he spoke, his voice was low and raspy, a thousand benedictions behind his eyes.

“Caroline.”

[runrundoyourstuff]

Seasons

(A Steven Universe Fic, 2632 words)

Written with love for a holiday exchange with the wonderful @mimik-u !

Prompt: Steven teaches one of the Diamonds about something beautifully mundane (a la Peridot learning about rain.)

--

It’s almost comical how the Dondai pales in size when compared to the Arm Ship—and the magnitude of the difference only grows as Steven descends the ridge. There are some items, both of human and Gem origin, that seemed larger when he was smaller—when he was younger—when everything mysterious in the world, every new thing he learned about himself, filled him with wonder. The Diamond ships, however, are not among these items. They’re as large now as they always seemed to him, if not quite as foreboding. As are the Diamonds themselves, and he is reminded of this, as Yellow disembarks from her spacecraft.

She doesn’t see him right away. Or if she does notice the car, she doesn’t have the frame of reference to recognize it as his, and even after he parks it beside the ship and gets out, it’s several moments before she turns around and acknowledges him standing there.

“Steven!”

“Hey, Yellow.”

“When I called, I hadn’t realized…” She sputters. “Your...your family returned my message to inform me that you were leaving on a conquest—”

“A conquest?”

“Yes, they said that you were going to travel—”

“Yeah, but not on a conquest!”

“Of course, of course, a scouting mission, then—”

“No! Nothing like that! Just a trip! I just...needed to hit the road for a while. Figure out what’s next.”

“I...right, of course. Your—I mean, the Pearl said that you would be taking a hiatus from your Diamond duties…”

At this, Steven chuckles. “Pearl wants me to.” But then he becomes serious. “I shouldn’t laugh. She’s trying to make sure that I take care of myself. She—all of them really, want to make sure I know that I don’t have to be involved in any Gem stuff if I don’t want to. That it’s my choice. And ya know, it’s true that I don’t want it to be my whole life, not like it was when I was a kid. And because there’s no hierarchy anymore, I do want to give other Gems a chance to manage things on Earth if they want to—to show them it doesn’t always have to be a Diamond, and I’m not a Diamond anyway—but I do want to be involved, ya know? Or at least know what’s going on! I put so much work into everything, and not all of it was bad. I was really proud of a lot of what we did, and the Gems are my family…” A pause. “Anyway, that’s all to say that I routed some of the messages from the Base to my phone.”

“I see. I…” She pauses. “I didn’t intend...You did not need to come. I merely called because I didn’t want to catch you off guard. Give your...our...Given my history, I thought if I showed up on your planet unannounced—”

“It’s not my planet.”

“No, of course not. I meant the planet on which you reside. I’ve already...I did not intend to make you feel that…that you needed to come fix—”

Steven raises a hand. “I know. I just happened to be in the area, so I thought I’d stop by. Say hi.”

“Ah. Alright.” The silence resounds. Yellow’s eyes flit away.

“So,” Steven says after a moment—looking for something, anything, to cut through the quiet. “Why Zona?”

“Is that what this place is called?” Yellow glances around. “I needed an area of the Earth where I would cause the least disruptions, where I could dig a sufficiently large hole such that I could access the Cluster. I initially planned on going to one of the Kindergartens, as we’d already irrevocably destroyed all hope of organic life thriving there—I thought I could minimize the destruction. But each already has a fairly extensive subterranean framework that makes it impossible for me to dig deep enough.” She sighs. “I realize this place isn’t perfect. My digging will certainly disrupt some of the plant life. But it appeared at least that there were few humans in the vicinity…”

“Mm.” Steven leads against the hood of his car. “I’m surprised you brought your ship out here and didn’t just Warp. We’re not that far from the Beta Kindergarten, and there’s a Warp there...”

“Those Warps weren’t built for us. We’re much too large.”

“I guess that’s true, but you could always shapeshift.”

“Hmm. I suppose. But there was also the equipment to bring.”

“Equipment?”

“Yes, I...There are...billions of shards in the Cluster. I figured...if I am going to dismantle it and reconstruct each of the Gems whose shards it conatiend, it would likely be easier for me to do it on Earth, rather than bringing all the Shards back to Homeworld. I don’t want to risk losing any of them or damaging any of them even further in transit…And while I may need to ultimately to transport some of them back to Homeworld to locate all the pieces, and though it may be disconcerting for the other Gems to reform on Earth...I…” She leaves the syllable hanging in the air, turns her head away. Steven can just barely make out her tense jaw as though she is gritting her teeth. Sparks radiate from her skin.

“Yellow? Are you...okay?”

“I’m fine!” But then she bows her head, inhales and releases, murmurs: “I apologize, Steven. I am not angry with you. I simply…It has been difficult enough for me to face each of the Gems I have reconstructed on Homeworld. Once they recover from the shock and the terror, they have each looked at me with such disdain. And those Fusion experiments, while they were certainly terrible, pale in comparison to the Cluster. I can only imagine what each of the Gem’s contained within it will feel. And I will deserve it. I hurt so many Gems in the service of the Empire.”

Steven opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, Yellow continues, speaking ever rapidly, ever louder, as though desperate to expel the words. “Do not try to assuage my guilty conscience! That...is not your responsibility. I shouldn’t have just put you in a position to think that it was.”

Another tentative backpedaling, Steven thinks. A walking on eggshells moment, like he’s witnessed with the Gems and Dad over the past several months. And difficult though it is for him to sometimes believe, it’s not as though Yellow is wrong, at least not if he trusts his therapist. But there is a distant look in her eye, a panicked tension in her cheeks, which, when coupled with the fact that this is the first time he’s seen her since his breakdown, makes Steven wonder if she is remembering that day on the beach.

His own memories of it are fuzzy-to-nonexistant; he remembers the pain, and the panic, and the anger he’d held despite knowing that he shouldn't. Then, he has a vague impression of multiple embraces, of Connie kissing his forehead, of crying hot, cathartic tears...And then he’d woken up in the Cluster’s hand, with the eyes of most of the people he loved and almost everyone he’d ever fought all on him.

Despite his own lack of recollection, however, Connie assures him that she’d given everyone—the Diamonds included—something of a blunt talking to that day, a rallying speech, but she won’t elaborate on the specifics of what exactly she’d said. Might that—whatever its contents— be behind Yellow’s hasty assurances now?

“Okay,” Steven responds finally. “I won’t try to make you feel less guilty. But can I show you something?”

Yellow furrows her eyebrows. “Very well.”

“It’s just on the top of the canyon.”

They deliberate for a few moments on the details. Yellow offers to carry him, but even if she’s not White, Steven declines being held in a Diamond’s hand, and while she could shapeshift to fit in the passenger seat of the Dondai, she ultimately elects to simply follow behind the car as Steven slowly drives it up the cliff.

They reach the plateau just as the sun begins to dip in the horizon, casting a golden glow over the grass, over the Autumn leaves, just starting to paint themselves with the vibrant shades that return year after year.

Steven opens the door and steps out. “You never spent much time on Earth, did you?”

Yellow considers. “No.”

“Do you know what I think my mom fell in love with about this planet?”

“Organic life, of course. Humans.” She gestures to Steven. “Obviously.”

“Well, yeah, but not just them. Us. I think it was this stuff too.”

Yellow squints. “These weeds?! These...dying outgrowths?!”

“With things that change. Things that grow. There’s so much of it here.”

“Hm.”

Steven paces over to the grass, then sinks down onto it so that it brushes against his bare calves. It’s mostly soft on his skin but there are dryer patches too, scratchier places on the ground as some of the longer areas start to dry out for the season. The sun dips lower in the sky, and it leaks hues of pink and orange onto the daytime canvas of darkening blue. Yellow looms behind him.

“Feel this.” He pats the ground next to him, and tries not to wince as Yellow’s gargantuan hand settles down on the grass. “You might not be able to tell, but it’s growing. Even right now. By the time the snow—frozen water that falls from the sky—starts to cover it in a few months, it’ll probably be a few inches taller than it is right now. And then it’ll take a break for a while, but when Spring comes next year—when the weather gets warmer again—it’ll start again.

“The trees too. Look out there—they grow taller every year, and every year the leaves change into those beautiful colors you can see. And the shades are similar every year, but never exactly the same. Then the leaves fall off, and then bud again and come back. And the trees keep getting taller. And every time the leaves return, the whole tree is a little bit different too.”

Yellow hesitates. “These are familiar to me. Someone, I believe a Peridot—your Peridot—”

“She’s not my Peridot, but I know who you mean.”

“Yes...Well, she brought some of these...trees...from Earth to Homeworld, and determined how best to make them grow there. I’ve been gazing at them through the windows of the palace ever since, but I hadn’t realized how elaborate, how ever-present, their growth cycles were…”

“I’ve lived on Earth my whole life, and I only just started thinking about it recently. It’s easy to take for granted, but it’s really incredible when you stop to think about it.” He angles his head upward. “And it’s not just the plants. Look at the sky. It changes like this every day.” A pause. “Well, it’s really not the sky that’s changing—Connie told me that it’s an effect of how the planet moves around our sun. But from down here on Earth, it looks like it’s always changing. In a different way every day. I don’t think it’s like that on Homeworld.”

Yellow settles next to him at last, squatting, and then kneeling. “It isn’t. Things are constructed on Homeworld—not grown. We have a sun, but our sky does not transform like this.”

“Exactly. And I think that’s why my mom fell in love with the Earth so much. She was so in awe of how everything naturally grew and changed here.” Steven sighs, clenches him gemstone beneath his hand. “I’m still angry at her a lot of the time, but, like, I get it. She saw herself as this monster.” Here Steven pauses, glances away for a moment before finally letting the words return. “And she didn’t think that she was capable of growth or change. All she thought she could do was pretend to be someone else. And then she found herself on this planet where all anything did was grow for real, and she wanted to be a part of that even in some small way, so she made me.”

“Steven…”

“But the point is, she was wrong. She could have grown as herself. I think she did, even if she couldn’t see it. And she and I aren't the only Gems that grew. All of my friends and family have. None of us is the same as we were when I was a kid. Maybe it just took coming to Earth to see that, ya know? Gems can grow and change, just like the trees can, and the grass, and the sky.

“So yeah,” Steven continues. “White hurt you, and you hurt Mom, and Mom hurt Pearl and Garnet and Amethyst and Spinel and you, and everyone she hurt hurt me, and I hurt Jasper and Dad and a lot of people and could have hurt a lot more, and you hurt all the Gems who were corrupted, and who became the Fusion experiments and the Cluster...and that’s all true, and we all have to deal with that and make the things we did wrong right the best that we can. And it’s hard, and it sucks. But the ways we’ve been hurt and hurt other people aren’t all we are. We can grow and change too. As ourselves. I think the Earth is just one big reminder of that.”

Yellow’s brows are once again furrowed, her jaw agape. “I…”

“So, yeah, it’s going to be hard to face all the Gems in the Cluster as you put them all back together. But it’s the right thing to do. And if it ever becomes too much, you can always come up here, and watch the world change and grow to remind yourself that you’re growing too. You’re better than you were, and if you keep working at it, you’ll keep getting better.”

Then, without waiting for Yellow to respond, Steven stands, walks back over to the Dondai. “Now, I gotta hit the road. I want to get to Vegas by tomorrow. It was nice to see you, Yellow.”

“You as well, Steven.” Yellow rises to her feet.

“Good luck,” he calls out the window as he pulls away, and glancing in the rearview mirror, he sees Yellow’s arm raised in farewell, something like a small, apprehensive smile on her lips.

Six months later, after a sojourn up and down the West Coast, Steven returns to the ridge en route back to Beach City for a visit. He pulls up just as the sun is rising over the canyon, glinting off Yellow’s arm ship, and off of the chest and arms and backs of the little gaggle of Gems gathered next to the ship and the adjacent hole. Yellow is not among them, though. She stands on the crest of the cliff, gazing at the trees, at the little buds beginning to spring into being on each branch.

“Steven.” She turns to him in greeting as he gets out of the car.

“You’ve been busy!”

“Yes, we’re progressing nicely.”

“We?”

Yellow nods. “Some of the Gems I reconstructed from the Cluster decided to remain here to help. Then others in Little Homeworld—and even a few on Homeworld itself—learned about what we were doing, and traveled here to volunteer.” She pauses. “They’re here for the sake of the Gems inside the Cluster, not for me. Still, it is nice not to be alone.”

“Mm.”

Yellow turns from the trees to the canyon, in the direction of the rising sun. The growing orange light catches her Gemstone too, and it glimmers in it. “It’s a beautiful morning.”

“Yeah,” Steven says. “It is.”

[ao3]

[rnufharose]

Chapter 1

Words: About 2K

Warnings: None. Maybe some violence and a character death.

Every child is an artist.

The problem is how she can remain as such when she grows up.

It all begins with just one moment—the moment she picks up a crayon, a marker, a piece of colored chalk, or maybe a paintbrush. She uses the color red, maybe blue, or green, until her imagination blossoms and creates her hopes and dreams.

And what were her dreams? What dreams did she embrace? What honor did she protect? Well, she did many things, but as time passed and as the Planet was being sucked dry, so was the landscape. All she could see was the green lights, the iron skyline against the vibrant blue sky, reminiscent of an important person's eyes, and soon, each and every canvas was the same. The same buildings in the distance, the same children on their bicycles, the same young couple that held hands, the same schoolboy who fumbled with his phone.

To Ann, embracing her dreams was becoming much more difficult as time passed. Her time in Midgar wasn't as beautiful as it used to be when she first arrived.

It was when she was fourteen years old. She had saved up all of her money and left her hometown of Gongaga to follow her older brother where she too wanted to make it big in the greatest city on the Planet. She wanted to be an artist that would make people smile. She wanted her works to grace the canvases of every gallery where people would come from all over the sectors to see what she had painted next.

While her brother climbed the ladder and became a renowned SOLDIER for Shinra, Ann continued studying, spending the late-night hours perfecting her skills in sketching or painting while her brother slept away, his snoring sounding throughout the apartment. When she turned eighteen, she had been accepted into Midgar University, taking her place in its prestigious art program, but things changed. Ann's life grew dull, the warm and cool and pastel colors that were her world reduced to black and white, and she wasn't the same anymore.

She never picked up the color sky blue. She never looked up at the blue sky on a clear day. That very shade of blue became a constant reminder of what she had lost, and she would never see him again.

Ann was seated in her studio apartment, looking at the blank canvas propped on her easel, the city lights of Midgar just through the wide window with the skyscrapers of Sector 8 towering in the distance, Mako energy tinting the landscape a bright green with no stars to be seen in the night sky. She should have been working on her art project but she didn't feel like picking up her paintbrush, the shades of red acrylic on her palette untouched.

She breathed a heavy sigh, looking down at her lap where her hands were clasped, only to look back up when she heard a knock on her door. The brunette stood up, blue eyes set on the door, and she crossed the apartment to see just who had arrived.

"Helloooooo," a sweet voice called from the other side, and Ann knew just who it belonged to.

She unlocked the door and pulled it open, coming face-to-face with the one person who made her a life a little more vibrant. There she stood—a slightly older girl with big green eyes and an optimistic smile. Her brown hair was planted into a rope braid, tied back with a pink ribbon, and she wore a laced necktie with a flower charm along with a red bolero jacket, a pastel pink dress, and boots.

"Annie!" She greeted, wrapping her arms around the younger girl and giving her a tight hug, smelling of lilies. "Ooh, I missed you so much!" She always said that even when she had only seen her the day before.

"Hey, Aerith," Ann spoke softly before allowing her inside, closing the door behind them as the other girl walked toward the table, putting down her basket of flowers.

"I brought you those red roses you love so much," Aerith said as she took one step toward the kitchen area, opening the cabinet and pulling out an empty glass vase. "I figured you can brighten up this place. You need to surround yourself with more flowers."

"You don't have to do that," Ann chuckled a bit. "Do you want anything? Tea, maybe?"

"I'm afraid I can't stay for too long. I have more flowers to sell. You know what they say," she spoke as she filled the vase with water. "Midgar full of flowers, your wallet's full of money!"

He said that, Ann thought, walking back toward the easel and picking up the palette, washing off the acrylic in the kitchen sink.

"I see you haven't painted anything yet. Artist's block again?" Aerith wondered with an innocent tilt of her head and Ann gave a nod.

"You could say that," she said tiredly. "Sometimes... I just think I should just quit and go back to Gongaga..."

"You can't do that!" The flower girl gasped, walking away from the vase and standing at Ann's side, holding her arm with both hands, her brows furrowed with concern. "If you leave, then I'll never see you again! You're my best friend, Annie, and I'll be sad if you go..."

"Things just aren't the same anymore, Aerith," Ann shook her head, her eyes closed. "It's been a year, and nothing has changed... my world is dull... everywhere I look, all I think about is him."

Aerith pressed her lips together, gazing at the younger girl in silence, her eyes becoming melancholy. She knew exactly who Ann was referring to. That person she spoke of was important to her as well. He was the one who fell from the sky and into her bed of flowers. He was the one who helped her face of fear of the sky. His smile, his heart, his laughter, his dreams—they all became a part of her until she fell for him.

Her twenty-three wishes, her eighty-nine letters—they were all so she could see him again. Through him, she met Ann, and they became as close as sisters, and when she sensed his death a year ago, it kept her closer to Ann. She had to look after her and make sure she was okay. It hurt Aerith just as much, but she took comfort in the fact that he simply returned to the Planet.

She would see him again at one point... just not right now.

"I know," Aerith hugged Ann close, stroking her hair. "But he's always with us. You can't let his passing stop you from living. He would want you to embrace your dreams too. He will be so proud of you when you become a famous artist." She looked up for a moment, her gaze distant. "You have to keep his memory alive, and I've been doing the same thing. If I just sell more flowers, I know he'll be happy. That's what we've always wanted."

It seemed like it was only yesterday when the three of them were together. In his free time or when Ann wasn't in school, they would spend all of their time in the Sector 5 slums or the Church where Aerith's flowers grew, and they would make the best memories. They were a family and their future seemed bright, but somewhere in the back of her mind, Aerith wished she had stopped him from leaving for his mission that day, and Ann wished she had stopped him as well.

Zack... Ann thought, her eyes glistening with the onset of tears. I wish I could have told you I love you one last time... then maybe... my big brother best friend forever would still be here right now...

"Why don't we go out?" Aerith offered, pulling away from Ann and reaching forward to wipe away her tears with her thumbs before they could fall down her cheeks. "Turn those corners up. Selling a few flowers will put a pretty smile on your face and cure your artist's block!"

The younger girl was ready to politely decline, but she decided not to. Instead, she gave a single nod, the corners of her lips turning up slightly, "Alright... let's head out and sell some flowers."

"Hurray!" Aerith chirped happily, gathering her basket, and Ann gave a slight chuckle, walking toward the closet to pull out her weapon—a red rapier with a rose and gold thorns, along with three Materia slots in the hilt. It was a gift from Zack on her sixteenth birthday, and he had taught her how to wield a sword. There were more monsters in the city back when he was alive and he felt she needed to learn to protect herself in case he wasn't around.

She grabbed it, placing it at her hip where her belt held onto her red skinny jeans with black designs along the left pant leg that looked like rose petals. She grabbed her white leather jacket with its red hoodie, slipping it over her black fitted cropped shirt, and she faced the flower girl. "Ready to head out?"

"Mm-hmm," Aerith grinned, giving her a single nod, and Ann grabbed her keys. They stepped out of the apartment, locking it behind them before walking down the hallway toward the elevator, ready to fill Midgar with Aerith's vibrant yellow lilies.

******

It hadn't been long since they had left the apartment building. The streets of Midgar continued to bustle, its citizens chattering and walking about while the tires of cars raced forth and splashed against puddles. Ann and Aerith were walking through LOVELESS Avenue, the busiest street in Sector 8 which was the center of art and business. It was famous for residents who were studying in that field, as well as employees of Shinra or even the rich folks that purchased penthouse apartments at the top of the residential area. There was the local café, the art museum just down the block, the theatre where hit musicals and plays, including LOVELESS, had been held. There was the convenience store, the boutiques, the concert hall, the fountain at the center of the city sector, and just down the stairs several blocks away was the Sector 1 station.

Aerith had come to a stop in the alleyway between LOVELESS Theatre and the adjacent building, her emerald green eyes on a pipe that was slightly severed, a greenish-blue light coming out from it.

Ann had noticed her come to a halt, curiously eyeing the small light in the alleyway, "Aerith? Is everything okay?"

The flower girl was compelled to go near the light, stepping toward it and away from the busy street, crouching before the light and clasping her hands together in prayer.

Ann followed after her, standing above the slightly older woman and watching the green lights release something akin to embers. "Aerith?" She tried to grab her attention, but she was still engrossed in praying, her eyes closed. This wasn't the first time she had seen her best friend do something like this. It was almost like she was a divine being capable of sensing something otherworldly, but Ann chalked it up to her just being her quirky self as always, never questioning her.

"I hear them," Aerith spoke softly. "They're crying... they're in pain... they want help..."

"Who does?" Ann wondered, but the other girl didn't answer her. Instead, she stood up, having finished listening to the voices that echoed in her head, but her blood ran cold, the sound of howling coming from the other side of the alleyway. She flinched and looked the other way, her brows furrowed, shoulders tense.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Ann inquired. Obviously, she couldn't hear the howling, but she could see the way Aerith had tensed, her eyes in the other side of the alleyway.

"I'm fine," she began before turning away, walking back toward the busy street. "L-Let's get out of here..."

"Wait!" Ann called out, following after her and still perplexed at her friend's frightened expression, and she bumped into a pedestrian, exclaiming slightly as the flowers in her basket fell to the ground.

"Hey, watch where you're going, chick!" The man barked, and the flower girl's eyes widened apologetically, bowing before him several times.

"I'm so sorry!"

He grunted, walking away and grumbling every curse word in his vocabulary while she stayed in her ninety-degree bow.

She gave a huff, straightening her stance, eyes darting toward her feet before her lips parted. "Oh no!" Aerith gasped, kneeling to grab the assortment of yellow lilies and red tulips that had fallen out of the basket.

Ann dropped her shoulders, opting to help her, grabbing the flowers as quickly as she could before anyone could step on them, and once Aerith reached for the last lily, another passerby walked past them, stepping on the flower, crushing the petals underneath his boot, and the flower girl's heart sank a little.

When he was gone, she gathered the flower in her hand, touching the petals delicately. She sighed heavily in defeat, holding it to her chest, "You poor thing..." she couldn't stand it when people stepped on flowers. "Normally... people are more careful with flowers... but he didn't even bat an eye..."

Ann looked over her expression with pity and melancholy. She knew how important flowers were to Aerith. Back when she first met her, she recalled the big scolding Zack had received when he almost stepped on her flowers. "Not many people see them in the city," Ann frowned, holding her shoulder in comfort while giving her the rest of the flowers that weren't harmed. "They often take such beauty for granted..."

"I wish they didn't," she mourned, lifting her gaze to look up to the nearly black sky, covered in smog, Mako energy, and light pollution.

"One day, I want to fill the whole city with flowers," Aerith continued. "But how can I do that when the Planet is crying out in pain?"

Ann wasn't sure how to answer that. Slowly, she pulled her hand away from Aerith's shoulder, lifting her gaze toward the sky, and she too gazed at how starless it was. Back in Gongaga, she would have seen so many of them, but this was Midgar, the iron city, and there was clearly something wrong. Zack... she thought. What would you do?

******

Somewhere in another part of Sector 8, the train was pulling into the Sector 1 station near Mako Reactor 1. Atop the train, on one of the many cars, someone was kneeling, baby blue eyes set on his destination ahead, the wind blowing in his spiky blonde hair. His hand grasped the hilt of his giant broadsword tightly before bringing it against his forehead, almost like he was paying respect to it. Then, he set it on his back, standing up from his crouched position.

He was tall, with a lithe, well-built frame, his face fair with the lightest dust of freckles dotting the bridge of his nose and cheeks. He had a tall nose, thin lips, his eyes glowing with Mako energy. He wore leather and metal gauntlets, a pauldron on his left shoulder, and the garbs of a SOLDIER First Class.

The train came to a halt, pulling into the station where two Shinra troopers were on patrol. He hid in the shadows, waiting for the right time to strike, and the troopers inspected the train before one of them was pulled into one of the cars, knocked unconscious by a young man on the heavy side who wore a yellow t-shirt, denim shorts, a red bandana, and some belts and armor.

The remaining Shinra troopers had realized his partner had been immobilized, and he followed the sound of his pained grunt, his machine gun at the ready, but another male had captured him—a young man of the same age with scruff on his face, brown spiked hair and a bandana on his own forehead. He wore a t-shirt, protective gear, and fatigues, and while he held the captured trooper, a third person appeared.

The woman kicked the trooper in the stomach, a smirk gracing her pink lips. Her hair was tied in a ponytail and she wore breastplates over her blue shirt with brown fatigues. She giggled and watching her friend set the trooper to the ground and finally, came the leader of their little group.

He was a burly male with dark skin and tattoos, a crew cut, scars on his cheek, and a gun for an arm. His shades covered his eyes and he wore a sleeveless vest along with a wife-beater, dog tags, cargo pants, and a belt. He turned toward the top of the train, speaking in a gruff voice, "Get down here, merc."

The blonde male complied, making a grand entrance as he flipped off the train, looking ahead toward the end of the platform. It was time for their bombing mission.

My name is Cloud. SOLDIER First Class

[waywardodysseys]

Agony of Parting - Oneshot

Pairing: Agent Whiskey/Jack Daniels x female reader

Warnings: fluff, cussing, angst

Requested?: Yes by @iamwarrenspeace - Agent Whiskey survives Cambodia and returns to the States as a criminal. He’s imprisoned and visited by his fiancée. She’s in turmoil as she learns of Jack’s actions but she has to decide what’s best because of the secret she’s holding onto.

Quote: “Only in the agony of parting do we look into the depths of love.” - George Eliot

~   ~   ~

The day Jack proposed was the happiest day of your life.

He had told you to dress up to the nines because he was taking you to dinner. You had recalled it wasn’t an anniversary, and it wasn’t your birthday or special holiday.

“Why Jack?” You had asked, pestering him for an answer.

He had smiled and kissed you soundly, “do I need a reason to take my favorite girl out?”

You had raised an eyebrow but shook your head.

“Good darlin’,” he had drawled in his Texan accent, “now please dress up for this evening. I want to treat you to a night out on the town while we’re in New York City.”

You had watched him leave for the office – the New York City headquarters for Statesman, a private intelligence agency company for the United States.

Jack had told you early on in your relationship what he did, and that he would be transferred to whichever city he was needed in. You had reluctantly accepted his job being first and foremost to him, and you knew you were second when it came to his career. But when he returned home and ravaged your body endlessly for days, you felt like you had won first place.

Then only a few months ago he had been transferred to N.Y.C. He had asked you to come along too, so you and him could enjoy the city together. You didn’t hesitate to tell him yes. You had been itching to see the expansive city since you had never left the sleepy little town of Denver – your home and where you had met Jack.

Jack had greeted you at seven o’clock on the dot. He was wearing a white shirt, black tie, and dark blue jeans. He was sans cowboy hat which meant his brown hair was on display for the world to see – he rarely left the apartment you two shared without the black Stetson.

He held out a bouquet of long stem red roses which you took from him. You inhaled their lovely scent.

“You didn’t have to Jack,” you had smiled as you grabbed a vase, added water then the bouquet.

“But I did,” Jack had drawled.

His eyes swept over your body. He whistled low then wrapped his arms around you. He kissed your neck and moaned deeply.

“You look beautiful Y/N,” Jack had whispered, “glad you’re mine.”

You had turned his arms and looked into his eyes, “we could stay here Jack.”

Jack had cupped your cheek, stroked your skin then dipped his head and brushed his lips against yours softly. His mustache ticking your skin gently. He pulled faintly back then swept a thumb over your lips.

“I promise when we return you won’t be able to keep your hands off me,” he had whispered with an indication of lust.

You had smirked, “I can’t keep my hands off you now.”

Jack had wrapped an arm around you and ran it up and down your back slowly, “patience darlin’.”

You and Jack had left your shared apartment minutes later. He escorted you to a waiting sleek black town car where it drove the two of you to a restaurant near the Brooklyn Bridge.

You had forgotten the name by the time dessert came out and the piano began playing “When a Man Loves a Woman” because shortly after the waiter placed the decadent chocolate cake on the table and you had taken the first bite, Jack grabbed your hand and reached into his jacket.

“Y/N,” Jack had drawled your name out slowly.

You had looked at him with seriousness and put your fork down.

Jack had cleared his throat, then scooted his chair back and dropped to one knee beside the table.

Your heart had quickened inside of your chest as your eyes glued themselves to Jack’s kneeling form.

“Y/N,” Jack had repeated with nervousness in his voice, “you make me the happiest man in the world. The happiest cowboy in the universe. You are my sunrise, my sunset. You are the one I want to wake up to every mornin’ for the rest of my life, you’re the one I want to come home to and fall asleep next to for forever. You are my world, my universe. Will you marry me?”

You knew you loved Jack. He was your world and universe in return, but deep down you wondered about his career. It would always come first, he loved doing the spy thing, as you had teasingly called it on occasion when the job came first.

Then there was his deceased wife. He had said he was over her; he had moved on. He loved you. But there were times you wondered if you’d ever be good enough for Jack because her memory seemed to cloud and overshadow Jack’s love for you. You felt he wasn’t a hundred percent invested in the relationship he had with you.

Yet you loved Jack. It took time for you to love the man because of his job but you grew to accept him, and his career, then you grew to love him. If he didn’t love you, he wouldn’t be on one knee in front of you, in front of other people asking for your hand in marriage.

You had smiled and reached over, cupping his cheek. “Nothing would make me happier than to marry you Jack.”

Jack had released the breath he had been holding for what seemed to be eternity. He had taken the ring out of the box, slid it on your finger then pulled you into his arms.

You had embraced him tightly in return, never wanting to let go.

When the two of you had returned to the apartment you couldn’t keep your hands off one another as you made love to one another deep into the night and through the morning light.

-------

Now you look down at the pregnancy test in your hand. The two pink lines are vibrant on the display as you look between the pregnancy test, the mirror, and the other four tests laying on the counter. All tests confirming the same thing – you are pregnant.

You place the plastic stick on the counter and walk into the bedroom. Its been only you for the past week or so because Jack had been called to help the Kingsman – the British version of Statesman.

“They need my help darlin’,” Jack had remarked when he informed you of the news.

You knew his work, knew his job and what it entailed. You knew things like this would happen yet part of you wondered if Jack thought you’d be upset about him placing the job first causing you to leave him.

You had smiled at him, “I know Jack. I always ask that you come back to me.”

Jack had smiled lopsidedly, “I will.”

He had brushed his lips against yours. He had pulled back to look into your eyes then pulled you in for a deeper kiss.

You had returned the deep kiss by looping your arms around his neck and running your fingers along the ends of his hair.

“I love you Y/N,” Jack had drawled after pulling away breathlessly.

“I love you Jack,” you had whispered in return.

Days later you realized you were late and began to panic.

Maybe it’s a fluke, you had thought. It’ll be here within a day or so.

Two more days passed, and you had hurriedly gone to the nearest pharmacy buying one of each of the five pregnancy tests on the shelf. You took them back home and here you are staring down at them.

You run your hands over your stomach. You and Jack have created another life. You hadn’t planned on getting pregnant this soon. You two had talked about children after the wedding, and after returning to Kentucky, or even going back home to Denver. Jack had only you. Yet he wanted to make sure you were with and around family if children came into the picture because he wanted you to have their support even though he knew you were strong enough to handle whatever life decided to throw your way.

Your cell phone rings, breaking the quietness throughout the apartment. You run out to the bedroom and pick it up.

“Hello? Jack?”

“Y/N?”

It’s not Jack. It’s a woman. “Um, yes? Who is this?”

“My name is Ginger. I work with Jack. He’s listed you as your emergency contact…”

Your heart sinks inside of your chest.

No, is all you can think as you grasp the phone tightly and sink to the floor.

“He can’t be dead…,” is all you whisper as you think of the life growing inside of you.

You remember his deceased wife. The life she was carrying inside of her. The life you knew Jack was eagerly ready to hold and raise with her. Then she had been at the wrong place at the wrong time. She died because of drug users, and you knew Jack didn’t care much for those kind of people for taking away her and his unborn child.

“Jack’s not dead,” she remarks. “I, uh, I…he’s alive.”

“If he’s concerned about me having the blue rash, he doesn’t need to concern himself. I am fine.” We are fine. “I don’t need special treatment for the antidote.”

“I’m glad to hear you are okay,” Ginger pauses, “I’m calling because Jack’s coming back as a prisoner.”

“Prisoner?” Your focus snaps back to the call, and the woman on the other end. “What are you talking about?”

“I can’t give specific details over the phone. It’s best you come down to Kentucky and meet with his boss. He’ll give a more thorough explanation when you arrive. He has to explain what happened to you.”

“But I don’t know…”

“We are sending a person to your apartment at 10 tomorrow morning. Be ready to go, pack a few things. Everything will be explained when you get here.”

*

The following afternoon you are escorted to an enormous office in the middle of nowhere Kentucky inside the Statesman headquarters.

An elderly gentleman smiles and stands from his spot at an oblong table. He holds out his hand as he approaches you.

“Miss Y/L/N,” his voice is weathered, “I’m Champ.”

You smile in return as you shake his hand. “Please call me Y/N.”

Champ nods curtly, withdraws his hand and points back towards the table. “Please have a seat. I’d like to tell you what I am able to about Jack.”

You follow him and take a seat in one of the green leather chairs. Your eyes are on Champ as he takes a seat back at the head of the table.

You heart beats rapidly inside of your chest. You wonder what Jack has done to warrant this type of meeting with his boss. You try to calm yourself as you take in the smell of worn leather and cigar smoke.

“We did not know Jack had a hidden agenda to keep the antidote from the world’s population until two men from Kingsman informed us of Jack’s betrayal when they returned him to us about forty-eight hours ago,” Champ pauses as he temples his fingers, “I had Ginger call you because you deserved to know. Jack had informed us you and him becoming engaged a few months ago and you are considered his family. She also informed me you needed to know because you are the only person he has outside of Kingsman.”

You already knew you were all he had. Jack didn’t have no one until you walked into his life one snowy night on the outskirts of Denver, in some rundown bar. You needed help with your car, and he was the first, and only person, who offered to help you.

Champ clears his throat, “Jack is now a prisoner under Statesman bylaws. He is in our facility with a few other prisoners. You are welcome to see him as often as you like.”

“How long?” You squeak out. “How long is he going to be in prison?”

Champ shrugs his shoulders, “his case has not reached our presiding authority yet. It could be anywhere from a year, ten, maybe fifteen. It depends on his story and how the presiding authority of Statesman decides to rule.”

You look down at your stomach. You close your eyes, keeping the tears in. Your hormones are on overdrive and you don’t need to cry in front of the man who told you Jack could be in prison until the child inside of you is a teenager.

Your mind flashing through of what memories Jack would miss – birth, changing diapers, first steps, first words, all the first days of school.

Your mind flashes at the memory of how Jack lost his previous wife. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Died in the crosshairs of gunfire because of meth heads. You knew Jack didn’t care for them. After the phone call from Ginger, those thoughts plagued you until sleep finally consumed you.

You knew deep down he’d resort to doing something drastic if it came down to not giving an antidote to someone who does drugs.

Maybe you could have done more for Jack.

Loved him more? You loved Jack with all your heart and soul.

Convinced him he was the one for you? You did as much as you could. Tried to make him see you were the person standing in front of him and not the ghost of his past. The ghost he couldn’t have. The ghost who always haunted the relationship you had with Jack.

You now come to terms with knowing Jack still had an unyielding grasp on the past, on his deceased wife, on his unborn child. He had done what he did because his dead wife and unborn child were still forefront and center in his life. Not you.

“Y/N?” Champ questions as he looks at you. His voice breaking the silence.

You look at him, “yes?”

“Would you like to see Jack today?”

“I, uh, I don’t know,” you reply. You didn’t know how soon you wanted to see him because you feel like this might be your fault.

Were you to blame for Jack’s actions? The thought branding itself to your mind.

You weren’t good enough; he didn’t love you completely. You were a second fiddle to the true love of his life and their unborn child.

“I, uh, I need to go,” you utter as you stand. You need air; you need to think.

Champ hurriedly stands as well, “I understand. You may stay at our accommodations while visiting Jack. We’ll offer this much courtesy to you since the prison is on our grounds. Just let the front desk staff know when you are ready.”

You nod and turn to leave, wiping the tears falling from your eyes.

Minutes later you crash onto the bed in your hotel room, sobbing from the heartache you are experiencing.

-------

The next day you are sitting in an open area with tables and chairs inside the Statesman prison facility. It’s deprived of all other people.

You had your bags packed, ready to go after this talk with Jack. You wanted to go home, your home. You were going back to Denver to be with family and raise the child – alone.

A metal door opens and in walks a guard, Jack’s behind him. He’s wearing a blue jumpsuit with his hands cuffed in front of him. His hair is faintly unruly and stubble has grown on his cheeks and jawline.

“Could you please take these off so I may hug my fiancée?” Jack pleads with the guard.

The guard looks between you and Jack. He sighs heavily.

“Don’t try anything besides the hug Daniels.”

“Thank you,” Jack drawls as his hands are uncuffed.

You stand and smile weakly as Jack makes his way to you and embraces you tightly. You wrap your arms around him tightly in return. Taking in this embrace because it’ll be the last one.

You inhale Jack’s smell. Your nose detects the cologne he always wears. A smell you won’t smell again after today. Yet will also remain etched into your memories.

Jack pulls faintly and looks into your eyes. He sweeps his mouth against your lips.

“Daniels!” The guard huffs.

Jack grins at you and winks.

“Scoundrel,” you laugh.

Jack motions to the table then both of you sit facing one another. He grabs your hands and takes them into his. His skin is rough yet warm. His hands engulf yours, they always do.

“I’m glad they called you. I need you Y/N. I’ve been pacing the floor and pounding my head against the walls; waiting for them to open my door and tell me you are here.” Jack remarks as he squeezes your hands.

You squeeze them back, “Jack.”

Jack smiles lopsidedly, “darlin’. My Y/N.”

“You didn’t want the world to get the antidote?” You don’t hold back on asking him point blank. You need to know why Jack betrayed his job by not wanting to give the world what it desperately needed.

Jack looks down, hiding his eyes.

You remove your hands slowly from his. “The world was in need Jack and you choose to be selfish.”

Jack looks at you. His eyes conveying hurt and anger. “Drug users shouldn’t be given anything!”

“People were dying Jack. Your job was to help them, not help yourself,” you have to keep your emotions in check. You need to remain calm and collected because you know what you’re going to do at the end of this conversation, “maybe if I had been more, could have done more… you would’ve loved me like your first wife and not resorted to what you did!”

“I do love you!” Jack stammers.

“Apparently not enough! You don’t love me enough to think of me before deicing to do what you did? Your fiancée? The woman you are to marry!”

“I love you Y/N,” Jack grounds out, “you are the love of my life.”

“She was the love of your life! She was carrying your child! You two were to be a family!” You stand calmly. “I am done being second fiddle to her Jack. She is gone, and I am the one who’s here. Well was here, for you.” Remain strong. For yourself, for the baby. “I love…no! I loved you!” No tears. Remain calm. “I am done Jack. We are. Done.” You slip off the ring and place it on the table. “I hope you find someone who can break through the walls you have built around your heart because I apparently didn’t break them since you were foolish to do something so reckless, so stupid.”

Jack stands and reaches for you.

You step out of his reach, “goodbye Jack.”

Is she right?, Jack thinks, she was. Is.

Jack sighs heavily in frustration and rubs his face. He had been comparing you to Lela, and he shouldn’t have been. He should’ve let Lela go the moment you had walked into his life, but he hadn’t because Lela was the love of his life. Then you had walked into it, and everything changed.

Fuck, Jack thinks. He knows he has majorly fucked up everything.

Jack’s silence greets your ears which makes you turn on your heel and leave Jack standing in disbelief and heartache. Leaving him in the dark about the baby you carry inside of you.

Today is the saddest day of your life.

Tags: @pascalisthepunkest, @cosmo-bear, @caitlincat-95, @kaelyn-lobrutto24, @x-wingwarriorbbpoe8, @arrowswithwifi, @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead, @longitud-de-onda, @knight-of-heart44, @jokersdoll, @halefirewarrior, @stardust-and-starlight, @readsalot73, @random066, @earl-01, @ezraslittlebirdie, @bonkybaaarnes

[goldenraeofsun]

would you have me, would you want me?

Part I

Part II

Cas chokes on his drink. 

Spluttering, he gasps for breath, his face reddening with embarrassment.

“Sorry,” Dean says, his eyes laughing. “I guess this batch is stronger than the last one.” He gently guides Cas away from the punch bowl, towards an unoccupied corner of the kitchen. “Here,” he says, swapping out their cups. “I only got Jack and Coke in mine.”

“Are you sure?”

Dean sniffs the punch skeptically before taking a small sip. “Yeah, my standards are not high. Jesus Christ, they must’ve poured the whole bottle in there.”

Cas hides his own smile behind the rim of Dean’s cup.

“So, Cas,” Dean starts, “What’s up?”

“What’s up?”

“Yeah,” Dean says. “It’s like I hardly see you now we’re done with Cicero.”

Cas takes a large gulp of his drink. “I didn’t realize you noticed.”

“‘Course I did!” Dean says, mock-outraged. He ignores a loud cheer from the crowd around the doorway at the other end of the room. “Tutoring was the best part of Thursdays.”

“You have double-period Latin and Ms. Abbadon back-to-back on Thursdays,” Cas says shrewdly, as he watches Gordon from Calculus brandish two full bottles of vodka. “There wasn’t much competition, as far our tutoring sessions went.”

“How’d you know that?” Dean asks, baffled.

“You complained of both frequently,” Cas says. Before he can stop himself, Cas tacks on, “I always listen when you tell me things, Dean.”

Dean smiles weakly at him before taking a large gulp of punch. “Hey, do you want to go somewhere quieter? I can barely hear myself think.”

Cas nods and lets Dean pull him out of the kitchen.

“So how’re you really doing?” Dean asks as they settle down on the first steps of the forbidden stairs to the second story of Tessa’s house. “Did your old man come through?”

Cas’s expression hardens. “He won’t be able to make it to graduation. I received his response in the mail a few weeks ago.”

Dean studies him, and Cas tries not to fidget under his gaze. “Let me guess, you’ve been skulking in the library ever since, your nose buried in a book.”

Cas bristles. “I do not skulk.”

“Dude, you so do,” Dean says, laughing. “With the face, and the eyes - trust me, you’ve sent freshmen running for the hills and you don’t even know it.”

Cas hunches in on himself. “I haven’t been in… the best of moods lately.”

“No shit,” Dean says as he reaches out and claps Cas on the shoulder. “At least you’ll have Gabriel?”

“Small consolation.”

Dean bumps up against Cas reassuringly. “Come on, he’ll make enough noise for at least four relatives.”

Cas just shakes his head.

“At least you’ll be leaving all this behind,” Dean says, his face darkening. “You’ll be able to start new and shit.”

Cas turns to him, puzzled. “I’m barely going out of state. And it’s only for four years - less, if I can graduate early.”

“Uh huh,” Dean says, not looking convinced in the slightest. He swirls the terrible punch around in its cup before taking a large gulp.

* * *

Castiel swallows nervously.

“It’s good to see you,” he tells Dean.

“Same here,” Dean says. He glances at Charlie. “You know Charlie?”

“Cas teaches Latin and French at Carver Preparatory Academy,” Charlie pipes up. At Dean’s blank look, she explains, “A few years ago, Roman donated a bunch of tech to his alma mater. Yours truly was sent in to coordinate from Roman’s side of things, and Cas here drew the short straw at the high school.”

“I also chair the robotics club,” Castiel clarifies.

“You’re at Carver?” Dean asks, eyes widening. “Teaching those douche nozzles that stole Peppy the Pigeon?”

Castiel makes a face. “Those students were reprimanded and suspended. It was not an… authorized thievery.”

Dean snorts.

“And it’s not like your students’ hands are entirely clean either,” Castiel adds reproachfully. “Didn’t they sneak pot brownies into our bake sale for senior prom?”

“So what if they did?” Dean crosses his arms across his chest. “As far as I’m concerned, they got more bang for their buck. You can’t get a pot brownie for three dollars just anywhere.”

“The faculty bought them too! We were in the middle of midterms!”

Dean smirks. “Extra fun midterms, then.”

Castiel throws his hands in the air. “I don’t know why I even bother,” he says as he spins on his heel. “I need another drink.”

Dean hasn’t changed. Not one bit.

He gets halfway to the makeshift bar before Charlie waylays him. “Dude,” she says, her eyes huge.

“What?” Castiel jerks his arm to throw off her grip and makes as if to step past her.

“That was a disaster.”

“You’re telling me,” Castiel says sourly.

“Why’d you attack him like that?”

“He started it,” Castiel says, eyes flashing.

Charlie throws him a deeply skeptical look. “Are you really incapable of being in the same room for five minutes?”

Castiel sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Most likely.”

“At least nobody threw food,” Charlie says before perking up. “Although that last food fight was epic.”

“He started that one too.”

“You could’ve walked away, literal egg on your face or no,” Charlie says, the corner of her mouth twitching.

Castiel shakes his head. “I’ve never been able to walk away from Dean Winchester. You know that.”

“Sure,” Charlie says easily, “but he doesn’t.”

* * *

Cas swallows nervously. 

“I’ll come back for the holidays,” he offers boldly, the alcohol shoring up his resolve. He isn’t sure Dean would even care, but he needs to say something.

In the beginning, Dean needed help with Latin, so Cas was assigned as his tutor. After a rocky start - Dean kept ditching Cas for reasons unknown - Cas followed him to his car and refused to get left behind again. With Dean in the driver's seat, they picked up Sam at his middle school and drove him to soccer practice.

Cas tutored Dean right there on the bleachers overlooking the scrimmage game.

When it rained, Sam came with them to the library - as happy as a pig in shit, as Dean often said while ruffling Sam’s hair.

To celebrate their last tutoring session a month ago, Dean took Cas to the movies. A film had just opened about two demon hunting brothers. The trailer showed them saying a Latin exorcism, so it totally counted, according to Dean.

Dean and Cas are friends. Probably.

But Dean has a lot of friends. Cas has observed them across the cafeteria, over the pages of too many books to name. They make Dean laugh, far more than he ever has with Cas. They understand his jokes without explanations. Dean doesn’t meet their eyes for only a moment before ducking away.

After a small eternity, Dean speaks. “I’m glad you’re here, Cas.”

Warmth blooms bright in Cas’s chest. “Me too.” He fiddles with his cup before taking a reassuring swallow of liquid courage. “Why did you invite me?”

“I dunno.” Dean stares down at the drink between his hands. “Thought it would be nice.”

“Really?” Cas asks, his voice dripping with skepticism.

Dean screws up his face. “You seemed stuck in this funk, man. And you weren’t getting out of it on your own, so, I guess, I thought it was time to bring in the big guns.”

“A party?”

Dean grins. “Nothing like alcohol and bad decisions to loosen you up.”

Cas chuckles under his breath. “I almost didn’t come.”

“I figured it was a long shot. Why did you?”

Cas swallows down more of his drink. “You asked me to.”

“Yeah, but…” Dean drifts off, brow furrowed.

“You’ve asked me for exactly four things over the past year,” Cas says seriously, ticking them off on his fingers, “One, to let you drive Sam to soccer practice while we were supposed to have tutoring; two, to borrow my flash cards, which I was going to give you anyway; three, to go to the movies with you; and four, to come to Tessa’s house tonight. That’s it.”

Dean knocks back his cup, his eyes dark. “I guess I thought I was more of a drag for you these past few months.”

Cas’s mouth falls open in surprise. “A drag on what, my vibrant social life?”

Dean shrugs, staring out at the empty hallway. “You have this mysterious loner vibe going on. I didn’t think you wanted anyone to mess with that.”

Cas squints at him. “I have a vibe?”

“At first I thought you just thought you were better than the rest of us,” Dean continues as Cas’s heart sinks into the floor. “But I know better now.”

Cas tips back his drink, draining it. He croaks, “You do?”

One corner of Dean’s mouth lifts into a half-smile. “Yeah, I do, Cas.”

* * *

Castiel’s stomach flips at the sound of his name.

Dean catches up with him right outside of the gym, calling again,  “Hey, Cas, wait!”

Castiel turns, dread curling in his gut. But he can’t flee - he still has some pride left. “What?”

“I think we need a do-over,” Dean says seriously.

Castiel bites back the, What gave you that idea? on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he says, as evenly as he can, “I think so.”

Dean rubs the back of his neck, wrongfooted in a way Castiel has never seen on him before. “Look, we’re not our students, obviously.”

“Or else I would know what ‘yeet’ meant,” Castiel says wryly.

“Mood,” Dean deadpans, before his face breaks out into a smile as Castiel squints at him, uncomprehending. “I heard down the grapevine you went into teaching a few years ago. Good for you, putting those tutoring skills to better use.”

“It seemed a logical choice.” He eyes Dean, biting his lip as he tries to convey his next thought without offending him. “But I was surprised to hear you went into teaching too.”

Dean snorts. “You and everybody else.”

“Why did you?”

Dean shrugs. “I had this teacher in community college, Missouri Moseley - she said it would be a good fit for me. She convinced me to transfer to a four-year university and get certified.”

Curious, Castiel asks, “Why did she say it was a good fit?” before he thinks better of it, and adds quickly, “Not that I think she’s wrong.”

“’Course you don’t,” Dean says with a lopsided grin. “She said I would come to the role from a position of empathy. That I would be able to reach the troubled kids who need the most help.” He averts his gaze, muttering, “Fancy words for saying I have a soft spot for the outcasts and loners, I guess.”

“You’ve got to be joking.”

“No?” Dean’s brow furrows as he takes in Castiel’s stony expression. “I told you my dad was never around. Not one teacher noticed,” he says, gesturing around them. “Our guidance counselor was a waste of space. I only went to community college to set a good example for Sammy.”

“Yes, but,” Castiel protests, “you were popular. You weren’t an outcast.”

“But you were,” Dean said, eyebrows raised expectantly.

Castiel grimaces. “I know that.”

“There you go.” Dean crosses his arms across his chest, satisfied.

But, Castiel is far from satisfied. He hasn’t been satisfied for ten years. “I don’t understand you,” Castiel grinds out, frustrated. “You’re saying you went into teaching to help kids like me?”

Dean’s confidence cracks the tiniest fraction. “Yeah?”

Castiel lets out a dark laugh. “I suppose you have changed.”

“I mean, it’s been ten years…” Dean drifts off.

Castiel could use another drink. Or five. He rubs a tired hand down his face.

“Look,” Dean says, “I know I was an ass to you in senior year.”

“Only the last few months,” Castiel says sharply. “For the vast majority of that year, you were my friend.”

* * *

Cas’s stomach flips at the sound of his name.

Cheeks flaming, Cas sneaks a peek at Dean out of the corner of his eye.

Nobody called him ‘Cas’ before Dean. Teachers and classmates always used ‘Castiel.’ His relatives, his mother, all called him by his given name.

But Dean - Dean would sooner spend his valuable lunch money on the cafeteria salad than ever call him ‘Castiel.’ From day one, he claimed ‘Cas’ as his.

“I don’t mean to shut everyone out,” Cas says, the words spilling out of him before he can dwell too deeply on them. “I just don’t know how to let them in.”

“It’s not easy,” Dean says frankly. He tips back his cup of punch.

“You don’t seem to have the same difficulty,” Cas says in a low voice, trying not to sound accusatory.

Dean shrugs, his eyes troubled. “It’s all relative, I guess.”

Cas leans forward, resting one elbow on his knees as his other hand dangles uselessly at his side, clutching his mostly-empty cup. “I probably should have done more.”

“If you’re happy kicking it solo, who am I to tell you how to live your life?” Dean asks, and Cas cranes his neck to see him relaxing back, sprawling out so his arms take up the whole width of the stairs.

“But maybe I could have been happier if I had more friends.”

Dean shakes his head. “No way to know that for sure.”

“Really?”

Dean licks his lips. “I mean, I got a lot of people who like to listen to me run my mouth and make stupid jokes. I don’t have a lot of people who would put up with my idiot little brother for a twenty-minute car ride every week.”

“Sam’s not an idiot,” Cas says automatically.

Dean grins. “There we go.”

“I’m sure you have more than you think,” Cas says quietly.

“Leo would rather strip and sing the Macarena in front of the student body than spend one minute with Sam, and don’t get me started on Bela or Gordon,” Dean says derisively. “Look, ‘m pretty sure I got one dude who’s up for it, and I’m looking at him.”

Cas ducks his head, staring hard at the piece of carpet between his feet.

“You’re a good friend, Cas,” Dean’s voice says to his back. “If you want to fuck off after college and live like a hermit in the Rockies, be my guest. But it doesn’t have to be that way. It’s not your fault nobody else sees how awesome you are.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “I told you, I’ll probably return after college. My family is here.”

“Fat lot of good they’ve been doing for you lately,” Dean snorts.

Cas turns to look at him. “I think I’ve managed fine on my own.”

“Yeah, but you deserve better than ‘fine.’” Dean sits up, his eyes dark and intense. “You deserve the goddamn world, man.”

Cas stares at him, his eyes wide.

“Fuck it,” Dean mutters before pressing their lips together.

Onto Part III

[mostlycompetentwriter]

“Be Mine”- A Sunshine AU Drabble

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Han Jisung (Stray Kids)

Word Count: 2,500

Warnings: Language, some mentions of smut, it’s mostly cute

Genre: Married Life AU

Notes: Happy Valentine’s Day!!!!

“Is that the best you can do?” I groaned, fixing Hyunjin with what I hoped mimicked the effect of Jeongin’s notorious puppy dog eyes.

Instead, my best friend and business partner scoffed, grabbing a towel to wipe away the flower painting the side of his cheek. “What the hell did you expect? You tell me to bake your husband a cake an hour before we’re supposed to close!”

I winced at his tone, realizing that Hyunjin's frustrations were completely warranted. But I was growing increasingly desperate, especially while the clock continued to tick away in the background. Because, like the forgetful idiot that I was, I totally missed the giant heart circling today’s date on the calendar in my bedroom. 

In my defense, I was completely disoriented after Jisung woke me up between my legs this morning, tongue circling against my clit with urgent movements. It was the first sign that I should’ve been paying more attention as opposed to losing myself to a well-deserved orgasm. "Happy Valentine’s day, Y/N,” Jisung said with an arrogant smirk, clearly proud of his early morning efforts.

Of course, there was also the additional surprise of pancakes waiting for me in the kitchen. My plate was stacked high with the doughy breakfast food shaped into misformed little hearts. Bless his soul, but Jisung was definitely inept when it came to cooking. 

I ate quietly, trying to ignore the way Jisung watched me from the counter, cheeks squished between his palms. “It’s good,” I lied to him, trying my best not to choke on the burnt edges, but it was worth it to see Jisung’s face light up with his beautiful smile.

“Baby,” Jisung had finally stopped me on my way out the door, pulling me into a passionate kiss. “I’ll see you later tonight. I have something special planned for you.”

Fuck. My. Life.

“Hyunjin, I’m so screwed,” I groaned, pulling the tiny cake closer to me. “Thank you for this.”

“Y/N forgot Valentine’s Day again,” Hyunjin sighed, reaching behind him to undo the strings holding his apron together. “What a surprise.”

I glared at him because I was determined not to make a repeat of last year when Jisung had spent a fortune on a new pair of earrings to offer as a gift for the cheesy Holiday. I remember accepting them hesitantly, wondering why my husband felt the need to buy me jewelry. “What’s this for?” I had chuckled, feeling my heart sink in my chest when I recognized the familiar look of disappointment in Jisung’s eyes. 

“It’s a stupid holiday,” I muttered. “I don’t understand why Jisung even likes it so much.”

“He’s a hopeless romantic,” Hyunjin said, tone rising dramatically. “But yours truly will celebrate at home. Alone. With a case of beer and a bag of stale pretzels.”

“Good for you, Jinnie,” I teased him, patting his shoulder while he glared at me from the corner of his eye. “Close up shop, yeah? I have to run through the streets begging someone to sell me some flowers.”

“Whatever, Y/N,” Hyunjin said. “You should be more grateful that you have someone to celebrate this hellish day with.”

“I’m beyond grateful,” I said, rolling my eyes as I dismissed him curtly, wrapping my jacket tighter around my shoulders when I walked outside.

I felt like a complete imbecile driving through the empty streets of the city, looking out my windows for any familiar sign of those ridiculous flower stands that popped up rampantly around this time every year. Yet, another obvious warning that I had blatantly ignored which could’ve saved me a lot of grief when it came to pleasing my husband. For once in my life, I’d like to feel more prepared for Valentine’s Day because Jisung enjoyed it so much and I always felt obligated to entertain the things he liked even if I didn’t share his enthusiasm.

“Aha!” I cheered triumphantly when I spotted a bright neon pink cart set up outside an empty diner. I parked my car as close as possible, locking the door behind me before approaching the stand with determination. 

“Evening,” the owner greeted me with a faint hint of amusement which I chose to ignore as I scoured my few pathetic choices.

“I guess I’ll have those,” I said, indicating my hand in the direction of a modest bundle of flowers that definitely had been turned over by countless other patrons who had probably enjoyed a much more vibrant selection.

“Of course,” the man agreed. “That’ll be fifty dollars.”

“Fifty dollars!” I exclaimed, frowning at the wilting bundle of roses. “What the hell?”

“Valentine’s day is almost over,” the man shrugged. “It’s about time for the really desperate ones to come out.”

“I’m not desperate!” I lied, muttering under my breath as I reached into my wallet. “Just give me the damn bouquet.”

The man smirked, snatching my money while handing me the saddest excuse for Valentine’s Day flowers I had ever seen. Still, at least it would be something thoughtful to give Jisung as I hurried back to my car. I had about half an hour to make it home since my husband had insisted on making dinner for the two of us, something I protested whole-heartedly because Jisung was a nightmare in my kitchen. However, regardless of my protests, nothing could stop Jisung when he was set on doing something. I could only hope that he managed to keep the heat on medium when he was cooking Ramen.

I reached back into my coat pocket for my discarded keys, growling when I realized that a parking ticket was stuck underneath my windshield wiper. “Fuck,” I cursed, groping for the door handle of my car before gently placing the flowers down in the front seat. I glared at the ticket before tossing it on top of the dashboard. “Who the hell is patrolling the meters this late at night?” 

Of course, there was nobody present to address my grievances, leaving me to stew quietly by myself as I maneuvered my car onto the highway. 

Ever since I could remember, my husband always insisted on celebrating Valentine’s day with the most passionate displays of declaring the modest “I love yous” we always shared on our way out the door in the mornings. I had never properly understood his obsession with the Holiday as I made no secret of my own dislike for the commercialized occasion. I mean, who does Walmart actually think they are by charging over three dollars for a box of marshmallows with chocolate on top?

Distracted by my unpleasant brooding, I turned off the exit ramp without remembering the brand new traffic light the state had recently built to control rowdy teenagers who liked to handle the curve at maximum speed. The bright red of the light caught me completely off-guard and I slammed on breaks instinctively, realizing too late that the jarring movement had sent my precious cake careening into the floorboard. 

“NO!” I cried, resisting the urge to bang my head against the steering wheel when I looked down and saw Jisung’s cake had tragically been completely destroyed, flowers joining the terrible mess that would be impossible to clean. “What the actual hell,” I bemoaned, searching for a spare tissue to try and at least clean the icing from my leather seats. 

When the light turned green, I eased out into the intersection knowing that I now had nothing to give Jisung for Valentine’s Day. The thought was rightfully sobering and I pulled into our apartment complex with a heavy heart because there was no back-up plan waiting to save me. I was left with nothing and my husband would suffer the consequences of yet another year of my poor planning. 

As soon as the ignition was off, I did my best to reform the cake and gather the flowers together. It was pathetic, both their appearance and my blatant disregard for appropriate planning. “I’m sorry, Jisung,” I whispered into the cold night air, holding the pathetic excuse for a cake tightly in my arms as I entered our building. 

I wrestled with my keys at the front door, managing to catch the lock before using my foot to help me inside with what was left of my Valentine's Day surprise. With a deep sigh, I placed the cake and flowers on our side table, studying them as I tried not to imagine Jisung’s reaction to my gifts. “Y/N!” he sang, peeking his head out of the kitchen wearing an adorable smile. “Guess what?”

“Hmm?” I feigned noncommittally, hanging up my coat before fidgeting with the cake and flowers on the side table. 

“I made dinner!” Jisung said. “And I didn’t burn the kitchen down.”

“I’m proud of you, babe,” I told him sadly, wondering if the Universe was conspiring against me in its determination to ruin my marriage on the one day of the year meant to celebrate love.

“How was your day?” Jisung asked from the kitchen.

“Fine,” I grimaced. “What about you?”

“It was interesting,” Jisung said. “Come here for a second. I want you to look at the cards my kids made for me.”

I put on my best smile, accepting a kiss from Jisung before my husband was ushering me against the counter. “Aren’t they adorable?” he asked, shuffling through the tiny Valentine’s cards decorated with a variety of familiar cartoon characters. 

“I Dumble-ADORE you,” Jisung giggled, handing me the Harry Potter themed card. It reminded me distantly of my own childhood where I would drag my mother through the grocery store, determined to find the best box of childish cards for my classmates.

“To the most handsomest teacher,” I read, offering Jisung a mischievous look. “Does this little Sarah have a crush on you?”

“She’s just a kid,” Jisung said, fingers nimbly massaging the skin at the back of my neck. 

“It’s okay,” I grinned. “I understand her opinion.”

“Is that so?” Jisung questioned, pulling me in closer from his grip around my waist, offering me a searing kiss that ignited a familiar desire to bend over the nearest piece of furniture for my husband. “Dinner’s ready,” he said, releasing me despite my whine as he started to arrange our plates. I wasn’t surprised to see that Jisung had created a romantic set-up in the dining room complete with a pastel-pink tablecloth decorated with our finest wine glasses and cutlery. There were even a few lit candles arranged with the centerpiece. 

“You worked hard, I see.”

Jisung offered me a sheepish smile. “Do you not like it?”

“Of course I like it, babe,” I said, taking a seat next to him at the table. “I know you did your best.”

Jisung filled my plate with a steamy offering of whatever delicious concoction he had somehow created. “It’s some kind of pasta.”

“You don’t know?” I questioned, enjoying the way Jisung’s ears turned red at the accusation.

“Changbin might have helped.”

“Hmmm,” I giggled, reaching for the wine bottle. “Does that really count, Sungie?”

“Well, I bought the wine myself.”

“And I’m so very proud of you for it.”

I carefully poured us both a glass, sipping the delicate liquid. “An appropriate choice.”

“Yeah? Minho recommended it.”

“Jisung,” I laughed. “I feel deceived.”

 “Don’t worry,” Jisung reassured me. “Your present was completely my idea!”

I stuffed another bite of food into my mouth at the mention of a gift. “Oh?”

“I think you’ll love it,” Jisung said, obviously very excited at whatever thoughtful present he likely purchased for me again this year. Unlike my unsuitable offering still sitting on the side table.

Jisung continued to fill the majority of our conversation, talking about a new assistant principal at his Elementary school. Meanwhile, I tried to maintain a neutral expression, hoping that Jisung wouldn’t notice how nervous I was about whatever he had planned to give me that would pale in comparison to my wrecked cake and dying flowers. But I was naturally a bad gift giver, you could ask any of our closest friends. They would all recount a similar nightmarish scenario involving my inability to understand the basic mechanics behind the concept of exchanging gifts.

“Join me in the bedroom,” Jisung eventually said, gathering our plates together while I tried not to hyperventilate.

I stood up to fix my skirt, returning to the foyer to find the cake and flowers waiting for me mockingly. I grabbed both meager selections, managing the walk of shame to our shared bedroom at the other end of the hallway. Soft music played from inside and I briefly entertained the idea of a fully naked Jisung splayed out across our bed like some kind of filthy pornography.

But I probably wouldn’t get laid after Jisung saw my cake and flowers.

“Sungie,” I said, stepping inside the room only to find Jisung fully-clothed and waiting next to our dresser with hands behind his back. 

“Babe,” he said, smile contorting into a frown as he realized what I was balancing precariously between my hands. 

“I’m sorry,” I sighed in defeat. “I got you a cake and flowers but they didn’t survive the trip home.”

I gently deposited the cake and flowers on our desk. “Y/N...”

“I ruined it again,” I cried, falling back against the bed before he could finish his sentence. “Jesus, Sungie, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I tried so hard to make this special for you, but I always manage to ruin everything.”

“Baby,” Jisung said, crawling onto the mattress next to me. “What are you talking about?”

“The stupid cake and flowers!” I exclaimed, covering my eyes with my hands. “I just don’t understand,” I sighed. “I mean, I guess it’s alright, but I don’t really get why you love Valentine’s day so much.”

Jisung smiled, thumb brushing across my lower lip. “February 14th,” Jisung said. “The day Y/N told me that she loved me for the first time.”

I froze at his unexpected explanation, my next deprecating sentence dying as soon as my lips were forming the words. “What?”

“Babe,” Jisung sighed fondly, leaning down so that we were at eye level. “I don’t really care about the gifts, but I always make a big deal out of Valentine’s Day because it means so much to me. It would be enough for me if we just sat together on the couch all day and watched those sappy soap operas you like.”

I didn’t realize I was crying at his tender resolution until his fingers were carefully capturing each successive drop. “Jisung, why the hell are you determined to turn me into mush?”

Jisung chuckled, kissing my forehead with affection. “Honestly, it wouldn’t be Y/N if she was actually organized,” Jisung said, fingers carding through my hair while I leaned against his chest. “And, for the record, I actually like the cake and flowers, even if they weren’t necessary.”

“Don’t lie to me,” I mumbled against his shirt. “They’re both terrible.”

“I would never lie to you,” Jisung gasped with feigned outrage while I rolled over on top of him, planting my hands on either side of my head. “Are you interested in what I got for you?”

I nodded eagerly, allowing him to rise slowly with one hand maintaining a grip around my waist. He reached behind him for the discarded box and held it out for my awaiting hands. I gasped when I realized what was waiting inside, shimmering brilliantly under the lights. “It’s sort of like a replacement,” he said, nodding to the wedding ring I wore on my finger, compliments of a very nice discount Jisung received at the pawnshop. He had been so embarrassed when he offered it to me back then, promising to find something better in the future. But even now I made sure to tell Jisung that I loved both rings equally because they came from him and that’s all I cared about. “Beautiful,” he declared when I slipped it on next to my other ring. “Happy Valentine’s day, Y/N,” Jisung murmured soothingly.

And I sighed happily in return. “Happy Valentine’s day, Sungie.”

[cai5]

PERSONAL OPINION - Rahul Gandhi Is A Disgrace To The Nation

Let me add a preface to this by saying that this article is not sponsored by any entity, especially the BJP. These are thoroughly-researched thoughts, written by a tax paying, law abiding citizen (MYSELF).

The fact that Rahul Gandhi has been incapable of leading his party to victory during his long political innings since 2004, should be enough to pull him back to private life.

The sheer number of bloopers he has come up with in the past have even earned him the affectionate nickname ‘Pappu’.

There have been multiple occasions on which, he has completely disappeared from the public scene and taken vacations in foreign lands. How many of you knew that Rahul Gandhi was in Seoul when the nation was erupting against the Citizenship (Amendment) Act?

A decade ago, there was a shocking instance wherein, Rahul Gandhi told a US government official that the threat of Hindu radicals is much greater than Muslim radicals such as the LeT.

For those who might be unaware of this incident, at a lunch party hosted by then Prime Minister Manmohan Singh back in 2009, Rahul Gandhi told the then US Ambassador to India, Timothy Roemer, that he considers the possibility of Hindu radical groups springing up in reaction to the Lashkar-e-Taiba more dangerous for the country than some support for the LeT from a section of Indian Muslims.

As per the story, Rahul Gandhi told the US Ambassador that there was evidence of some support for the group among certain elements in India's indigenous Muslim community. However, Gandhi also warned the bigger threat may be the growth of radicalized Hindu groups, which create religious tensions and political confrontations with the Muslim community.

Gandhi said, “The risk of a “home-grown” extremist front, reacting to terror attacks coming from Pakistan or from Islamist groups in India, was a growing concern, and one that demanded constant attention.”

It was also reported in 2017 that while speaking at an event at the University of California, Berkeley, that Rahul Gandhi had said most Indian political parties were dynastic and Indian politics functioned like that.

Rahul Gandhi also had the audacity to question the integrity of our brave soldiers and security forces when paying tribute to the Pulwama martrys.

Such behavior has earned Gandhi the honor of being a "known sympathiser" of terror groups like the LeT and Jaish-e-Mohammed.

And what is truly saddening is that sensible leaders of the oldest party of the country cannot muster enough courage to ask the dynasty to leave the party helm in order to avoid future embarrassments.

Not long ago, Rahul Gandhi visited Puducherry and and was interacting with the locals, along with the Puducherry CM. One local was complaining to Gandhi about the difficult life of the fishermen community and how the government was not supporting them. The Puducherry CM, unabashedly lied to Gandhi’s face and translated the local’s complaint as ‘praise for Congress’. What’s worse is that Gandhi, after coming to know of this, did not take any action and just waited for the story to be forgotten with time.

YouTube is rife with his public speeches wherein he showcases his ignorance and lack of general awareness.

It is just sad that Rahul Gandhi and Congress, for that matter, simply tries to find a reason to complain instead of offering solutions. Congress has, on multiple occasions, openly admitted that their goal is to overthrow the BJP. A true servitor of the nation would have said that goal is to help Bharat (India).

He is openly humiliating the country by bad mouthing Indian policies to American institutions via video conferences. And Gandhi’s latest dramatics have been honestly been too much to bear:

During an interactive virtual conversation with former US Under Secretary of State and Harvard University professor Nicholas Burns, Rahul Gandhi urged the United States of America to intervene in India's domestic affairs and questioned America’s ‘silence over what is happening in India’.

Rahul Gandhi claimed that there had been a ‘wholesale capture of institutions’ in India by the BJP government which did not let Opposition parties operate with ease in the country.

"I don’t hear anything from the US establishment about what’s happening in India. If you are saying partnership of democracies, I mean... what is your view on what is going on here?" he said.

"I fundamentally believe that America is a profound idea. The idea of freedom the way it is encapsulated in your Constitution is a very powerful idea, but you have got to defend that idea. That is the real question," he added.

Why should Indians or rather, Bhartiyas, be subject to western dominance? Let me clarify that I'm no Modi Bhakt; personally, I always examine PM Modi’s initiatives, and I do believe that he has had some successes and some failures while in office.

However, running away to foreign forces to ask for help instead of having the gall to face PM Modi shows how weak of a leader Gandhi really is.

Unable to win elections and swiftly sinking the state of the party, Gandhi is now seen to indulge in murky games by asking foreign countries to undermine Prime Minister Modi.

Asking foreign powers to intervene in its domestic affairs is something that Bharat (India) has always resisted and rightly so. Any genuine servant of the nation, always knows that foreign intervention always undermines a nation’s democratic integrity and undermines the self-esteem of its citizens.

Rahul Gandhi needs to work diligently in rebuilding the party and aim to create a vibrant and responsible Opposition. That takes a lot of hard work and if the roughly 17 years of Gandhi’s political career have been any indication, he seems incapable of measuring up to the task.

I hope I wasn’t ranting endlessly during this article. I just had a strong innate feeling that this should be put on the Internet. I am only putting this in my small and humble space. I don’t know how many people will even read it, but I simply wanted to let the world know of my perspective.

[bangtanblurbs]

abyss

song: abyss by jin

first experience: as a relatively new song, i remember clearly abyss’ drop. 12/2/2020 - several months into whatever quarantine had come to mean by that point, thanksgiving had just past and christmas was coming up in a matter of weeks. those few weeks between the holidays often pass by in a blur for me. holidays are hard. they’re not the romantic times they always were when i was a child. once again i’d been sitting at home in my tiny studio apartment, freezing, trying to crank through work and school obligations. i can assure you my headspace was less than great, between the cold, the holiday season, the deadlines that had piled up... abyss dropping was the perfect medicine for how i was feeling. 

feelings: when i listen to abyss i can’t help but feel emotional. of course. naturally the accompanying note that came with abyss was heartbreaking enough. but at the same time, the song feels like home. it feels like walking into my apartment after a long day and slipping into my favorite hoodie that desperately needs to be thrown into the wash. the familiar feeling brings about warmth despite the sobering reality that i’m still here, by myself, slipping into my ratty clothing and climbing into bed to disassociate from the self-hatred, stress, obligation, and grief i carry daily. the reality is, listening to abyss is like listening to my inner voice. i’m not saying i understand jin, or any of the shit he’s obviously gone through and dealt with in his very colorful life, but i feel close to him whenever i put the song on. i feel like as i grow older - i grow into myself - i grow into the pain i’ve harbored for years now. while i sometimes feel like i’m drowning in the abyss, at least i have the comfort that my feelings aren’t as alien as they seem. especially for someone who has been fortunate in life in many ways - this song shows me that i’m still *allowed* to hurt. i’m still allowed to carry my pain and feel it flow through me. 

i must also say, that my heart broke many times know that jin feels the emotions that abyss conveys. the self-doubt, the anxiety... how we all must wish we could wash it away. i only hope with all of my heart that he’s been given time, space, and resources to process his emotions fully. i can’t imagine carrying what he’s carrying and having the schedule he has. bless. 

personal connection: as alluded to, i’m not the most stable person. i can post happy photos online, i can breathe my idealism into others, i can love with the full capacity of my heart - but i have plenty of demons. i’m not sure where they came from, i noticed them around the time i became a teenager - that sinking feeling that all aspects of my existence are ugly, undesirable, annoying. these demons have never gone away. no matter how much i strive for my dreams, no matter what i accomplish, the amount of solitude that exists in my life allows for the cracks in my heart to rip open forcefully. 

it’s this very thinking that limits me. i don’t believe in myself. i don’t really believe in anything if i’m being honest. everything feels dark. there’s ups and downs. much how jin describes in the song - i desperately want to be a part of a more vibrant existence. i deeply want to connect with others, but the anxiety, the self doubt, the hatred i harbor, they’re paralyzing. simple tasks - texting a friend to make plans, following through with plans, speaking in a group setting, advocating for myself, they’re all things i’d rather shut the door on. vulnerability? i can’t open myself up for any more pain. in my mind, i’d rather retreat to the darkness, convincing myself i’m not worthy of taking another’s time, space, efforts. and i get overwhelmed, the feelings that jin is describing perfectly - having someone take an interest in me - having someone show me love... it feels false, it takes my breath away, only makes me question more. it makes me wonder how long i’ll indulge them before i push them away and move to my own abyss. 

in abyss jin isn’t even talking about another person. he’s speaking to himself. there’s not a romantic or even friendship he’s speaking of in the song. it’s more about like - is it okay for me to feel happy or hopeful? am i someone who should be allowed to meet happiness? this is something i relate to even more profoundly than the previously mentioned worries over letting new people into my life. ever since i went off to university from my kinda shitty hometown i wondered... is this life something i’m allowed to have for myself? am i worthy of it? did i do anything to deserve the place i’m at? i feel often like my work, my thoughts, my actions -- they’re not enough to place me in some of the places i’ve been lucky enough to have a seat. these doubts can cripple me with inaction and keep me chained to the present, or at the very least held back from progress and moving forward. these feelings were exactly what i was going through in december. do i deserve to be pursuing my phd? am i worthy? i haven’t accomplished near what my peers have, and i probably never will... i’m not as passionate as the others i pass by in the hallways, those i share a floor with at meetings... i’m a shell compared to them. should i retreat to my abyss rather than continue to occupy space where i don’t feel i’m allowed to be? am i allowed to celebrate and feel happiness when i’m not really doing as well as i could be?

obviously this sounds like whining, it sounds pathetic. and perhaps to someone it is, but it’s the reality of my mind. it’s something i bear and it’s something i’m finally okay sharing with others. i don’t know how to overcome these emotions i harbor - but that feeling of feeling most comfortable in my abyss, in the dark, in the little world i’ve created in my lonely haven... that’s my reality. that’s the feeling that i’ve connected to when i listen to abyss. it’s those moments when you look our your window, at your phone, and you see the outside world moving rapidly in the sunlight, and you can’t help but feel you don’t deserve to be a part of it... you can’t help but know that your true place is in the abyss. the pleasure i receive from escaping reality is unexplainable. and sometimes, it’s pleasure in the fact that i’m punishing myself, putting myself in the dark and ugly place i think i truly belong. that abyss - it’s my haven. it’s my sanctuary. 

song breakdown:

musically: abyss is beautifully understated musically, but not in a way that makes it a stripped vocal song... but instead in a way that highlights the emotion laden in jin’s voice. the piano backing picks up with the song and brings in some effects along the way to highlight the emotional pauses between the heavy lyrics. its the perfect ballad. truly. the incorporation of a steady beat track at the second verse also ads to the emotions of feeling like something is dragging, the monotony of these emotions as one carries through each day. 

the dramatic pauses that lead into the verses and highlight the pure emotion carried in jin’s tone also bring emphasis to the powerful refrain in the chorus - it’s almost reminiscent of personal realizations, personal *epiphanies* one might say. that moment where you draw in a big breath and gulp it down before confronting your demons. while the track keeps it’s steady pace, it does what it should for this piece - highlights the beauty of jin’s voice, and carries the weight of the emotions in the lyrics. 

vocally: honestly, just wow. jin’s voice, is absolutely stunning in this song. completely breathtaking in the best kind of way. i say this with nothing but complete respect - jin’s vocals have done nothing but improve and grow in strength over time to the complete crisp perfection they are today. the amount of emotion he carries in his tone is also perfect to deliver such a profound ballad as abyss. i hope he knows that we can feel every ounce of truth and healing he put into the song. 

we all know jin is the high note king, but he honestly ops for more of a storytelling vibe in this song, keeping within his lower register throughout the verses. it really isn’t until we are mid-chorus that we get the breathtaking high note during the line “ 잠기고 싶어 가보고 싶어.” this is perhaps the most profound lyric of the chorus as well, since it’s the moment in which jin expresses a desire. most of the lyrics up to that point explain a state of being, his emotions, but at this point - he is almost calling out his desire. his painful desire. to stay lost within in his abyss. it’s painful and stunningly beautiful at the same time.

the genius of the entire song was jin delivering abyss in a way that we don’t always hear him sing in BTS songs. the buttery smoothness of his voice is on full display, with no need to stay in his high register for long we can really hear the weight in his tone, the pleading in his voice, the sincerity. it’s sobering, and it’s powerful. and i must say, i can’t wait to get more songs like this from jin in the future. i hope he continues to share his heart, his voice, and his talent with us. 

lyrically: oh man. this one is a deep cut. you can really feel jin’s voice throughout the lyrics of abyss. the accompanying note that he released with the song brings a lot of context and understanding to the lyrics. in the note jin explains feeling inadequate and insecure in light of the amazing accomplishments that BTS had made over the years, specifically highlighting the #1 on Billboard Hot 100. he explains that he felt like his passion and talents were lacking compared to others in music, and felt undeserving of the love, joy, and recognition he received. his emotions seem to be similar to those of imposter syndrome, feeling like he doesn’t belong in a space he inhabits and actually receives accolades for existing within. what’s more telling is in this note jin expresses his apprehension to share these sadder emotions he harbors. this song is so incredibly raw for being a place in which jin finally found a space in which to express his feelings, let them run freely and beautifully without the concern that he needed to stay strong for ARMY.

to jump right into a closer analysis of the lyrics - the song begins with a story like vibe. the first lyric “i hold my breath as i walk into my sea” brings about the image of the speaker (i apologize in advance if i alternate between speaker and jin) beginning their descent into deeper waters of the ocean. the speaker is bracing for this though, as they are the one propelling it forward with enough pacing to prepare and hold their breath. to me, this is alluding to jin knowing that he’s falling into a darker space in his mind, consciously allowing himself to slip into that space. he then moves into describing his state “i face myself who is crying beautifully and sorrowfully.” jin is describing that he’s taking account of his state, speaking to himself and seeing the distraught state that exists within his mind -- seeping into his outer appearance. 

the pre-chorus moves into a different vibe, jin addresses the duality in himself. he recognizes both the parts of himself that are strong - that can shoulder and carry the parts of him that are deeply broken and sad. “myself in that darkness / i’d like to go find him and tell him” this is jin speaking with clarity to his broken self, his rationality coming through to speak to the parts of him that are insecure and hurting. “that i’d like to know more about you today, yeah” perhaps this is jin’s way of saying that he wishes he understood himself better, that he wishes he could more confidently identify the emotions he was feeling and process them fully. the pre-chorus in my mind is jin using some clarity to check in with himself and take inventory of his state when he’s in his darkest moments.

the chorus picks up and delivers a few devastatingly beautiful and sobering lines. “still, i remain with myself / with my voice unable to come out, i just circle around him.” this is where we see the ultimate conclusion of the engagement in the pre-chorus... jin’s insecurity and pain keeps his strength from winning out. the duality in his being still exists, but in this moment it’s the pain, the insecurity, the feelings of inadequacy that have won out. “that dark place, / i’d like to be submerged in it, i’d like to go to it / i’ll be there” jin then places us back into the story he started in the beginning of the song - he’s submerged in the abyss, the darkest and deepest point of the ocean. he speaks to taking the time to really feel the emotions that he is harboring, causing him pain. while this could be a conscious decision he is making to better understand and process his emotions it’s also likely that this desire is rooted in self-loathing, a desire to self-punish for his perceived shortcomings. the pleasure that sometimes one can gain from fully feeling pain that they believe they deserve. the line about being submerged also brings about the image of an anchor in my mind - like these emotions are weighing jin down. while anchors may sink slowly (like slowly taking a breath and walking into the sea) they’re hard to pull back up -- they want to stay seated to the ground, where they belong to do their job. perhaps jin is in some ways alluding to this. either way, the chorus is about a desire to remain in the dark place, where it feels safe, where he feels he deserves to be. the final line is “today as well, i circle around you again.” which brings us back to the pre-chorus dialogue between jin’s duality - the part of him that may rationally understand that he deserves love, that he works hard, that he is worthy... but yet this part can’t seem to gain control over the darker feelings within him... so there’s this idling, this perpetual circle of inaction. 

moving into the second verse this interaction occurring within jin’s inner being continues. “the closer i get to you, the more breathless i become and the father away you feel” while this line is a bit more difficult for me to completely understand what i think he is speaking to is that as he begins to think he understands his emotions, when he thinks he might be regaining his confidence he realizes he is only scratching the surface. he realizes that there’s more to his darker emotions than he’d initially thought. perhaps he thought he was just having a bad day or feeling in funk, but then he realizes that there’s a piece of him that he doesn’t quite understand and perhaps isn’t ready to understand as the word “breathless” invokes a feeling of overwhelm. the second and closing line of the verse is “wouldn’t it be that you went deeper into the sea, yeah” invoking that these darker emotions only continue to grow, evolve, and perhaps overwhelm. he feels like he can’t quite pull himself out of the place he’s in, no matter what he tries. 

the pre-chrous as analyzed above then repeats, although the meaning is somewhat different when following the second verse. this is because the nature of the second verse is more hopeless in nature, therefore while jin would like to be able to regain some control over these darker feelings -- he’s just expressed that as he tries he finds it more overwhelming and difficult. finds himself moving further into the dark emotions. 

the final chorus is different that the previous - the lyrics change and while they continue a deeply sorrowful theme, they also bring about some hope. the first line, “still, i remain with you” is telling. jin is reminding himself that even if he feels consumed by these emotions, the other components of him still exist. he isn’t just the darker feelings that have taken precedence. he can have his confidence when he’s ready, he can maintain his duality. all aspects of jin, even if he’s feeling broken. “with my voice unable to come out, i just circle around him.” even if he feels he can’t gain control of these emotions, he can be patient with himself, he can know that there’s the potential that he can overcome, but also he knows that it’s okay in this moment to just feel. “that dark place / i’d like to be submerged in it, i’d like to go to it” this line is re-emphasizing jin’s desire to stay in the place where he feels comfortable, where he can feel his darker emotions, where he things he truly deserves to be. “today as well, like this, i close my eyes to get to you.” this is the final line of the song and it delivers a sense of comfort. no matter what, jin knows that he can be at peace - he may have these darker emotions, but he can close his eyes, he can rest and carry all aspects of his emotional state. the dark, the light, the highs and the lows. he can take his time in the abyss when he needs to. 

tl;dr? abyss is one of those songs that anyone who has struggled with self-doubt, dabbled or dipped fully into self-hatred can identify with. many people i’m sure have their own abyss. their own place in their mind where they’d like to lock themselves in - a prison of their own design that in one way might be one’s punishment for their perceived shortcomings, but also can be a paradise when a beautiful being seemingly undeserved reality feels like too much to bear. jin’s artistry both in terms of lyrics and vocals are on full display in the song - showing his amazing range and delivering a piece full of emotional tones. abyss is a stunning piece of the man’s mind and heart that i am extremely grateful to be able to experience. 

[savage-rhi]

what would higgs do if gene was like unavailable relationship-wise because we all need jealous Higgs in our lives ok

@avenged-nightmare YO. You made me think of this whole drabble when I was in the car doing errands. I think you’re right we need some jelly Higgs 😂💙

Higgs was never the type to regret much, but he could feel it twist and coil in his chest as he watched the locals in town dance to music a small band was playing. As his eyes scanned the horizon, looking over everyone’s happy-go-lucky demeanor, his gaze settled on Gene. Under most circumstances, he would have been amused watching her having fun with folks. Higgs wasn’t a social butterfly, hadn’t been for three years since he went into hiding after Amelie tried to destroy the universe and all life in it, but Gene made it interesting for him. That was until Nick came into the picture. 

Higgs was beating himself up, watching Gene and Nick from afar laughing at some sort of joke before they started dancing. The two couldn’t keep their hands off each other even if their lives depended on it. 

Since Higgs and Gene decided to rest in a settlement after escaping MULEs and needed to ration up for the delivery Eastbound, she had been with Nick the entire time. He was local, an ex-porter turned carpenter in a world where BTs no longer dwelled on earth and civilization could rebuild. A young guy in his late thirties, dark features, a muscled body, had his shit together unlike someone else. Nicks energy outshined Higgs’s charisma, and Gene took to him like a moth to a flame. There was chemistry, even if Higgs dismissed it. 

It shouldn’t have bothered Higgs. Gene could mingle with whoever she wanted. She had needs and Higgs respected that, but that didn’t tamper down how pissed off he was knowing they were joined at the hip the last three days. His mind stupidly wandered over thoughts that further aggravated his stress.  His blood constricted as he caught those little teases of the assumption his brain had conjured about the relationship brewing between Gene and Nick. 

Higgs squinted his eyes, glaring menacingly as he noticed Nick’s arms wrap around Gene’s waist, pulling her closer to him while the music went from vibrant to sensual. His blood boiled. Higgs was tempted to use the last of his remaining powers to put Nick in his place right then and there. 

“How are you holding up?” One of the locals asked Higgs, making him clear his throat as he tried to gain his composure. 

“Pardon?” Higgs asked. 

“You look like you’re close to going on a killing spree,” the man chuckled, shaking his head as he looked in the direction of Gene and Nick. The two were laughing as they swayed, their bodies perfectly synched with the music rising through the crowd. 

“You know, if you want to impress your lady friend, you’re going about it the wrong way.” The man stated as Higgs furrowed his brows, looking over him like he was a lunatic. 

“Ya’ll got the wrong idea, we ain’t an item. I’m just the bodyguard.” Higgs said, crossing his arms. In turn, the local shot Higgs a look that screamed he knew a liar when he saw one. Higgs growled, shaking his head as he looked away and back at the pair. 

“Sure doesn’t explain the crap you’ve pulled these last few days trying to one-up Nick at everything when your porter gal comes around. The arm-wrestling match, the banter, you sabotaging one of Nick’s buildings on purpose, trapping the poor guy in a ditch, trying to knock him down when he was on the portapotty before your gal caught you red-handed and bitched you out in front of everyone and their kin,” the local laughed, slapping Higgs’s shoulder as he shook his head. 

“Call it whatever you want, people can see through your bullshit.”

“Why don’t you fuck off and leave me be?” Higgs said firmly, his voice low as he looked down at the local, who shot his hands up in surrender. 

“Alright, alright, don’t get your panties in a twist if he goes in for the kill tonight cause you were too stubborn to say anything about it. I had an idea to help your little predicament, but I guess you’re too proud.” He smiled at Higgs, genuinely, then began to leave. 

Higgs sighed, rubbing his face before he hollered.

“I’ll bite! What the hell ya had in mind?” 

“Thought you’d never ask!” 

 The music settled down while the band adjusted the set. The local shoved a guitar in Higgs’s arms while he bs’d with the lead singer for a moment, talking on Higgs’s behalf while Higgs looked at the crowd. No one was paying attention, too busy enjoying their drinks and chatter to notice what was going on at the front. He eyed Nick and Gene who were taking a break, drinking together. Higgs felt his fingertips squeeze the neck of the guitar, watching how genuine Gene’s smile looked while Nick’s larger than life persona engulfed her attention. 

“Okay! You’re lucky I know the band. You get one song. Make it count,” The local chimed in, snapping Higgs out of his trance as he swallowed.

“What?”

“Haven’t you been paying attention? What song are you gonna play? You said you were good at guitar, no?” 

“Yeah, I am but--”

“Don’t get cold feet, you’re this close to serenading your girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girl you two-faced fuckin’ shit weasel--!”

“And you’re on!” 

The local grinned from ear to ear and backed off with the band members. The focus was on Higgs the moment the crowd noticed there was only one person on stage. Higgs would have given anything to punch not only the smug look but thick mustache off the guy's face as he gestured for Higgs to follow through. 

“Fuck me,” Higgs murmured under his breath, gently strumming the strings. He took one last glance over the small waves of people, seeing Gene wasn’t paying mind to anyone but Nick and his shit-eating grin. He could put a cupie doll to shame as far as Higgs was concerned. 

Taking in a deep breath, Higgs sat down on the stool the singer had been using and started to hum. His fingers tested the waters of the instrument, strumming a soft melody as his body began to move along with the beat. 

His brain was fighting with itself, wanting to focus on his envy while the other half debated on what to sing. He had no time to prepare and had never performed in front of a large crowd before. When Higgs was a porter before he threw his lot in with Homo Demens, he played here and there for associates during breaks but that was the extent of showing his talents and hobbies off. 

It was now or never. 

“Unkempt hair, unbroken gal. Strong as the rocks cuttin’ her feet. Never seen somethin’ like you. No, no, I never did. Strange creature, what are you doin’ in an untamed land?” The words broke through Higgs’s lips, voice steady like water smoothing the edges of a rock over time. 

“She crawled up the mountain to me. Her voice soft and steady, I-I don’t know why I never saw stars until that day. Those long, long days. Somethin’ about the way your hair falls in your face brings me back to a place where I could run, and never look back again. Too much spirit for me to take, she’s gone again, free of me free of sin.” Higgs closed his eyes, letting the instrument and its rustic tune speak words that couldn’t be spoken, only felt. He didn’t sense the crowd, not even Gene and Nick--too enraptured in the memories he had of when they had first met.

“Those eyes wide, that smilin’ shine makes me make a beast of myself. Come back to me, come back to the mountain and be with me. Her voice soft and steady, I-I don’t know why I never saw stars until that day. Those long, long days.” There was a pain Higgs allowed to come through his voice, his renewed feelings for life clashing with old ideals and bad habits he had spent years in hiding trying to reconcile. 

“Crawl up the mountain to me. Just a while longer, no-no-no,” Higgs briefly opened his eyes, and he swore in a single split second, Gene was staring right at him. Peering at a past reflection of Higgs that once upon a time begun to quit surviving and started to live when he first became a porter. He’d never admit how much he loved that. Not even to her. 

“Little warrior, crawl back to my mountain and be with me.” Higgs finished, feeling euphoria push down the ill feelings he carried as he received applause. He was quick to let the band go back to their routine, not wanting to steal their thunder despite how much his inner child was relishing at the moment--feeling like a rockstar for a few seconds. 

He needed air. He needed it fast. 

Higgs let out a deep sigh of relief when he exited the huge tent. His fingers shook, carding through his hair for comfort. In hindsight, he probably embarrassed himself, but Higgs wasn’t going to lie, it was beautiful getting a taste of what he could have done with his sad life. 

“Hey,” Gene’s voice broke his train of thought after a while. Higgs cleared his throat, shooting her a quick smile.

“Hey yourself darlin’,” Higgs mused. His face felt warm as she smiled back.

“I didn’t know you wrote your own material,” Gene laughed as Higgs grinned briefly, giving a playful smirk.

“You never asked.”

“That’s fair.” Gene nodded. 

“Where’s Nick?” Higgs asked, looking over Gene’s shoulder before she shrugged. 

“Probably getting more beers,” 

Higgs could sense a disturbance in Gene’s voice, and a twinge of guilt began to sink his gut. As much as he was a jealous asshole, and had been a dick to both of them, deep down Higgs didn’t want to take away Gene’s fun. He knew he was a selfish bastard, realizing it even more so than before.

“He’s probably lookin’ for you. You’re like a mother duck and he can’t stop paddlin’ towards ya.” Higgs said sarcastically.

Gene snorted, shaking her head. 

“I don’t care. I’m sure he’s got plenty of others he can entertain.” 

“Guy’s a-walkin' distraction. Hell, I thought I was a peacockin’ creep way back when. I see what folks admire about Nick.” Higgs chuckled. 

Gene smiled slightly, before taking in a breath. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“If you’re ready for a personal answer,” Higgs smirked. “Shoot.”

“That was us--wasn’t it? The song.”

Whatever grandeur persona Higgs had been putting on during this conversation lept out a window and dived headfirst into an ocean. He was silent for a long time, almost to the very second where Gene prepared to change the subject.

“It was you,” Higgs murmured. “It was all you.” 

Gene’s mouth formed into a grin that made Higgs’s knees feel heavy. Nonetheless, he realized he must’ve embarrassed her doing that whole stunt, much like he did the past few days terrorizing both her and Nick. He was surprised when he felt Gene’s lips on his cheek, her nose softly nudging his skin. 

Gene shrugged keeping her gaze down, smiling big as she walked off to their camp. Higgs watched with a look of awe on his face before he murmured a proud yes to himself. 

He didn’t have the balls to admit his growing attachment to her, the mere porter he bumped into a year ago, but Higgs owned the little victory. It was enough for him. 

**A link to my ko-fi account. If you enjoy my content and want to support me getting my monthly medication for fibromyalgia and arthritis, I would be eternally grateful. It is NOT a requirement however! All my work is free to read!**

[briefololtragedy]

Bring you the moon

Pairing: Kakashi x Sakura

Rating: T

warning: suicidal thoughts, miscarriage. I wanted to write something angsty.

Summary: Sakura didn’t recognize the person staring back at her anymore. She was sick of being a burden. 5 months she hasn’t been herself, she just wanted to feel again.

word count ~1300

The thunder rumbled in the background, followed by a flash of lightning that illuminated the bedroom. The skies were weeping today. Sakura thought that they came to finally swallow her up in her misery. She didn’t have the energy to get out of the bed. In all honesty with herself, she didn’t have the energy for very much anymore. 

It felt like an eternity since it happened. There was so much blood, even as a medic she didn’t know how that was possible. She studied the human body. Has seen men bleed out due to war. Had to console a genin on the start of womanhood when she got her first period, her mother having died during the war leaving a clueless and heartbroken father. However, seeing that much blood come from herself...she didn’t know what to do. 

Sakura buried her head further into his pillow, taking in the earthy scent that brought her comfort. Well it usually brought her comfort. Now it reminded her of yet another person she has let down. There was a pressure at her back, he had left Pakkun to keep her company while he had to go into the Hokage office today.  The tears started to slowly fall onto the sheets, mirroring the rain as it falls from the heavens down the buildings onto the ground. Sakura thought she had gotten past all the crying when she was younger. She was stronger now...was stronger. All the strength has left her body. She wasn’t even sure if she had bones to hold her up, she felt empty. 

Summoning whatever remaining wisp of strength she had Sakura got out of bed. Venturing into the bathroom she looked at the toilet and shower, flashing images of blood assault her eyes. She can feel herself tremble, bracing herself on the sink. Sakura braves a look into the mirror.

Who is the woman staring back at her? What happened to her? 

Her eyes were sunken in. Skin was paler, a ghost would jump in fright. Dark circles… representing the punch in the face from the universe. She hadn’t bothered to cut her hair in a while, she was going to let it grow. Her hair started to grow faster before the event happened. Now it reached mid back, it was stringy, lackluster. 

No longer was the vibrant, happy, strong, intelligent person she had once known looking back at her.”You’ve become a burden lately...” Sakura is talking into the mirror , her voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t handle it anymore.” The tears are like a waterfall. Next thing she knows she is punching the mirror. 

She feels. For the first time in a long time, she feels. Looking at her hand she sees the cuts on her knuckles. The blood is slowly flowing down her hand. Part of her doesn’t know why she grabs the shard of glass. The jagged piece in her hand, the weight comforting. 

Sakura just wants to feel or wants it all to end. She doesn’t want to be a burden anymore. Doesn’t want to let everyone down. Happiness wasn’t in the cards for her. Sakura goes to move the glass to her throat. 

Before she knows it there is a pressure holding her wrist. 

“Ka-Kakashi..” Her voice is broken, sobs taking over. 

Kakashi takes the glass from her hand, embracing her. The embrace is almost crushing, but the pressure starts to bring her comfort. She has always marvelled how she just fits into him. She is tucked into his chest. Kakashi’s head is resting on hers, one of his hands is now running up and down her hair. 

“I…” Kakashi has to stop and pause. Sakura can tell he is barely holding it together. 

“Pakkun came to get me the moment you went into the bathroom. He said you weren’t acting right...I knew I shouldn’t have left you today…. I tried to tell Shikamara.” His voice trails off. 

The guilt eats at Sakura. Kakashi has more important things to worry about. Why couldn’t she be strong for him?

“You need to go to work. I shouldn’t keep you from it.” Sakura doesn’t want to move. She feels warm. His pillow doesn’t hold a candle to his actual smell. Her arms have gone to wrap around his waist, she couldn’t let him go. 

She knows that he has been hurting too. Today would have been her due date. They were going to have a baby. She remembers the joy when she told him. Sakura had his ninken help with the announcement, all of them wearing shirts that said “baby makes 11.” 

Everything was going well...then the 20 week check up happened. Well she didn’t make it to that point. The morning of her appointment she took a shower when something felt off. There was so much blood. She almost passed out, but was able to sit down on the toilet. Her frantic cries for Kakashi. At that moment she wasn’t a world renowned medic. She was a soon to be mother, watching her dreams leave her body. She was a wife who ...who lost their baby. 

He held her through the news. Both of them were crying when Tsuande confirmed what she knew. Its been 5 months since then. Kakashi has been her pillar of support through it all.  

“You know there is nothing more important than you.” His voice was almost a whisper, he was barely holding back his own tears.

Sakura couldn’t take it anymore. She was sick of holding him back. 

“Why? Why do you stay? Why don’t you leave, find a person who isn’t a burden? “ Kakashi was shocked when she shoved him. She had become frantic. Kakashi was just there, sitting on the floor looking up at her. 

“You support me, cry with me. You have to put up with me. Why don’t you find someone else? There are many women who would want you, who could … who could give you a child.” Sakura was shouting over and over. Finally after 5 minutes she had settled down some. She didn’t like looking down at him. Whatever strength that she had left her, so she found herself sitting on the floor. Sakura brought her knees to her chest and hugged herself. She didn’t understand. 

Kakashi’s face softened. A flash of disappointment. “There is no one else I would rather be with. There is no how to manual with life and pretty sure we wouldn’t follow it if there was. At times it seems like we weren’t meant to be. There were so many barriers. The moment I realized I how deep my feelings for you were, that it may be something more, we were plummeting into lava. It wasn’t my life that I saw, but you. All the moments I had with you and knew I wanted more. You punched a god! Then got your heart broken time and time again, only to forgive. You have put everyone before yourself, look at your clinic. I ask myself how I got so lucky. I never imagined myself having children, but you and me that is more than I could ever ask for.” Kakashi let his tears fall. 

They ended up laying on the floor of their bathroom. Kakashi was tracing circles on her back as she returned the favor on his chest. 

“I know Tsunade said we can try again, but… I want time… I want time to mourn, to find who we are again. I don’t like who I have become, this isn’t me. Can we take time to just be us again?” Sakura couldn’t help but hide her face from Kakashi. She was worried he would be mad, that she didn’t want to try right away. When she felt his hand tilting her head to look at him, she braced herself. Instead of anger, they were filled with relief. 

“You could ask me to bring you the moon and I would find a way. What you ask now is the easiest thing you could ever ask of me.” 

[dreams-of-kalopsia]

The Logic of Them

Summary: On Pidge’s graduation day, Lance hands her a tablet with a video that would change her life.

A @plancesecretsanta 2019 fic for @ursamiiinor. Merry Christmas, Dia! Sorry for the delay. Here’s your college AU gift fic! ^u^

Read it on AO3.

----

Lance handed Pidge a tablet, and she stared blankly at the device. “What do I do with this?”

He arched his brows at her. “What do you usually do with tablets, Pidge?”

“A lot, so just tell me which one I should do.”

“Everyone wanted to congratulate you,” he finally explained, securing a pair of earbuds in her ears before taking the seat beside her. “I compiled their greetings into one video since most of them can’t make it today.”

“Oh.” Pidge edged closer to Lance and gave him her other earbud so they could watch the video together. She was excited to hear from everybody again.

Two years ago, Shiro had qualified as an astronaut candidate and had left to train for space travel. While she heard from him regularly, and while she also got updates on his training from Matt, who’d become an astronaut before Shiro, she still looked forward to seeing how he’d been.

Meanwhile, Hunk had returned to his hometown last year to apply everything he’d learned about green engineering. Same for Keith and Allura. Only Lance had stayed from their batch, and only Pidge, a year younger than them, was left to graduate a year later.

The video started with everyone—from friends to family—in their video squares, congratulating her for graduating. She beamed instantly. All the people she loved, close at hand despite being far away.

Keith’s square zoomed in to its full size.

He frowned at the camera. Or the one behind it, most likely. “I go first?"

Pidge heard Lance’s hushed “Yeah. Just go say something.”

Keith huffed, crossed his arms, then began: “Pidge and Lance aren’t the typical couple. They don’t hold hands. They don’t go on dates. They’re literally best friends who label themselves as a couple. Their announcement was so sudden it didn’t even sink in for five minutes.” He glared. “Who announces something like that as if they’re just going out to get food, anyway?”

“Did it seem like that?” Lance asked from behind the camera. She had the same question in mind, so she tried to remember that moment.

* * *

Even though she was focused on editing a code due in fifteen minutes, Pidge could feel Lance’s nervousness rolling off of him from the couch across from her. She couldn’t understand why he was so tense; she was pretty sure they’d been obvious with their feelings these past few months that the others wouldn’t really be surprised. Still, she shot him a reassuring look, knowing that that would calm him down. It did, as always. It practically worked like a charm.

He called everyone’s attention with a “Hey, guys?” She felt him falter. She glanced at him and met his questioning eyes. “Let’s tell them, Pidge?”

“Sure.” Another reassuring look his way, and she was lost in her code again, typing at full speed to meet her deadline.

“Tell us what?” Hunk asked absently between chewing noises.

“We’re in a relationship now. Well, have been for two months.”

Pidge didn’t notice the complete silence until she’d pressed the enter key to send in her work. She looked up then, finding astonished, dumbfounded expressions on everyone’s faces and utter confusion on Lance’s—an expression that no doubt matched hers.

“What?” she asked, her question reverberating in the still silent living room of Shiro and Keith’s shared apartment.

“What?” Allura asked back.

“What ‘what’?” Lance asked back, too.

And they all stared at each other in more confusion.

* * *

“And yet,” Keith continued, recalling Pidge from her recollection, “somehow, they made sense.” He smiled, and the video switched to Hunk.

“I introduced them,” Hunk said smugly, making her chuckle. His grin was as bright and warm as the summer view behind him, if not more. “Pidge and I were classmates in this course that required a thesis-level project—I mean, who does that?! Our university, apparently, but I digress.”

He shifted in his seat, his eyes twinkling with excitement. “So. Eve of our deadline and we’re stressed out of our minds. Local pizza shack about to close. What did I do? I snuck her into our dorm. My best mate and roommate Lance—bless you—”

“Thank you,” came Lance’s distant voice.

“—opened the doors from inside after curfew, quick introduction, then Pidge and I were back at work. Aaand…” he drawled. “I don’t know if she’d ever realized, but the nickname ‘Pidge’ wasn’t actually ‘Pidge’.”

“Oh no. No no no no. Hunk, don’t say another word,” Lance’s disembodied voice had taken on a warning tone that Hunk, as his best friend, easily disregarded.

“Pidge, you hearing this? That night you met each other and you had your full snark on? He called you a bi—” A hand, obviously Lance’s, clamped over Hunk’s mouth before he could finish.

The video switched again, showing a slightly disheveled, post-laughter, but more formal Hunk. “I’ve been informed that some very important people might be viewing this. I apologize for the rowdiness you witnessed a few seconds prior.”

Pidge paused the video to smirk at the not-camera Lance by her side. “You dared call me something remotely derogatory, Lance?”

His face paled a bit before darkening with a blush. “W-We didn’t have the best first impressions of each other, Pidge.”

When he avoided all her efforts to establish eye contact, she burst out laughing. “Don’t worry, I knew from the start.”

“Wh-Really?”

“Anyone with clean ears will pick up on your noisy grumbling, you know?”

“Oh. Sorry for calling you that, Pidge.”

She shrugged. “It’s fine. The nickname that came from it stuck, anyway.”

He grinned at her, then motioned for her to continue watching.

“For people as dramatic as Lance and as explosive as Pidge, they sure are quiet as a couple. They’re honestly the most boring couple out there.”

“Hey!”

Hunk’s hands went up in a placating gesture. “Hey, don’t get me wrong, man. You guys are two of the coolest people I know. But nothing ever happens with you two! Remember that time Pidge got her appendix removed and she was coming out of her anesthesia-induced coma?”

Pidge tried to recall it. There wasn’t much that happened; the surgery was a success, and Hunk was the first person she found upon waking up, watching over her from a bedside chair.

“Pidge asked where you were, and I thought she was still loopy from the anesthesia so I said, ‘Who do you think gave you your heart?’ And she just stared at me blankly in her trademark way that told you she can’t comprehend what you’re saying, so if you can please say something with a minimum IQ level of one hundred. Then she said with perfect articulation, ‘I had an appendectomy, Hunk, not a heart surgery.’” Hunk looked at the camera, at her. “You could be in the middle of a brain surgery and still hack into the national security systems.”

Laughter bubbled right from her belly. She missed Hunk and his humor so much.

“Anyway, so I told Pidge the truth that Lance was out getting food for her visitors, and then she fell asleep on me. Hence my point stands: boring couple.” He sighed and shook his head in mock disappointment.

What he didn’t know was that his joke had a delayed effect on Pidge, because she could remember bawling when she saw Lance for the first time after her surgery.

“But if boring means no drama means stable, then it’s a blessing that my best buds have the most boring relationship ever.”

With one last salute from Hunk, the video showed Shiro next. Pidge’s chest swelled with pride upon seeing him in a NASA shirt. Like her father and brother, he wore the brand well.

“Lance and Pidge argue often, but rarely do they fight. When they do, strange things happen. Trees in the College of Engineering would seem less vibrant, and the fountain near the College of Letters and Science would stop spouting water. Thanks to Hunk’s talent for goss—” Shiro caught himself, smiled sheepishly, and corrected, “—storytelling, it has since become an urban legend that when the fountain suddenly dries up and the trees along the path to Engineering look like they’re wilting, a student from either college got into a fight with someone they really love from the other college.

“The simple and logical explanations for these rare phenomena are that tired students have altered perceptions of their surroundings, and that the malfunction in the fountain’s pipes just happens to coincide with the equally rare times that Pidge and Lance fight.” He leaned in towards the camera with a conspiratorial smirk. “Here’s my secret though…” He paused, and Pidge held her breath in anticipation. “I don’t think the real explanation is as simple or logical as that.”

The next person to appear caught her off-guard. He wasn’t in the opening greeting, so she figured he was a last-minute addition. It didn’t keep the smile from tugging at the corners of her lips, though.

It was Dr. Smythe, her thesis adviser.

“Pidge—no, Katie Holt, or as I prefer to call her, Number Five, as my fifth consecutive award-winning undergraduate thesis advisee,” he said as a long preamble, stroking his mustache in his own way of preening, “elevates everything she does to unprecedented levels: her classes, her thesis, her contributions to our academic research, her overthinking, and her neglect of herself when in pursuit of something that piques her interest—unintentional, I’m sure, but neglect nonetheless.” Even though she’d just shaken her adviser’s hand as his friend instead of his student not three hours ago, Pidge felt scolded like a kid.

“Worried as I was for her well-being her whole thesis process, I did something unforgivable for an adviser to do!” Dr. Smythe took a dramatic breath that had Pidge’s heart stopping in shock. “I withheld information from my protégée!”

He did what?! Would it affect her thesis, her graduation, her future prospects?!

“I told her there was no way to cut the runtime for one of our computers, when in fact she could have cut it down by a third, or even half! Ah, forgive me, Number Five!” He grabbed the camera by the sides and cried into it in all his genius eccentricity. “I did it for your sake! You never take breaks outside of that waiting time; it was the only time your lover could help calm your nerves!”

Pidge felt her face heat up.

“‘L-Lover’?!” Lance sputtered. The camera’s angle straightened; Dr. Smythe must’ve let go of it now.

Her adviser leveled an odd look where Lance was off-cam. “Yes! Aren’t you her lover? You’ve been lurking outside the labs the whole year.”

“Ye—I mean—To call me that so directly…”

Dr. Smythe pulled on his mustache once. “Get used to it, young man.” And then the video switched again.

It was an abrupt ending for her thesis adviser’s part, but Pidge all but forgot about him when she saw Allura beaming at her.

“Hi, Pidge,” Pidge’s best friend and only childhood friend greeted with a wave. “Congratulations again on graduating. Oh, I miss you so much!” Pidge’s fingers traced Allura’s face ever so lightly on the tablet. She missed her friends—her family outside of her family—so much it almost hurt. “I’ve been asked to say something about you and Lance as a couple.”

“Something good, preferably,” video-Lance quipped, earning a laugh from Allura. She glanced somewhere off-center, probably at where Lance had been filming.

“Alright. Something good, then. Some thoughts I’ve kept in my heart for as long as I’ve known you both.

“You couldn’t be more opposite to each other—gods know how you damage our ears with your bickering. And yet you work perfectly together when it mattered most. You balance each other out. Lance, you lift Pidge up whenever her realism bordered on pessimism. Pidge, you tether Lance whenever his head starts floating to the clouds with his easygoing optimism. Lance is the people-person—I’m sure we all agree on that?” Allura confirmed, teasing eyes looking straight at the camera. Pidge giggled and nodded. “While Pidge understands the world, and perhaps even the universe, at its core.

“Pidge learned from a young age how to build walls to defend herself from envious people who want to drag her down. But Lance, with your big family, you’ve learned how to deconstruct them in order to connect with others.” Allura’s eyes welled with tears, and Pidge’s mirrored them. “You’ve met and challenged Pidge on all levels, Lance. I’m so happy she’s finally found her match in you.”

The camera caught a sniffling sound. “Thanks, Allura.”

Allura’s video cut off with her smiling and dabbing her cheeks with tissue.

Lance’s parents came next, congratulating Pidge enthusiastically and inviting her to their home for a graduation feast.

“Our son brags about his many former girlfriends, but… you are the only one he has ever taken home,” his mother said, the gleam of mischief in her eyes.

“Mom!” Lance whispered harshly. “You gotta give a better message!”

“Let me try.” The camera shifted a bit to focus on Lance’s father. “Our son has had trouble finding his place, being the youngest among his siblings. He told us that you put him in his place, when you met. He said because of that, he found his place and could finally move forward.” The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened as he smiled. “Thank you, Katie.

“Is that good, son?”

“Yeah… Yeah. Thanks, Mom. Thanks, Dad.”

Pidge could see where this was going—or at least, where it could possibly go. The montage of everyone congratulating her at the start may just be a façade. But since Lance was still in his seat, not fumbling for a tiny box or kneeling on the ground, she couldn’t be sure.

That was until Matt’s face appeared. Then her tears started falling. Because this was her family next. Whatever they had to say about her and Lance would greatly affect their relationship. This was their time to frankly voice out their issues with either of them, and yet Matt was grinning.

“You got me at a good time,” he told the off-cam Lance, who chuckled.

“Three days before launch. I’d say I’m still great at crunch time one year after graduating.”

Matt laughed before turning to the camera. “Hey, Pidge! Congrats on graduating!” His smile turned apologetic. “Sorry I can’t be there to watch you walk on stage and shake hands with people you’ve probably never met your entire college life.” He stopped and waggled his eyebrows expectantly; he knew she’d laugh at his joke. The apologetic smile returned. “And sorry for taking Dad here with me. We need his supervision for the new docking procedure we’ll be trying out. Give Mom some space hugs for me, will you? And if you ever need advice… you can consult Dad’s favorite book any time.” He winked, and she received his secret message successfully.

“Okay. On to matters I’d rather not talk about.”

“Matt!”

Matt’s carefree guffaw made Pidge’s heart ache for her brother’s presence. She mentally calculated the time elapsed since his crew’s launch. Their rocket should be orbiting Earth right about now, preparing to align with the International Space Station.

“I would never forget your first dinner with us. I can tell you really wanted to impress us with your research in the fields we specialize in. But that wasn’t what ended up impressing us. It was how you managed to hit on Mom after you ran out of things to talk about regarding our specialties.”

“It wasn’t on purpose!” Lance protested, and though Pidge couldn’t see him, she knew that the Lance behind the camera was blushing hard. She glanced at the Lance sitting next to her, sending him an amused—albeit tearful—smirk. He returned a sheepish grin.

* * *

“You’ve gone silent, Lance,” Mom said as she sliced her steak.

Lance stiffened. Pidge knew how much he wanted to leave a good impression on her family. So far, so good. Everything they’d rehearsed, as well as the crash course she’d given him, was paying off. But for some reason, he didn’t seem to think so and had stopped participating in conversations.

“Oh, um…” He swallowed, drank water, then swallowed again. “M-Must be in my genes to be speechless in the face of beauty,” he blurted out in one breath.

The whole table went silent. Awkwardly silent for a full ten seconds. Lance’s face was dark with mortification, Pidge’s family was sitting thunderstruck by his response, and Pidge was starting to wonder if organizing this dinner had been a mistake.

But then Mom and Matt burst into laughter, Dad following suit.

“Sorry, son,” Dad said, regarding Lance a little more warmly than a few seconds ago. “Colleen is spoken for. May I introduce you to my daughter Katie instead?”

The wide smile that spread across Lance’s lips seemed to chase away his embarrassment. He looked at Pidge with bright eyes, and her heart temporarily forgot its rhythm. “I’d love that, Sir.”

* * *

“I know,” Matt assured with a chuckle. “But that accidental thing showed us that you specialized in your own field, too. In building connections with people.

“Pidge—Katie has never been good at making friends. I think only Allura was stubborn enough to get through to her, and it took years. You changed that. You helped my sister expand her world. Now, you mean the world to her.” He directed a kind smile slightly to the left. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you are her world.”

His eyes softened, then he stood from his seat, opening his arms. After a few moments, Lance appeared on-screen to return the hug. The sight brought fresh tears to Pidge’s eyes.

“I leave her in your care, brother,” Matt said. “She’ll probably argue that she can take care of herself. She’s right about that, but it’s still reassuring to know she’s in good hands either way.”

Lance sniffled twice before replying, “Thank you, brother.”

Matt clapped Lance’s back. “No problem. Now let’s look for tissues before the staff suspect you’re infecting me with colds.”

They both snickered.

When the video switched to her parents’ smiling faces, Pidge’s hands became damp with sweat and her heart began to pound. She knew they’d already given Lance their blessing, seeing as this video existed, but this would be the first time she’d be hearing what they thought about her relationship with Lance.

The first thing she noticed was their clothes. They were wearing the unexpectedly awesome sweaters Lance’s grandmother had knitted for them last Christmas. A lump formed in her throat at the realization; she had to lower her voice so she could still speak with words instead of inarticulate sobs.

“How long have you been planning this?” she asked, eyes not straying from the screen.

“A while,” Lance answered just as quietly.

“Congratulations on your graduation, Katie,” Mom greeted.

“We’re so proud of you, Katie. So proud,” Dad added.

“You must have figured out what this video is really for by now,” Mom continued, to which Dad nodded.

“You must have deduced that we’ve given our blessing as well.”

“All that’s left for us to do is endorse this young man…” At Mom’s cue, Lance peeked from the corner of the screen and waved. “…to you.” Pidge glimpsed the obvious signs of nervousness on his face. It carried over to her as she waited for her parents’ “endorsement” of Lance.

“Lance came from a completely different background from us. He didn’t know anything about astrophysics, molecular biology, or computer engineering more than any other layperson did.” Pidge winced at Mom’s knowing smirk. “Don’t try to deny it, young lady; we know you two planned out what he would be talking about with us the first time he came over.”

Dad chuckled. “Lance hadn’t always been able to keep up with our discussions, but he was always willing to learn. He strived to see things from your perspective and understand you better. I’ve never seen you more patient than when you would explain a concept to him, Katie.” He glanced at Lance. “I’ve never seen a more receptive student, either.”

He redirected his gaze to the camera, smiling gently at Pidge. “You told him about the universe, showed how galaxies worked, demonstrated gravitational forces, and explained why the sun, moon, and stars existed. I hope you wouldn’t wonder too much how he realized he has fallen into orbit around you.”

Lance’s hand slipped into hers as the video faded out. Pidge felt something press onto her palm. She felt a ring press onto her palm, and she almost started crying again. Instead, she took a deep, shaky breath to calm the tumult of emotions within her. Lance remained patiently quiet by her side. They watched the flock of graduates and guests in front of them in the meantime, the cacophony of congratulations and goodbyes and promises to keep in touch filling the silence between them.

“You’re not getting down on one knee?” she teased eventually, once she was confident enough to speak.

“I could,” he replied, “but do you want me to?”

“No, actually.”

“Thought so.” She could hear the mirth in his voice. The sound calmed her down further.

“Everybody won’t be satisfied with anything less than showy, though.”

He hummed in thought. “I’ll consider it.”

“Maybe they’ll even make you do something Matt and Shiro will see from space.”

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “It all depends on your answer.”

She turned towards him, willing him to meet her eyes. “You already know my answer.”

When he did, she was struck anew by how his eyes shone with everything he didn’t need to tell her out loud, and how they regarded her with understanding, and how absolutely, breathlessly beautiful they were. “I want to hear it anyway.” Like the hue of a clear day. Like the shade of a calm sea. Like the color of love. “Will you marry me, Pidge?”

Pidge twined her fingers around Lance’s, beaming up at him. “You know I will, Lance.”

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Writing Excerpt From Today

(Did you know I also write fanfic in Sarah J. Maas’s ACOTAR universe? I am currently working on A Court of Exile and Reclamation, sequel to my previous completed longfic A Court of Lies and Resurrection. This is an excerpt from the chapter I am working on for ACOEAR)

Lucien stared around in surprise as they winnowed not into the Dawn Court itself, but somewhere else entirely.

It wasn’t Day Court, either - some space between places where the world had the hazy, pinkish light of a new sunrise on one side and the bright and shining blue sky of midday on the other, all of it ringed by a line of vibrant green trees that would put the Spring Court to shame.

They walked a path cut through the woods, a path that had no pebbles or sticks or sharp rocks to stumble on, only a perfect line of soft earth that gave, very slightly beneath Lucien’s boots. On either side the underbrush was a riot of wildflowers, morning glories with their petals open to chase the dawn side of the sunlight, small bushes with tiny sprays of white flowers like a dusting of snow.

The trees did not loom or lean over, as they did in certain parts of Spring where the darker things lived. This place was safe, or at least as safe as any fae land could be. Lucien could feel the weight of combined High Lord influences everywhere around him, of Thesan and Helion’s powers intertwined in this place.

This is suspiciously pretty, Ayla sang darkly at his hip. Something’s going to fall on your head, I just know it.

“Hush,” Lucien muttered down to her, then raised his head to look at Helion’s back. “How much further?” He asked, a little uncertainly. There was no way to see - the path twisted and wound through the woods, and while Helion seemed to know exactly where he was going, Lucien had been hopelessly lost within minutes. 

“Not much. Don’t leave the path or it will no longer recognize you,” Helion said cheerfully. “You don’t want that. Trust me. This might look nice but Thesan and I made some… somewhat shady deals with the creatures that own these woods to get their agreement to never touch anyone who doesn’t step off the path. Take three steps and you’re theirs, and they are not the type to kill quickly.”

With a soft happy humming song, Helion held out one finger and a bluebird briefly settled there, then flew away. 

“Wh… what type are they?” Lucien asked, staring in disbelief. 

“The last fae who did not heed my warning took six years to die,” Helion said brightly, picking a thin twiglike branch with a few green leaves off a tree, using magic to twist it into a crown that he put onto his own head.

Told you it was suspicious, Ayla sang at Lucien’s side, low menacing slightly sharp notes in his mind.

“Doesn’t matter, we can take whatever’s out there,” Lucien said softly, pitching his voice as low as he could, although it wasn’t like his sword having a sentience all its own was an unknown quantity to someone like Helion.

Or Prythian in general, since Lucien was fairly sure Lucien Vanserra’s in love with a sword was a common topic of Prythian gossip in every court in the land now.

Damn right we can, my love, Ayla trilled, song brightening immediately, and he felt himself relax at the simple certainty that no matter what happened, she was with him until his death. She’d been bound to him permanently from the moment he first fed her with blood, and had pledged himself when the mortal vengeance god that had somehow birthed Ayla into the worlds had looked him in the eyes.

Will you carry my Ayla forever?

Yes. I have my unsettlingly devoted murder-sword to the end.

The sword sang again in contentment, and he thought she must have felt some hint of his thoughts. He tightened his grip on the hilt and felt the presence that lived eternally in the back of his mind settle into quiet happiness at his touch.

Helion stepped easily ahead of him, with the comfortable leonine confidence that Lucien knew, even if this new version of the High Lord of Day - simply being kind and welcoming and not flirtatious, a Helion that was perhaps, maybe, if he could bring himself to let the knowledge sink in, his father - was nearly unrecognizable to him.

Lucien found himself suddenly so, so glad he had turned down every single offer the High Lord of Day had ever made.

Neither of them had known, then - Lucien looked like his mother, just like Eris did, there was never any good way anyone could have told the difference in parentage between them beyond maybe Lucien’s skin having a darker shade and a difference to the texture of his hair - but still he could feel the flip in his stomach at the idea that he had been fielding propositions from his father this whole time.

He’d been at the mercy of Beron his entire life, and Lucien had been hit by what felt like a wall of realization that he didn’t have to be. All the cruelty, all the anger, all the injuries inflicted on a helpless child had all been unnecessary.

[the-marvel-imagines-blog]

Madness | Chpt. 23

Chapter Title: “Keep Me In Your Heart”

Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character (Eva)

Word Count: 9,588

Warnings: Sorry, nope.

Name Pronunciations: Hjalmar: “He-all-mar” | Aaldir: “All-deer” | Ephinea: “Eh-fin-ee-uh”

Summary: Tony learns the true meaning of desperation.

A/N: This chapter has quite a bit going on, and I didn’t want to force too much Iron Man 3 scenes into this fic, so they have been cut. It felt like too much filler, so I hope no one is too upset with me. Once again, thank you all so, so, so much for reading <3

Tagged: @teddyboobear @alledeglyfunny @xletmetaste-yoursmilex @itsknife2meetu @mynameisyara @j-j-ehlby-writes @jillilama-blog (anyone who wants to be tagged can message me and ask. It’s not a problem at all)

The clouds that hid the sun were darker than I’d ever seen them. The thunder boomed around me as I made my way out of the compound to catch the remaining pieces of my suit. Escaping wasn’t easy, and I wasn’t sure if the new tech I’d installed would work or not. It was my last hope for escaping and rescuing the woman who always did the rescuing. Knowing that I couldn’t fight Killian without the entire suit, I was forced to waste precious time taking out his stereotypical villain henchmen. It felt like a movie, like at any minute the director would call “cut” and I’d be able to play the part of just Tony, a man who wanted to plant himself on a beach and just relax for a few hours. The final piece of my suit-the mask-came hurtling toward me at a horrifying speed, much faster than I originally intended.

I flinched, reaching my hand out and catching it in a surprising turn of events. I felt like a child who just choked on the baseball field, but he unknowingly caught the ball. I let out a sigh of relief, thankful for the speed that time around. I needed to find Eva as soon as possible, but I had to make a mental note to slow the pieces down for future use, or I’d be killed just getting into the suit. Right as I latched the mask into its proper spot, I grinned to myself, far more at home in the suit than just walking around, completely vulnerable. The moment the mask attached to the rest of the suit, Thor made his grand entrance along with an unfamiliar face beside him, “it’s nice of you to finally show up. What took you so long? Hair appointment?” I asked, noticing how much his hair had grown since the last time we’d seen each other. It had been some time since New York, but it definitely changed him.

Before Thor could speak, the stranger interjected, “you must be Anthony,” he said, clearly having heard something about me. There wasn’t a single doubt in my mind that he was Asgardian. He looked to be older than Thor and stood taller than the God of Thunder. I didn’t think Asgardians could possibly get bigger than Thor, but when I saw this new guy, it was clear that I had a lot to learn. The strangers eyes were filled with the same concern and fear as Thor’s, but he still looked to be calm and collected. I got the feeling that if he didn’t force himself to put off that facade, he’d fall apart, much like how I was coping with Eva’s current situation. If I didn’t have a moment of peaceful banter with someone, I was going to lose my mind. When I nodded my head, eyes wide in shock that he would know who I was, the stranger continued, looking embarrassed, “oh, forgive me. Eva says you prefer to be referred to as Tony. I’m Aaldir, Eva’s father...for all intents and purposes,” he introduced himself, clearly not wanting to waste precious time by explaining the little intricacies of their relationship.

Knowing that he was her father was more than enough for me to realize that this was serious for him. He wouldn’t have come in any other circumstance, and while it was hard to face him with the knowledge that I caused this, I knew that voicing my guilt would only be wasting time that wasn’t supposed to be wasted, especially when her life was on the line. I flipped up the mask of my suit, wanting to be as polite as possible. It was the least I could do in that moment, “while I wish we had more time to talk, more time for me to tell you all the things I find fascinating and magical about your daughter and more time to figure out what she’s told you about me, she’s in trouble, and I’m guessing that’s why you’re here,” I noted, taking in the fear-filled expression on Thor’s face. I could tell that the fear ran deeper than the uncertainty surrounding Eva’s fate, but it wasn’t the best time to discuss what that was.

With a nod of approval from Aaldir, I closed the headpiece up once more, and Jarvis’ voice sounded throughout the suit, “I ran a thorough check on the compound, but I’ve found no traces of Killian or Eva. It appears he left with her,” he informed me, his proper, emotionless voice somehow managing to convey some amount of fear. Eva and Jarvis managed to have a healthy banter whenever she was around. She treated him as if he was just as human as the rest of us, and his disembodied voice was far more chipper when she was around. It was my first real hint that Jarvis was more than what I created him to be.

I nodded my head, “thanks for checking that, Jarvis. Do we know where they’re going?” I asked

He was silent for a moment as Thor and Aaldir looked between each other. After working the magic he was known for, Jarvis piped back up, “I have the location marked for you and have figured the fastest possible route.”

I glanced between the two Gods, “it’s time to go save a princess.”

*Eva’s POV*

It was time. It was finally time to give in. The pain was unbearable. Even though the serum was healing the wounds Killian inflicted, I still felt the pain, and the fire burning beneath my skin only felt like it was accelerating the rate at which the wound on my abdomen was killing me. Perhaps it was the end. I wondered what it would be like before it happened. I’d had brushes with death, but this felt like it was the last brush. This felt like I was finally going to meet the woman I’d dreamed of for so long. Maybe I’d finally get my answers. Maybe I’d finally know for sure if the visions were true, if she was where I belonged, if she was who I belonged to. So many pieces of me tried to hold on, tried to fight the way the darkness pulled me in. I tried to remember those beautiful moments. Perhaps if I held on as tightly as I could, they would keep me afloat in the storm, but the life felt like it was being sucked out of me. I was going to drown. No matter how many memories I grasped onto, I would sink.

As my eyes fluttered closed, the darkness swallowed me, cooling my fiery hot skin. Letting go was the peaceful part, but mourning what could have been would prove to be the difficult part. For the time being, I could just exist in the void, finding peace for as long as I possibly could. I was, for a moment, nothing. I was neither dead nor alive. I was neither happy nor sad. I was just nothing, and that was where I found tranquility. For the first time in such a long time, there was no responsibility, no fear, no sense of duty, no sorrow. I was free. It was as if every worldly weight had been removed from my shoulders, and I was left like a weightless cloud just floating in the atmosphere. It was the first time I truly let go. I fought it until I couldn’t fight it anymore, until it felt like this was what was meant to be. Perhaps my death on Midgard was inevitable, but I never imagined I’d die alone. I wasn’t alone, though. I had the essence of life lingering within me, and I’d have to mourn that loss as well.

When I opened my eyes, I was laying in the grass. The gentle breeze carried the sweet smell of the leaves and trees through the forest. The green surrounding me was far more pure than I’d ever witnessed in my life, almost as if my vision of Asgard had finally come to life in my death. The grass beneath me felt so real, like I was home once more. Light laughter-small laugher-echoed from beyond the tree line that separated the meadow I was in from the rest of the forest. The tree of life and death sat in the center of the meadow, and I listened to those beautiful giggles growing closer and closer, small voices accompanying them. Then, I heard him. Loki. I sat up and watched as the colors grew even more vibrant with the sound of his heartwarming laughter. There was a golden glow to everything around me, including the tree. As I gazed up at the red and white petals, I remembered the words Thor had told me about them.

Death itself planted this tree beneath the biggest star in the night sky, and her tears watered the sapling. No one touched the sapling from that moment on, but it still grew and brought up the most beautiful forest in the Nine Realms with it. The red flowers symbolized the violence and bloodshed of death, and the white represented the purity and innocence of all life at the beginning. The reason why it never withers is because these two forces have danced together since the beginning of the universe, and it will continue long after you and I cease to exist.

Just as his words were refreshed in my memory, a small white flower from the tree landed on my lap. It was impossible. Ever since I can remember, none of the flowers had fallen from the tree. Loki and I checked every single day to find that none of them had wilted and fallen in the night. The tree never parted with the beautiful flowers in all my life, but now...of all times, it began to die. I stared up to see that white flowers began wilting and falling from the tree, landing in the grass beneath me. Still, I couldn’t help but feel calm. The laughter in the forest grew even closer, giggles filling my heart with joy and a sense of bittersweetness. This wasn’t real. This was my life’s way of letting go of all that could have been. It was time for me to mourn the person I could’ve become, the future I wouldn’t have.

Loki finally appeared from the tree line, and the sight took my breath away. In his arms, he held a child, a boy with my hair and his eyes. It was the opposite of what we always spoke of, of what we anticipated, but following him were the children we spoke of. Some of them had his hair and my eyes, some had my hair and his eyes. Beautiful girls and boys who laughed and radiated the essence of life I felt every time I connected with the natural world. One of the girls had his thin lips, another had my freckles, one of the boys had his wild black hair, one of the girls had wild red hair, like the essence of fire was born within her very soul. They were...perfect. They were beautiful. They were the embodiment of every ounce of happiness I’d ever felt in my life. When my eyes caught one set of vibrant green ones, my heart stopped beating. Her hair was the darkest black I’d ever seen in all my life, far darker than Loki’s. It was like the midnight sky if the stars and the moon refused to shine, but I could find the galaxy in her eyes. My breath caught in my throat as her every movement came to a complete standstill. She was no longer playing with the others. Instead, our eyes remained locked on one another until the most serene, bittersweet smile spread across her face, almost as if she knew-as I did-what this was. It was almost as if she was completely aware that I was dying, that I wouldn’t know this future.

“Amara!” Loki called out, gazing into the woods until another girl, who looked to be slightly younger than some but older than others, pranced out of the woods. A crown of twigs and flowers rested delicately atop her head, and she looked like me. She had my hair, my eyes, the light dusting of freckles on her nose and cheeks. The moment I saw her, my breath was taken away. Following her was Harley and Kaia, looking not a day older, “you’re just like your mother!” Loki laughed as our other children continued to play. There were...many of them, many more than I anticipated, but Loki and I always spoke of potentially having a large family. It would create a strong lineage, and we had more than enough love to spread.

Loki’s eyes caught mine in the midst of them playing, and I felt my heart burst with joy as I saw just how happy he was. This would never become our reality. I’d never be able to give Loki this joy. Maybe he’d move on and find someone else, but I knew better than that. He’d be close behind me, just as I would’ve been close behind him. This scene-this hauntingly beautiful dream-would never belong to us. He ran over to me, his body moving with just as much grace as I remembered. Falling into the grass beside me, he spoke no words before leaning in to press his lips to mine, our kiss filled with that same tender love that had always been there. Passion bled into each of us, and it all felt so real. When he pulled away from the kiss, he lingered, his forehead pressed against my own and our noses brushing against each others. He smiled, his lips brushing against my own, a feeling I’d never be able to shake even in death. He craned his neck, turning his crystal blue eyes over to them, “whenever I look at them, I think about how wonderful it is that we managed that, that we created this,” he murmured, his voice soft enough so that his words would remain between the two of us.

I gazed at them, the most frighteningly divine beauty that made it impossible to look away. Every ounce of them was every ounce of me. The love I felt for them was overpowering. I knew not the names of each of the incredible works of art before me, but I knew them. I knew their souls. The stardust coursed through their veins as it had Loki and I. We were joined together. The mere thought of them brought tears to my eyes, and I nodded, “they’re beautiful,” I noted, my bottom lip quivering as the sense of loss began to set in. It was a slow burn, but it was a burn nonetheless. I was hoping the process of mourning them would be quick and painless, just like death was. The moments preceding my death, my gentle fade out of existence, were filled with tears and pain, but the dying part...that was calming. Once the initial panic wore off, I was swallowed into the void, and it was over. The pain ended, and death claimed me. I hoped that the grief I would feel for a life lost would go by just as quickly.

Loki’s smile helped prolong my freedom from the grief for a bit longer, “they get that from you,” he fawned over me. His words made me snort and reach out to hit his arm playfully.

“Eva,” that all-too-familiar voice rang out from behind me. It was the one I’d only heard in my visions, the disembodied one I heard in the forest the night I found Aria. It was the one my heart knew even when my mind didn’t. I craned my neck around to see her standing behind me, at the edge of the forest where the meadow ended. Behind her, where the forest had merely been a dense area of woods, it was black. I couldn’t see the first line of trees. It was as black as her eyes, as dark as the hair that cascaded like a waterfall over her shoulders. Two of the girls had that hair, and while one of them had my eyes, the other looked like the woman standing before me.

Death.

*Loki’s POV*

The space in my heart that she had once taken up was completely empty, and all the pain died away in an instant. There was an emptiness that had never been there in all my years. Even when I had fallen from the Bifrost, even when Thanos tried to pull her memory from me, there was always just a pain in the place I had once held her. This was different. This was nothingness. It was as if the thread that bound us together had been broken, the thread made of stardust that she spoke of. It was like losing a piece of myself. It felt as if someone had taken the very heart from my chest, and all that was left was vacant space. Part of me knew what happened, but the other part of me couldn’t even think the words. It was typical, though. This was what happened each time I found an ounce of happiness: it was torn from my arms. This was my punishment. This was how I would be forced to atone for my past mistakes. For all the lives I took, for all the hatred and destruction that I left in my wake, for all the rage that consumed me, this was what was taken from me: everything. 

Eva, my light, my love, my life, my princess, my world...she was...gone.

The thought alone made it feel like my chest was collapsing, like my body would crumble until there was nothing left but ashes and dust. I didn’t want her to leave Asgard the previous night. I didn’t want her to go back to Midgard. Something within me wanted to beg her to stay, to forget about her responsibilities on Earth, but another part of me knew that when Eva had her mind set on something, she didn’t give up. The humans were precious to both of us at one point, and Eva’s love was never lacking when it came to them. She loved them all-every single human-with the same intensity as she loved her family and believed that with enough guidance, they could change. There were some throughout the years who disappointed her, who broke her heart, people who spread hatred and misery, death and destruction. Still, she saw all the goodness in humanity, and that goodness was embodied in the people she fought beside when I descended upon New York with an army.

Asking her to turn her back on Tony, a man we both loved since before he was even born, would be like asking her to plunge a knife through my heart. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t bring herself to abandon him. If we had it our way, we would’ve brought Tony back to Asgard as a boy and raised him as our own. He was one of the people at the center of her universe, so when he was in need, she was there. Still, if I tried to fight her, maybe I could’ve won. A serenity fell over me in my moment of grief, and I knew it was the calm before the storm, the love before the madness consumed me like it had once. My eyes fluttered closed, and I saw her one last time, a smile on those full, delicate lips, a sparkle in those emerald green eyes, starlight clinging to her sun-kissed skin, a crown of flowers in her hair. If I had known our last time together was our last time, I would’ve kissed her an extra time, embraced her for a moment longer, listened to one more heartbeat. I would’ve done one more of everything, even though it would’ve never been enough.

I love you more.

*Tony’s POV*

When I entered the tower, I was prepared for a showdown with Loki if Eva hadn’t already taken him down. She had shown herself to be far more powerful than any of us could’ve imagined. She was a force to be reckoned with, and if Loki knew what was good for him, he would’ve backed down. Eva and I had connected as soon as I met her, almost as if I’d known her all my life. Within mere moments, she felt like family, and within days, she became my favorite person. She was passionate, loving, and kind. She gave each of us the benefit of the doubt, and all I could hope for was that she wasn’t naive enough to give Loki that same courtesy. Once we found out that Tony had taken to the tower, Eva was the first to leave. Thor had been adamant that this was personal to Eva, and though I didn’t fully understand it, I didn’t want to be the one to stand in her way.

The scene I found upon entering the tower I’d begun to view as my home was horrific. It was like a scene from my worst nightmare. Eva’s body lay limp against the wall, and there was barely any life left in her. Her skin was pale, and she sat in a pool of her own blood, weakly clutching onto a wound on her side. Seeing her like that made my ears ring, made the world come crashing down around me. Memories that seemed like dreams came flooding back to me. I was sure it was only my mind's way of compensating for how deeply I felt for her. It was impossible for me to feel so much love for someone I had only known for days. It was impossible for me to love her more than I loved two of the most pivotal people in my life: my parents. I loved her like a child would love their mother, but there was no reasoning behind it. I didn’t know her. I knew how she made me feel, though. I knew how complete I was when I was in her presence, how her mere gaze made me want to be a better man, how her touch comforted me to a point where I could open up about every insecurity, every fear, every moment. She was my person, the one everyone needed, and there she was, lying on the floor, moments away from lifelessness.

My breath caught in my throat, and the world stopped turning for a moment. I couldn’t breathe, think, or even hear my own heartbeat. I could do nothing but stand and stare at the sight in front of me. It was as if my body was trying to process the pain so that it could distribute it evenly when the time came. The realization hit me like a train. This was my fault. If I had gone with her, if I’d stopped her from leaving before I was ready to accompany her, we could’ve faced Loki together. When my body allowed me to move, I scrambled over to her, falling into the puddle of blood without a single care. My hands shook violently as I frantically tried to search her body to find where the blood was coming from. She tried to speak, but her voice was weak, and the ringing in my ears hadn’t died away enough to hear that angelic voice. Pushing her hand away from the wound on her side, the blood she had been holding in seeped out and added to the puddle on the floor.

“No, no, no,” I panicked, trying to think of any way to fix this. This was what I did. I fixed things. Pulling myself together, my eyes caught a dish towel that would work better than my shirt when it came to soaking up the blood. As I tried to stand, I slipped in the blood and fell back to the floor, successfully catching myself on my hands and knees. Once I managed to scramble up onto my feet, I grabbed the towel and turned to see that she was slowly fading out of consciousness. If she fell asleep, I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to wake her back up, “Eva, no! Open your eyes!” I insisted, falling back down onto the floor with her. I grimaced as I pressed the towel to her wound, knowing how much it would hurt her. She winced, but I half expected something more. I expected a cry of pain, a grunt, anything, but she buried her pain for me. I knew the moment our eyes met that she swallowed back her cries for me. She didn’t want that to be a memory I had of her. Her breathing continued to slow, and I panicked even more. There was nothing I could do, but I tried to convince myself otherwise. Part of me wanted to accept that this was inevitable, but the other part of me couldn’t let her go. This couldn’t be it. This couldn’t be over for her, not when I finally had happiness staring right at me. I shook my head, “I shouldn’t have left you. I shouldn’t have let you go alone!” I continued to panic, knowing that her death-should I not be able to save her-would be on me. How could I live with myself? How could I go on knowing what happiness felt like? How could I live without the light?

“It’s not your fault. This isn’t your fault,” she repeated the words, trying to drive them into my mind. She knew. She knew the man I was, and she knew this would be on my conscience if I wasn’t able to pull her back. I brushed the words off, not wanting to be distracted from the pressure I put onto her wound. She reached for my hand and pushed it away, bringing with it the towel that was slowly soaking itself in her vibrant red blood-the color of a bleeding rose, “Tony,” she whispered, trying to get my attention, trying to get me to stop my desperate attempts to save her. She didn’t understand what I’d be losing if I lost her, but I did. When I pushed past her hand and reapplied the pressure to her wound, she fought against me again.

“Stop! I’m trying to save your life!” I snapped, glaring up at her, anger filling me. She didn’t deserve my frustration, my shortness. She didn’t deserve the harshness in my voice, but her insistence that I stop trying to save her was...mind-boggling. It was as if she was accepting it, but I needed her to fight. I needed her to deny death for as long as possible. I needed her to be alright. I needed her. I was drowning all my life, and she was my breath of fresh air. How, then, was I supposed to hold my head under the water again? How was I supposed to go back to the life I once knew? As the tears filled my eyes, she gazed up at me, sorrow and grief clear in hers. It wasn’t for herself, though. The grief she felt was for me, almost as if she was finally understanding what it would do to me to lose her.

A light smile-one with a beauty that would put the Aurora Borealis to shame-spread across her full lips, “there’s nothing to save. This is it,” she murmured, her voice soft as if it would ease the harsh nature of her words.

“Don’t say that! Let me do this!” I yelled, angry that she would willingly let go of her grip on life. My eyes scanned the room, and I looked for anything, any bandages or gauze, anything that would save her. She couldn’t leave me! I wouldn’t let her die! She meant too much to me at that point. The moment our eyes met in Germany when she stood beside Steve, she became the answer to every unasked question, the light in the darkness, the dream in the nightmare, the joy in the misery, the comfort in the pain, the harmony in the dissonance, the beauty in the grotesque, the love in the hatred. She was the everything in the nothing. How could I lose her?

“Anthony,” she whispered, her voice even weaker than the last time. No one called me Anthony. The only memories I had were from when I was a boy, and those memories were faded. I didn’t even know who called me by that name, but her voice matched the memories so perfectly. I froze. One of her hands found mine, and she lowered it from the wound as her other hand trailed up to cup my cheek. I leaned into her touch that was still so warm even as her hands turned cold. The tears that I had been desperately trying to fight back finally fell, “every beginning has an end...this is mine. I’m not afraid. I know what waits for me on the other side of this,” she mused as her eyes glazed over with memories I knew nothing of. She looked almost...happy? It was as if she was merely taking a trip back home.

“But what about me?” I choked out through the lump in my throat. Her green eyes filled with a bittersweet sadness that was familiar to me. Like the sound of her voice, this was another part of her that felt like a distant, vague memory. I grasped the hand that held mine away from her, dropping the towel down into the blood beneath us, “our beginning was only a few days ago! What about the middle? We didn’t have a long enough middle!” I cried, the tears falling at an alarming rate. Still, she kept up, wiping them away before they could fall too far.

She gripped my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, “whenever you feel lonely...if you look up at the night sky, you’ll find me there amongst the stars,” she breathed out, her chest rising and falling at a slower pace. Her breaths were becoming more and more labored, and each one she pulled in, I was afraid it would be her last. Even if it was, it would kill me inside to watch her die, but at least she wouldn’t go alone, I’d be by her side, holding her hand the whole way. Even after she took her final breath, I would have to be forcefully pulled from her body. I wouldn’t leave her, “you may not always see me, but I’m always there. As long as you keep me in your heart...I’m never far away,” she finished her speech, causing a flood of memories to wash over me. I knew her. I knew her voice, those words, that smile, those eyes. I knew her from what felt like another lifetime. I could see her sitting on the porch with me and dancing with my father in our living room to that old record. I could hear the static of the record when it ran out of music, but they continued to sway back and forth with each other. I could hear her singing me to sleep at night. I could remember fighting my sleep because she refused to leave until I was asleep, so if I didn’t fall asleep, she would stay longer. Her voice sounded once more as she pulled in another shaky breath, tearing my focus from the memories that left me confused and shaken, “shadows are falling, and I’m running out of breath. Keep me in your heart for a while. If I leave you, it doesn’t mean I love you any less. Keep me in your heart for a while,” she sang that song, cementing her in my memory. I didn’t know if it was just a trick that my mind was playing on me, but...I knew who she was. Whatever life essence she spoke of, ours were connected, and they had been since the very beginning.

“I can’t do this without you,” I cried, leaning into her touch, wishing and praying to every being I didn’t believe in that she would pull through, that I could have more time, “please don’t leave me,” I begged her, hoping that she could perform one last miracle and pull through.

She smiled, “nothing-not even death-could part me from you.”

It was my fault.

This was my fault.

I had been stopped dead in my tracks when we finally found her. Killian had been taken care of, but he refused to give us Eva’s whereabouts. I had been hoping for a more fitting, painful end for him, but Thor, like Eva, didn’t believe in making things suffer. I did. Thor didn’t hear the way she screamed, didn’t see her fresh blood on Killian’s hands, didn’t hear the sick and twisted things he had planned for her. I wanted him to suffer before he died, but when we finally found Eva, it was clear that if Thor had known what had happened to her, he would’ve hurt Killian in ways that no one had been hurt before. I couldn’t move a single muscle once we came upon the lifeless, pale body of the woman we all loved. Aaldir sucked in a staggered breath and fell to his knees, his eyes never once leaving the body of his daughter, but Thor had rushed over to her, tearing off the clasps that held her in place and lowering her body down onto the ground gingerly. He was far more gentle than I ever knew him to be, but I knew why.

I saw her. One Mississippi. Blood covered her-now porcelain-skin, the bleeding rose tainting the body of the woman I loved so deeply. Two Mississippi. My ears began ringing the moment Thor let out a powerful yell. Three Mississippi. His blue eyes that glowed with the lightning in his veins turned up to the sky as tears streamed down his cheeks and caught themselves in his well-kept beard. Four Mississippi. Had Eva not been...she would’ve wiped them away. Five Mississippi. He fell to his knees at her side, pulling her limp, fragile body into his massive arms. Six Mississippi. She looked like a princess, like sleeping beauty. Seven Mississippi. Thor cradled her head against his chest, weeping over her as if that would be enough to bring her back. Eight Mississippi. My eyes found Aaldir. Nine Mississippi. His eyes never left his daughters face. Ten Mississippi. No tears had been shed, but his body hadn’t moved either. Eleven Mississippi. He was more still than the marble statues men made throughout history. Twelve Mississippi. What if I didn’t look back at her? Thirteen Mississippi. Would it be real if I closed my eyes and refused to look? Fourteen Mississippi.

My eyes found her face one last time, and everything faded back to me, but it was louder than before. Thor’s desperate pleas for her to open her eyes were loud enough to burst my eardrums. Everything seemed to be too loud, too fast, too everything. There was nothing but questions, darkness, misery, pain. As the sounds bled back in, that was when the weight of the situation finally sunk in, and I wondered if it was too late to trade my life for hers. I scrambled over to her body, and Thor, sensing how great this loss was for me, allowed me to hold her in my arms. I wrapped her in my embrace, but I knew that no matter how tightly I held her, it wouldn’t be enough to make her stay. This time, she would leave, but she wouldn’t come back. She died...alone.

As the grief tore through me, I rocked back and forth with her lifeless, cold body in my arms, “Eva!” I shouted, tears blurring my vision of her beautiful, peaceful face. She looked like a porcelain doll, “Eva, please don’t leave me. Don’t leave me!” I cried, brushing her dark brown hair back, tucking it behind her ear as I always had. I shook my head, “don’t go! Wake up! Please just wake up!” I sobbed, burying my face into her hair. The smell of blood mixed with the smell of the warm summer breeze that maneuvered the trees of the forest, carrying the smell of life upon it. She always smelled fresh, clean, untainted. I tried to commit it to memory one last time, “I’m sorry, Eva. I’m so sorry.”

A firm hand on my shoulder comforted me in a way only Eva’s had, and when I realized it was Aaldir’s, I knew where she got it from. His grasp was firm but gentle, and when our eyes met, I saw how willing he was to comfort me even in his despair. His face was wet with tears as he stared down at her, and even though I couldn’t fathom a pain worse than my own, I knew that he was one of the few people who felt this loss deeper than I ever could, “she’s all I have,” I wept, my eyes flickering over to Thor, hoping that there was something he’d be able to do, hoping that there was some strange Asgardian “magic” that I couldn’t channel the way he could. He clenched his jaw tightly, his eyes still not leaving the angelic face of the woman in my arms, “there has to be something. I can’t...she can’t be dead! It was supposed to be me! It should’ve been me!”

When those blue eyes finally met mine, Thor saw my desperation. As the memories of her danced across his eyes, I watched as his grief manifested itself into anger, and he let out a feral yell. He looked up to the sky, raising Mjolnir toward the dark clouds that were merging together, and in his glowing blue eyes, I could see that he was hoping for one last miracle.

*Eva’s POV*

Loki’s presence beside me couldn’t be felt anymore, and the laughter died instantaneously. As soon as my eyes met Death’s, the joy and light was ripped from me. I scrambled up onto my feet, feeling weak in her presence. This was the woman I’d only ever seen in visions, and now, she stood before me-the essence of everything I fought against in my life, but I still couldn’t help the unsung urge to run to her. When I looked back to find my family, I saw that they had been swallowed up by another darkness. Loki and the children had all disappeared, and it felt like what life had done to me time and time again. It gave and the moment I looked away, the dream stopped, and I woke up to nothing. There was never enough time. My gaze fell back on her again, “where are they?” I asked, my voice trembling as the white flowers continued to fall.

Death’s eyes found the clear sky, almost as if she were searching for the gentlest words to convey the harsh reality, “they became what they once were-a future you won’t get to see if you come with me,” she explained, her voice like a hauntingly beautiful song. It was delicate, but it was followed by a darkness, “you are being given the chance to see what you could have if you fight...if you live. The time has not come for you, my sweet. It never will if you fight hard enough.”

I shook my head, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion, as she closed the space between us, bringing the darkness with her. It surrounded her like a mist, crawling right behind her to consume everything. Her skin was fair, a stark contrast to her raven eyes and hair. The closer she got to me, though, the more beautiful she appeared, “I don’t know what you mean, and I don’t know who you are,” I lied. While I wanted to believe differently, the visions I had were more than realistic. I knew exactly who she was and what she was to me, but I refused to believe it until I knew, without the shadow of a doubt, that she was where my life began.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me that you do not already know,” she instructed me, her body right in front of me. Not a single imperfection was upon her skin, and I was enthralled by her for a moment. This felt like the place I belonged. I knew, in that moment, without the shadow of a doubt, that she was my beginning, and she would also be my end. While I didn’t want to believe it, while I wanted to deny it, cry and scream for it to be different, a part of me had always known. She had been an unchanging melody in the background of my life since the start, and even though I wanted to hate her for all she represented-all she took from me-I could do nothing but gaze upon her beauty.

“Mother,” I murmured, my voice trembling like a leaf in the warm summer breeze.

The question I’d been asking my entire life had been answered. Seeing the tears brimming my eyes, she gave a simple, regal nod, not wanting to scare me, “and you were my greatest joy, my greatest accomplishment, the only beautiful thing I ever gave to the world, my daughter, my everything. I was blessed with two little souls-so delicate, so ethereal. Twin stars that I thought were destined to be mine. I believed that you and Ezra were to be my redemption, but fate forced my hand,” she explained, confirming my worst fear: Ezra wasn’t lying. That meant...more than what I was prepared for. My father. No. She saw the fear in my eyes and moved closer to me, reaching out and resting the palm of her cold hand against my cheek. Instinctively, I leaned into her touch, and it felt...right.

“Like me, he is a vile, resentful creature with a heart so black it could make the night look like the dawn. He has fulfilled his purpose, though. His destiny was to bring about our two children, and your destiny is still yet to be decided. Your destiny is not found in us, your destiny is found within you. That’s what you’ve been missing all your life, little one,” she said, almost as if she could see right through me. It was like she could see every fear, every insecurity I had, and she was putting it to sleep. I had searched for more than a thousand years to find her because I thought she could give me the meaning of my life. I thought she’d be able to answer every question I ever had. She was, after all, where I was meant to be. However, when I found out that the woman who gave me life was the embodiment of all I had fought against, all I had feared and loathed, I feared that I was destined to become like her. I feared that my destiny was to spread death and destruction. I feared that I’d become a person my past self wouldn’t be able to recognize.

Her eyes became impossibly darker, but I found even more comfort in them. My bottom lip quivered as I tried to hold back the tears that had gone unshed for all my life. I never cried when I was lost. I could remember how often I found myself deep in the forest, not knowing which way pointed toward home, but I never shed tears. All my life, it felt like I had been missing from myself, like I was a lost child just waiting to be found. It felt like I never belonged. I knew that I belonged with Loki, but there was a sense that I never knew who I was. There was this constant longing to be found by the people who gave up on me. Now, I stood before her with questions that needed answers, “why did you leave me?”

There wasn’t a single change in her expression. She still looked enthralled by me, as if she could possibly be mystified by a common Asgardian. I was nothing special. Still, she looked at me as if she was seeing the sunrise for the first time. I expected her to be angry or hurt-maybe even shocked-at the question I posed, but the abundance of...love in her eyes drowned out every other emotion, “when I discovered I was pregnant, your lives came before anything else. For the first time since the beginning of time, I wasn’t just Death, I was the bearer of life. Your father, Cul, was obsessed with war, destruction, chaos, and rage. Before I discovered I was with child, I saw things in a similar light, but the light within me that radiated from you and your brother, it was...life-altering. I saw myself in a more sensitive, empathetic way. I no longer saw myself as this vial monster who needed to thrive off of suffering. Instead, I viewed death as just the natural progression of life, and we would continue our dance for all of eternity.”

“Knowing your father for as long as I did, I knew that he would try to taint both of you, to use you as his weapons. After all, you two were bound to be far more powerful than either of us could’ve envisioned. He would have used you and Ezra to further his plans to spread destruction and ruin across the universe. It was the opposite of what I wanted for you, so I brought you to Asgard-his original home and the place he was banished from. I hoped it would be a safe haven for the two of you. It was the same visit I planted this tree,” she said, reaching out and running her fingers along the smooth bark of the tree of life and death, “I left you because I thought it would be what was best for you, and I think I made the right decision. Shortly after promising to keep you safe, Odin betrayed his word and gave your brother back to Cul. Cul took this as an act of peace, but he began raising Ezra to be his warrior. He raised Ezra to be the opposite of what I knew he would become, of what you did become.”

I furrowed my eyebrows, “what do you mean?”

“Do you know what the leaves symbolize?” she asked instead of answering my question. Sensing that I didn’t want to answer until my question had been answered, she explained the meaning of the leaves to me just as Thor once had, “the red symbolizes violence, bloodshed, hatred, fear, pain, grief, and anguish. In the simplest of terms, the red leaves represent death. The white, on the other hand represents purity, innocence, rebirth, serenity, love, and peace. In the simplest of terms, the white flowers symbolize life. It’s the dance you and I have taken part in since the beginning of time, a dance you have never forgotten the steps to. It’s a melody you know in the deepest depths of your heart. Death and Life, Life and Death.”

“I don’t know what you’re getting at,” I sighed, feeling like she was speaking a foreign tongue to me. I didn’t understand what she meant.

She reached out her hand as one of the white flowers fell from the branches. It landed in her palm, and it immediately began to decay, the petals turning black and grey. Before long, it had disintegrated to nothing but a pile of ash, “this is what I am. I am Death. I bring about destruction and decay. I am the keeper of the dead. This is what I am. This is what you can become,” she stressed, holding out her hand for me to get one more look at the pile of black ash that had once been a beautiful white flower. She gestured for me to hold out my hand, and she tipped the ashes into my palm. Just as quickly as it took the flower to disintegrate in her palm, I watched as the ashes began to form back together and brighten, becoming a flower once more. I watched it bloom before my own eyes, feeling a rush of emotions. This wasn’t possible. Just as the thought crossed my mind, Death shook her head, “it’s very possible. Just as I am Death, you are Life. This is who you are,” she insisted, gesturing to the flower that had bloomed even further as it sat in the palm of my hand.

“It doesn’t make sense!”

She tilted her head, “or does it?” she challenged me, “you have felt yourself connect to the very essence of the planets you’ve visited, bending them to your will. You have seen the way life and nature thrive in your presence in a way it doesn’t in any other circumstance. You have seen how your very mood can affect everything around you. You feel it, don’t you?” she asked. My heart thudded in my chest. She couldn’t know. I had spoken of it to no one. I opened my mouth to speak, to argue with her, but no words came to my aid. In an attempt to put a halt to the fear within me, her voice softened, “I am your mother. I know you. I know that life has called upon you once again, my child. Are you willing to forfeit that?”

I was quiet.

In any other circumstance, I would’ve fought harder to stay alive, but a part of me wished for this. A part of me just wanted to rest, to stop fighting, to stop worrying, to be with my brother in death. Even though Hjalmar wasn’t my blood, he was my brother. I wanted to be with the friends who had gone before me, who had taken the journey before I was ready to. They paved my way, and now, I found myself so close to all I had lost. I’d see Howard again. He’d probably be waiting with that dusty record to play our song, and he’d pull me into his arms as we’d dance around the living room. I’d sit with Charlotte as she mumbled ideas to herself, frantically writing them down before meeting my eyes with a playful grin and letting me read them. I could hug Maria once more, feel the joy and love within her from just a single embrace. I could see Bucky again. I would meet him at that dance hall, and he’d hold me in his strong embrace, reminding me of the warmth I’d be missing until Loki arrived. He would hold me close, and we’d sway back and forth with one another, my eyes fluttering closed as I rested my cheek against his shoulder, listening intently for that ever present heartbeat that could lull me to sleep. That time, though, there would be no more goodbye’s in our future. I’d have more than just our last memory to hold onto, more than just his lifeless form in the snow to remember. I’d have him again.

In my silence, tears welled up in her eyes, “you cannot stay here,” she claimed, but I knew she was wrong. I was already dead. Life had left me. It wasn’t a matter of not being able to stay here, but it was a matter of: do I fight to return? Do I fight to return to what I had in life? Or do I give in to the peace and serenity of death and wait until I am reunited with all I had left behind? Do I give up on the person I would become to remind myself of who I once was-what I once had? As a black tear cascaded down her cheek, she gazed up at the branches of the tree. My eyes followed hers, and I saw that there was only a small amount of white flowers still left on the tree compared to the abundance of red ones, “it symbolizes the death of Life itself,” she murmured, her gaze finally landing on me. Every ounce of pain I’d ever felt seemed to pale in comparison to the pain and grief in her eyes. The blackness acted as a mirror into the depths of her soul, and I saw every piece of her-the good and the bad, the beautiful and the wretched, the brutal and the gentle, the selfishness and the selflessness.

Her arms wrapped around my waist, and she pulled me close to her, a moment of bittersweetness. I melted into her embrace, and it felt...right. I threw my arms around her neck, grasping onto her as tightly as possible. In a life that was filled with questions, she was my answer. It didn’t feel like I was embracing Death, the entity I blamed for all the sorrow I felt leaving the battlefield or the entity I abhorred for taking my loved ones away from me time and time again. Instead, I was embracing my mother, the being who gave life to me, the woman who, by giving me life, allowed for me to experience the greatest joys life had to offer. I had loved so fiercely, so deeply, so endlessly. I had fought time and time again as courageously as I could. I had lived fiercely, without fear of death. She made that possible by giving me life and by sacrificing hers. I knew the pain of forfeiting, “you have no idea how long I’ve waited to hold you in my arms again, how many nights I’ve wished for you to be mine once more, how endless my pain is when I remember that I have always been the worst thing for you. You don’t belong here, Eva, no matter how sorely I wish you did,” she stated, pulling away from the embrace to cup my face in her hands, stroking my cheeks with her thumbs and wiping away the tears that began to fall the moment hers did.

My bottom lip quivered as I stared at a face so beautiful, I wondered if I’d ever be able to appreciate the sunrise again, “you have always been and always will be the most beautiful contradiction, little one: Life born of Death. For eternity, I have been forced to take and take and take from this breathtaking universe, and I was finally able to give in the form of you and your brother. There is goodness within him, Eva, and you’re the only one who can bring it out. You two are meant to bring about a great change, to tip the scales in one direction, and you get to decide. You will either be tainted by him and bring about the Great Annihilation, or he will be purified by you and bring about the Great Rebirth. Either way, you are not meant to be here. You and I were made to contradict the other, and just as I understand you, I hope that you will someday understand me. I am no longer the wicked creature that steals away your loved ones, I guide them into what comes next. I don’t find pleasure in the pain of others, but I feel joy when I can welcome them back into eternity. We are destined to continue our dance forever, my little love. Life and Death. Death and Life.”

“Let me come home,” I begged, thinking of all I’d have should she let me rest.

“You understand what you’d be leaving behind, what you’d be giving up to regain what you have lost?” she asked, fearful of my willingness to accept what she alone could offer me. She stepped away from me, breaking our connection. Her eyes scanned the meadow behind me, and she gestured for me to turn around.

Behind me stood all the love I’d be leaving if I stayed. While I had been thinking solely of what I could have back should I embrace my death, I failed to see the faces of those I would burden with my death. Bruce, Clint, Natasha, Steve, and Tony stood perfectly still. I wanted to run to them, but when I saw the sadness in their eyes, I couldn’t even bring myself to move. Tony had already lost so much already, how could I ask him to lose me, too? I was the last connection Steve had to the man he once was, and he was one of my greatest friends. They disappeared, revealing Ephinea, Frigga, Thor, and Aaldir, the only father I’d ever accept. How could I force my father to live with my death? How could I ask him to lose Hjalmar and I in such a short period of time? How could I break his soul so deeply? When they disappeared, Harley and Kaia took their places. They placed every ounce of their faith and love in me, and I would be leaving them so quickly. Then, there was Loki, my life, my love, my everything. He would understand, but...he shouldn’t have to understand this. We weren’t meant to lose each other, we were meant to go together. When Loki disappeared, the love I forfeited appeared in his place.

Loving her was my greatest weakness, and leaving her was my greatest failure.

Her.

[thesinglesjukebox]

HATCHIE - STAY WITH ME [8.08] The album's called Keepsake, and it's one we might want to hang on to...

Ian Mathers: I don't care what the lyrics say when you look them up, in the moment of listening I cannot decide each time whether "Stay With Me" starts with "it's all better, now you're gone" or "it's no better". I don't think the song can decide either. It's far from the first song to have that sort of power, just like the drum machine-and-synth, loop-and-swoop approach, while beautiful here, isn't exactly new. But I've heard dozens of songs like this (some even by Hatchie) since the last time one made me feel the way "Stay With Me" is making me feel right now. And isn't that maybe the only true miracle of pop music: that mere human beings can make "just another song," one that on the surface isn't that different than a bunch of others we merely like, and yet it can hit us just as profoundly, as heartwrenchingly bittersweet, as hopefully, as this one is hitting me right now? I could write an essay about the things in my life "Stay With Me" connects up to, people and times and places and songs, but it wouldn't make much sense to anyone else even if it wasn't incredibly, tiresomely self indulgent. But the experience I've been having with "Stay With Me" is among other things a reminder of the worth of staying connected and engaged with the world, in art as in all things, and not just going back to listen to all the things I already love instead. The chances of any other given human being having this reaction to this particular song today ("if I met you in a different moment/if I met you would I be this broken?") are small, sure, maybe even tiny. But god, I hope we all get to keep having those moments, and that we recognize the wonder of them in each other. [10]

Katherine St Asaph: I know this was written as a deliberate experiment in writing a pop song (or so they say; I too have claimed my paychecks as experiments), and thus I know the exact places the mechanics are there to get you (unending wistful chords, the yearning "Everything Is Embarrassing" vocal, with an octave jump exactly where it needs to happen), and the places the mechanics clank a bit too loud (the ending sags before the [perfect] bridge; "I'm not done / I've come undone" is kind of circular, kind of on its own nose). It's also been out for months. But the second time I heard this song it just happened to catch me at the exact moment of flood of memory, of accreted stupid unrequited crushes and breakups and failures and regrets, until I was in tears in a cab, which is really the ideal setting to hear this song. [9]

Edward Okulicz: Oh god, this hits me so hard in my heart, it hurts. "Stay With Me" would have been incredible had it been sung by someone like Foxes as a glass-shattering EDM epic, and it would have been incredible done as a shoegaze number by an alternative universe Lush, but it's also perfect as it is, midway between those two extremes. The lyrics are simple, but they're no more complicated than they need to be. It's some heavy-duty yearning but at the same time it's as light as air. I want to go dancing somewhere this is playing and stare down at my sneakers all night. [10]

Ashley Bardhan: This feels like pretty straightforward dream pop. Super soupy, drowsy vocals over a synth loop. It's very fine, very reminiscent of making out with a 23-year-old mattress boy named DYLAN. [6]

Julian Axelrod: Hatchie's ability to craft grand, immersive synthscapes is impressive, rivaled only by her commitment to pushing semi-formed lyrical conceits past the four-minute mark. [6]

Will Adams: There's a heartbreaking circularity to the lyrics ("you're the one who's won"; "I'm not done/I've come undone") that nails the sense of uncontrollable spinning that comes from an unrequited love. The vacillation between confidence and doubt, the paper-thin façade of indifference, the endless what-ifs and agonizing of what could have been had the cards fallen differently: they all add up to a devastating crush song that, despite never resolving, nonetheless sounds like a massive, necessary release. [9]

Alex Clifton: Drenched in reverb, gorgeous synths and a lovely vocal line, and feels like a beautiful dream. It sounds like the end of a movie where there's a montage of the main characters heading off into the sunset, unsure of their futures but exchanging significant looks with one another. I hope this blows up, makes it big, becomes as iconic as it sounds -- everyone needs to hear this song. [8]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: With a sturdy and prominent drum loop, "Stay With Me" brings to mind My Bloody Valentine's "Soon" and the sped-up Zeppelin sample on Chapterhouse's "Pearl." The key difference is how Hatchie's vocals are always front and center, clear enough that each word can permeate every synth pad and twangy guitar line and snappy kick drum with a melange of hopeful desperation and knowing despair. That spacious, ever-comfortable void that her voice rests inside reveals itself to be a place of unnerving contemplation. Despite this, Hatchie convinces you that this purgatorial dream state is far more desirable than the living Hell that is life spent all alone. [9]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: The art of the fadeout is an intentionally obscure one. It's the art of making the encroachment of silence into an instrument of its own, of stretching a song's end into a beautiful eternity. "Stay With Me" has a gorgeous fade-out, ending in a heartbeat of a drumtrack as its shoe-gaze-leaning guitars depart, but it in itself feels like a fadeout, taking the dying hopes of some vaguely sketched relationship and letting them sprawl out before you. It takes a while to get going (it didn't click for me until the bridge), but it's the kind of song that deserves your patience. [7]

Alfred Soto: So THIS is the synth pop bauble that Chvrches have failed to write for six years? It stinks of the past, peeks through v-shaped fingers at the future, and in Hatchie's sweet lies ("It's so better now you're gone") an ever-present present. [8]

Joshua Copperman: The tedious, nearly bass-less first half of "Stay With Me" surprised me, especially as so many TSJ colleagues were raving about this song. The lyrics are concise without being cliché, the production is a mostly interesting mix of Madchester drums and modern dream-pop, but I'm left living someone else's nostalgia. Like Snail Mail and other, similar acts, I'm an outsider for not having the same childhood as every other music writer. That doesn't make this a bad song: Once the live drums and harmonies kick in at 2:51, it becomes difficult not to fall in love with the song. But even that is probably because it evokes my own nostalgia -- it sounds like "Wake Up," and not the "Wake Up" indie rockers used to reference. (A bit like this pre-"Radioactive" Imagine Dragons song too, which I loved when I was 15.) And I still remain locked out; the YouTube comments claim that "listening to this song feels like being in a club on ecstasy in the 90's." But really, this feels like hearing someone else remember that oft-reminisced-upon time period, reminding me once more that things were apparently better before I got here. [6]

Vikram Joseph: From sixth form through much of my twenties, I thought I didn't really like dancing; far too late, I realised I just hated having to fake it in bleak, sticky-floored provincial or university clubs, damp with straight machismo and broken dreams. These days, I can lose my shit to "Dancing On My Own" and "Make Me Feel" in queer spaces I feel safe and happy in, and that's wonderful. It stings, though, to have missed out on a kind of transcendence I feel like I should have experienced on the cusp of adulthood, and "Stay With Me" speaks directly, powerfully to that part of me. Those "Born Slippy" synths feel soft-focus and hazy like inebriated happiness itself; Hatchie's vocals in the middle eight feel like they're grasping for something intangible and impossible, chasing every lost night and doomed love into the first glow of sunrise. This is slow-motion, tear-streaked disco-ball euphoria to remind you of nights you're not quite sure belong to you or to cinema; a fever-dream summer dance anthem that makes me believe that the perfect places we have always aspired to are eminently real, flickering in spaces that our younger selves could never have imagined existed. [9]

Iris Xie: When I review songs, I repeat them in order to sink in their atmosphere and be flooded into their sentiments, because otherwise, it doesn't come clear to me. In this discovery process, I often find myself compelled to sing and ad lib along. For "Stay With Me," at 2:50, I found myself unconsciously singing the bridge when the midpoint of the kicks off into the instrumental, specifically these two lines: "If I met you in a different moment/If I met you, would I be this broken?" I kept singing these two lines over and over again as each repeat occurs, and then I realized that the bridge is the verbal personification of the instrumental, and it is the underlying sentiment that drives all the stark, urgent confessions, so naked in their desperation and knowing that it is futile and they won't be heard, but nevertheless, they must be said. This stands in contrast with the first two lines, which put on such a brave face that contains a bitter heart: "It's all better now you're gone/It's all better on my own." When you sing these lyrics over each other, the synths are so lively and comforting in this melancholy and blend together with warm guitar strums, and solid drums to illuminate these sentiments. Hatchie is in pain from having to deal with such a broken void, and the vibrant singing of the bridge contrasts with the reluctant, forlorn sentiment of the initial verse, so it actually reads: "It's all better now you're gone/If I met you in a different moment/If I met you would I be this broken/It's all better on my own." Even though Hatchie acknowledges it feels wrong, saying "stay with me" is the balm that she settles on to ease this pain of her lover's departure because she's responsible for this pain. The beautiful part about the instrumental is that it reminds me of why music, and art overall, is so deeply important: when one is able to access the space of these heartfelt emotions, and to use the tools at your disposal to create the specific weight and textures of those experiences, it also can help give shape to those who are also feeling these certain ways, and allowing them to release and transmit it. I've shied away from my own private embarrassment and shame about this exact situation for years, and have only recently started talking about it with my therapist and supportive friends, but yesterday, I allowed myself to look through old journals and communications about that relationship. In reality, I never allowed myself to feel comfortable with the endless weight of these emotions and regrets, for I never wanted to be haphazard about the textures of this experience, even in making art about it. I feared it'd only sour the reality and aggravate my anxieties about people not taking the level of pain I had seriously and mocking it. Putting myself in that impossible situation for not wanting to mar those moments, I shut it down for the past few years. But I've had to let those similar feelings wash over me in the past few months to create art and even give justice to the reviews that I want to give on TSJ and elsewhere, so now I have to acknowledge that buried sadness. I no longer feel shame about that plaintive way to express my emotions about those situations, for this song's fuzzy, warm haze of disorientation is so familiar, and now I trust myself to just go, which is what I did with this review today. I guess that's one reason why pop is so lovely -- a salve for private hearts, not ready to debut, until they are. It's clear now. [8]

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