#then it picked back up when The Queen died and all the lets figure this out plot began

[asgardian-pat]

Honestly good on mcu to keep the same "What a lil bitch ass fucking prick" vibe to Namor that I always felt in the comics

[sp0o0kylights]

You know what I want to see, I want to see more of Steve, Eddie, and Robin being 1980s small town kids from Indiana, by which I mean;

Robin is The Source of Gay Knowledge purely because her parents host Hippie Christmas and she managed to sneak away to find a neat bookstore in Indiana once. 

Her knowledge is not in depth. It's patchy, woven together through rumors, stories she heard or things she picked up from her parents' old pictures. She's got a handful of zines, one book, and some movies she managed to order for Family Video behind Keith's back.

She acts like she's Queen of the Queers because in Hawkins she pretty much is.

(Max and El ask her what a lavender marriage is once, something they overheard snooping around. 

Robin confidentially answers that it's code for when one woman dresses up as a man, fooling officials into wedding two woman.

She does not live this down two years later when they find out what it actually means.) 

Eddie doesn't spend every weekend in Indianapolis. 

Gas is expensive, his busiest days of his "job" is Friday and Saturday, and he has no fucking clue what the hanky code is. 

He's wearing that bandana because Metallica front singer James Hetfield has one on all their tour posters. 

Eddie does make it down to a gay bar though, by accident. Rick needed some back up for a shady deal. Promised Eddie a boatload of free drugs to sell if he agreed to just stand there and look mean. 

He was warned the bar they were meeting in was 'weird' and to not 'freak out' --which Eddie thought was hilarious given his nickname and general appearance, but whatever.

He doesn't understand when they get there, because it's just a bunch of hot men with hanky's in their back pockets everywhere.

Then he sees two women kissing and it clicks. 

He can't out himself in front of Rick, but one of the bartenders playfully dresses him down for his own hanky, letting him know all about the code and teasing him through his embarrassment. 

He's got an offer to come back and learn what color and which pocket his hanky should actually be in, a prospect Eddie was salivating at until Chrissy Cunningham up and died on his ceiling.

(He still wore the hanky, because the feeling of that bartender tugging it out and stuffing it back in might be the closest thing he's ever had to sex and he absolutely wants a repeat. 

He's young and horny, sue him.) 

Steve Harrington may not be academically smart but he's not dumb. 

He figured out a while back that the basketball team as a unit probably crossed the queer line more than once--or at least it did before Hargrove came in. 

( Brad Handly for example, went around slamming kids into lockers and screaming slurs like a fucking movie villain one Monday because the varsity team got dead drunk at Laura's party on Sunday and hey, look, there weren't that many girls there, okay?

They all had fucking hands and mouths. Everybody but Tommy was single and hot to trot. Nothing gay about it.

Its not even like they were kissing or treating each other like chicks. It was just Brad's first time and they got to tease him later for overthinking it. 

Dude graduated soon enough after and given Steve was on the team as a sophomore, he hadn't thought about the guy and why he might be freaking out so bad in years.) 

Robin's entire panic attack at Starcourt, and a few more after had Steve replaying that whole incident. Reframed it a bit, and, yeah.

In retrospect that had been extremely gay, actually. 

It sat with him a lot easier than he'd thought it would. Partially because of Robin, but mostly because that's just who he was.

Stranger things had happened to Steve and this one didn't want to kill, maim or otherwise eat him, so it got filed under 'interesting facts he should never tell his parents if he wanted to keep his trust fund' and then he went about his day. 

(Or he tried too, anyways.

It caught up to him when Eddie and Robin somehow figured out the other was queer and dragged him along to some bar Eddie had a standing invitation at, with demands for Steve to do what he did best.

Babysit.

Their magical trip was utterly destroyed when Brad Handly happened to be the very same bartender who had given Eddie the invite.

 Considering Brad's immediate bark of laughter followed by a hug and introducing himself as "Steve's gay awakening", Steve ended up having to speedrun through Eddie and Robin both having a crisis for him.

It didn't help that Steve had politely, and laughingly, corrected Brad with a casual; 

"Pretty sure that was Tommy man, but if it helps I think that tongue of yours gave Matt Burdon a crisis."

--which ended up with him answering a lot more gay sex questions with Brad than he cared too. 

At least he, through Brad, was able to help Robin connect to some local lesbians and--after a second crisis from Eddie regarding how Steve managed to have more sex than "the resident town freak and guy who actually knew he was gay, Steve!"-- even helped Eddie out by catching the metalheads tongue with his mouth later that evening.

The last one landed him a boyfriend, trust fund be damned.) 

[steddieas-shegoes]

cw: discussion of past parental death due to overdose, mention of drug use

Steve stumbled upon the article when he was helping Robin collect articles for a project for her Industry Studies course.

He didn’t think much of reading about another small time musician getting caught up with the wrong crowd, and overdosing or getting in a drunk driving accident. It seemed like a pretty common theme. It was terrible, sad, horrible, but he’d seen about 30 stories like that in the last two days and he was kind of getting numb to it all.

Until he saw the name Munson.

Until a picture of a woman with long, curly hair and Eddie’s smile stared back at him next to a headline that read: “Kentucky Country Queen Dead at 27.”

He read the article with tears in his eyes.

Elizabeth “El” Munson, a hopeful country singer and guitarist, was found dead in her home by her six year old son, Edward. The boy reportedly tried calling his father at work with no luck before finally calling his uncle, Wayne Munson.

Toxicology reports show that she overdosed on multiple illegal substances. At this time, it is believed to have been accidental and no foul play is suspected.

It has now been made clear that Elizabeth was seeking a divorce from her husband, Al Munson, but had not been successful as lawyers were unable to locate him until her funeral. Their son has been put in the care of Wayne until further notice.

Robin found him 20 minutes later, staring at the page with swollen, red eyes. She took the paper, read the article, and put it back in the files wordlessly.

“I don’t think he wants us to know,” she finally said.

She was probably right.

But Steve had grown pretty close to Eddie over the last six months, had opened up to him about his parents, his fake friends, his concussions and nightmares. Eddie had started opening up to him, too.

He thought he had, anyway.

He told him about how his mom died when he was young and his dad was awful so he moved in with Wayne. He told him about how his dad appeared every couple years looking for money or a place to stay and Wayne always turned him away.

But he never really talked about his mom, always said he barely remembered her.

Did he know what happened?

——

Steve asked Wayne the next morning.

He’d come by to pick Eddie up for a day with the kids, but Eddie hadn’t set his alarm and was still asleep.

Perfect opportunity to find out more.

“So. Eddie’s mom.”

Wayne tensed over his plate of toast and scrambled eggs. He didn’t look up, just took another bite of food.

“Does he know how she died?”

“Do you?”

“Newspaper said overdose,” Steve tapped his fingers nervously against his thigh. “Says Eddie found her.”

“Trauma messes with your memory.”

It was final, a statement that left Steve with more questions, but a certainty that he’d get no answers.

“Yeah.” He gulped. “I’ve heard.”

——

Steve doesn’t bring it up to Eddie for a while.

He figured Wayne’s reaction said a lot about what Eddie knew or would be willing to share.

But they were a little high and alone and Eddie’s hand was warm in his and his filter was broken.

“I���m sorry you had to be the one to find your mom.”

The air around them was thick. The silence was deafening.

“Me too.”

Eddie’s voice was quiet, nothing like his usual playful tone.

Steve immediately wanted to put this conversation in reverse, pretend his curiosity didn’t matter.

“I’m sorry.”

Eddie moved closer to Steve, his arm a constant pressure against Steve’s. His head leaned against Steve’s shoulder.

“Wayne doesn’t know I know how she died. He doesn’t know I know my dad gave her bad drugs, convinced her all the up and coming musicians were doing a new strain of heroin. She’d kicked him out of the house,” Eddie’s breath caught. “She shouldn’t have let him come back that day. I heard them arguing before I left for school. She told him she was finding a manager and recording an album and that she was divorcing him. I didn’t know what that meant, but I knew it was bad.”

“Eds, you don’t have to tell me.”

“I know, Stevie. But you know everything else.” Eddie’s face turned until his nose and mouth were pressed against Steve’s arm. “I went to school. Didn’t think about it. Figured my dad would be gone when I got home and might come back in a few days once they cooled off. But when I got home, he was gone and my mom’s bedroom door was closed. And I opened it and there she was.”

Steve turned so he was face to face with Eddie, cupping his jaw and rubbing his thumb along his cheek in encouragement.

“I don’t even know why I tried calling the store first. I didn’t even know if he still worked there. But then I called Wayne and it’s like he just knew.” Eddie’s eyes closed for a moment. “Don’t think he’d ever gotten to our house so quick.”

“Did he know all this?”

“He knew enough. I stayed with him and then my dad gave up his rights. Lied to the counselor about what I knew so Wayne wouldn’t freak. Kept it up for a while,” Eddie let out a small exhale that slightly resembled a laugh. “I read the article about eight years ago. A kid in my class made a joke about me being an orphan because of the drug problem in America as if he even knew what that meant and I decided to see what the newspaper reported.”

“Do you play because of her?” Steve asked.

Eddie blinked back at him.

“I play for a lot of reasons. But I started because of her, yeah,” he whispers. “You’re the first person to ask me that instead of give me that look of pity.”

“I’m sad about how it happened, but giving you pity doesn’t change it. I’d rather hear how it changed you,” Steve whispered back.

They were close, legs intertwined, hands touching bare skin under shirts and on faces and necks.

“It changed everything for me. Wayne packed us up and moved us here as soon as he legally could. Probably for the best. Well,” Eddie gave a small smile. “Definitely for the best. Wouldn’t be here with you if he hadn’t.”

“Do you ever go back?” Steve did his best to ignore the fluttering in his stomach.

“Her birthday every year. She’s got a nice spot near her mom.” Eddie bit his lip. “It’s actually coming up in a couple weeks. Maybe you could come with me?”

“Me? Are you sure?”

Eddie nodded. “If it doesn’t weird you out that I talk to her. I like to give her updates on my life, Wayne’s life, music. Think she’d find it quite funny that I bring the guy I’ve had a crush on for two years.”

It takes a minute for the words to sink in.

“Two years?” Steve’s lips curled up into a smile. “I hope I live up to expectations.”

“I think she’d like you. She’d definitely make fun of me for having a boyfriend who wears polos though.”

“Is that how you’d introduce me?”

“If you’re okay with it.” Eddie leaned his forehead against Steve’s. “I know we haven’t talked about what we-“

Steve pressed his lips to Eddie’s, nearly knocking their noses together painfully in the process.

After the initial shock, they both relaxed into the kiss.

“I’d love to go. As your boyfriend,” Steve said after pulling away for air. “What was her favorite flower?”

“Gardenias. Always wore perfume that smelled like it. Why?”

“Because I have to impress her, right?”

“You realize she’s not gonna actually see or hear you? She’s definitely dead.”

Steve snorted. “I know. But she can still have nice things. Maybe us bringing her nice things in death is a way to apologize for the not nice things she had in life.”

“You’re a pretty incredible boyfriend, sweetheart.” Eddie kissed the tip of his nose. “And you now know more than Wayne, so it’s time for a pinky promise.”

Steve giggled before holding up his pinky. “I swear I won’t tell Wayne anything.”

“And you’ll kiss me whenever I want…”

“That’s a guarantee.”

“And you’ll let me win at Go Fish…”

“Not a chance, Eds.”

Eddie laughed. “Worth a try.”

Steve curled his pinky against Eddie’s. “So do you think she’d like me?”

“Oh. Oh god. She’d love you. You’re exactly who she’d want for me,” Eddie rolled his eyes when Steve flipped his hair back confidently. “And she’d braid your hair every night while you gossiped and sipped tea.”

“And what would you do?”

“Probably just soak it in. Appreciate having her and you around. You’ll just have to gossip with Wayne.”

“Wayne doesn’t strike me as-“

“Oh, he’s got you fooled! He’s a worse gossip than the ladies at the hair salon. Just ask him about the mailbox at the end of the road sometime. Make sure you’ve got an hour to spare.”

“Really?” Steve’s eyes lit up. “Is he home now?”

Eddie pulled Steve forward until he was flush against his front. “No and I have much better plans than gossiping with my uncle.”

“Oh?” Steve’s brow raised.

“It involves my bed and handcuffs. You in?”

“Hopefully you’re in.”

“God, you’re ridiculous. C’mon, now I’m even harder from your stupid flirting,” Eddie sat up and tugged until Steve followed. “Can’t believe this is how my night’s going.”

“Believe it, baby.”

[janeyseymour]

You Matter To Me

Summary: Based off of the stunningly and hauntingly beautiful song in the musical Waitress, by Sara Bareilles. After years of hiding, you're going to let yourself free, with the help of Melissa.

If you haven't heard this song, I highly suggest listening to it, and crying like I do.

WC: ~2.9k

Your life hasn’t been good for… as long as you can remember, if you’re being honest. It’s been train wreck after train wreck. But unlike some of those around you (your mother, your sister, your brother), you’ve changed the cycle and changed the game- or at least tried to. You took all of those years of abuse and neglect from your father and became a teacher at Abbott Elementary. Your only goal in life is to make sure those kids are as loved and as cared for as they can possibly be by you. Teachers saved your life all those years ago, so if you can be that person for even just one student, you know you’ve made your mark on this world.

The only thing that’s the same about your life compared to your family’s is that you… you made a choice, a not so great choice, when it came to who you were going to marry.

It started back in high school when you fell for a boy who used to sing and play guitar, serenading you. You, in true teenager fashion (and maybe a little naivety), fell for a boy and his boyish charm. He’s been by your side since. Mason has been by your side since, and while you’ve grown up, he hasn’t.

When your mother died, he stuck by you though. He took you in when you were faced with either barely scraping by on your own or moving back in with your father… he saved you from poverty for the rest of your life and from the abuse that your father would without a doubt hurl at you if you were to go back to him. 

He proposed to you with a lousy ring, and because you figured that you were lucky enough to find what you thought was love, you stayed. You married him. And you wish you wouldn’t have.

Because now, what were once warm kisses and sweet songs dedicated to you have morphed into hungry, horny kisses and smashed guitars during fits of rage. And it… it’s turned into an almost perfect side by side of what your mother’s marriage was before she passed away tragically.

You hold what happens at home to yourself- there’s no need to burden those around you with you problems. So, you throw yourself into teaching and making the world a bit brighter in the small ways that you can.

At school, you’re a part of quite the crew: a veteran kindergarten teacher who is as regal as the queen, a quirky man who is all about social justice (and you’re sure if you went to him for help, he would have resources for you in a flash, a custodian who lives life to the fullest, two younger teachers who have finally found each other, a principal that is all play, and then… a fiery redhead known for being tough as nails but turns to butter for you.

You’re quiet, timid- you always have been. That’s just been part of your personality for as long as you can remember. Or maybe the lively and effervescent side of you was beaten out of you by your father. Any normal person would not pick up on the subtle signs of abuse that you show.

But Melissa Schemmenti does. And it breaks her heart to know that you’re hurting, or at least to think that she knows you’re hurting. It’s part of why she puts her ‘tough as nails’ act aside when you’re around- she doesn’t want to startle you. She doesn’t want you to feel as unsafe as you usually do when you aren’t within the confines of the school.

During your preps, Melissa finds her way into your room quite often for an extra cup of coffee and to discuss things that happen at the school. But today, you really aren’t feeling it.

Mason was brutal last night. You’re hurting all over, and you really don’t feel like having to cover up what is happening off school grounds. So, instead of keeping your door open during prep as you usually do, the door is shut. Your lights are off, and you gently hold an ice pack to the bruises on your ribs inflicted on you from the previous night. You have a heating pad on your back for the soreness that you feel from an injury in the past. You settle into your chair, prop your feet up on a student chair, and try to get as comfortable as possible before resting your head against the back of your chair. Your eyes close as you try to adjust to the cool sensation on your front and the hot sensation on your back, hoping to get at least a few minutes of shuteye in before you have to pick your kids up again. Your husband kept you up most of last night- first with his actions, then with the consequences of his actions on your aching body, and finally his incessant snoring.

You feel like you’ve rested your eyes for about thirty seconds before you hear the door to your classroom open. Your body can’t take you moving too quickly at the moment though, so you just come to terms with the fact that whoever is at the door caught you with your feet propped up and eyes closed. At least they can’t see the bag of ice you have under your sweatshirt, or the heating pad that you’re leaning against.

“Hun?” Melissa knocks on your doorframe softly before taking a few steps into the room. “You okay?”

I could find the whole meaning of life in those sad eyes. They’ve seen things you never quite say, but I hear. Come out of hiding, I’m right here beside you. And I’ll stay there as long as you’ll let me.

You open your eyes and turn your head just slightly to look at her, and… she wasn’t quite ready for you to look at her the way you do. As you look at her tiredly, she can see the pain and exhaustion of the things that you refuse to say aloud. She hears the things that you never quite say, but she can hear it clearly in her head. She knows those eyes aren’t just perpetual exhaustion.

“Just tired,” you say softly as you subconsciously pull at your sweatshirt, making sure that she can’t see the slight bulge of the ice pack. “Mason and I were up late last night.”

The redhead lifts a brow. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” you sigh quietly. “Just… tired is all.”

The second grade teacher catches the way that you hesitate in your response, and she wants to beg you to just tell her the truth- to come out of hiding. Tell her everything that she thinks is happening is true so that she can help you get away from the situation you’ve found yourself in. Instead, she just holds up the cup of coffee she brought you and steps in a few paces further. Melissa sets the coffee mug on your desk and pulls up a chair next to you before taking your hand softly.

You look at her with a confused look. Why is she holding your hand suddenly? The two of you have flirted innocently, but she knows you have a husband.

“If you ever need to talk, I’m right here beside you,” Melissa tells you with as much heart as she can pour into those few words.

You hum quietly as you reach forward just slightly to grab the cup of liquid gold. In doing so, the icepack crinkles under your shirt. Your eyes widen just slightly as you go to adjust it quickly.

“Y/N,” she whispers. And in that moment, you know she knows. Fuck.

“I- I bumped into my counter on the way out the door this morning,” you try to excuse weakly. It doesn’t do you much good, because the green eyes that you’ve looked into so often see right through your lie.

It’s odd to see a few tears prick at the corner of Melissa’s eyes, and it’s an even worse feeling to know that you’re the one who caused them. “Mel, I- Don’t cry. I’m okay.”

“You’re not,” the usually tough teacher’s voice cracks ever so slightly. “I wish you would just… come out of hiding. Tell me what I think I already know. I’ll- I’ll be right here beside you through it all, and I’ll stay there as long as you’ll let me.”

Because you matter to me, simple and plain and not much to ask from somebody. You matter to me. I promise you do, you, you matter too. I promise you do, you see? You matter to me.

You bite the bottom of your lip before nodding, just barely. “But I’ll be fine. I’ve always been fine.”

“You are not fine right now,” Melissa counters.

“I’m used to not being fine,” you mumble. “But I will be… just keep having to hold out hope, and I’ll get there.”

“What if you aren’t?”

“As long as my kids here are safe and okay for as long as I’m here, I will be,” is all you can tell her.

“Do you not understand that you matter to me?” your colleague asks you quietly. “That you matter to all of us here? It’s simple and plain as that. I promise you- the way that those kids matter to you is the way that you matter to us, and we need you to be okay.”

“I will be,” is all you can offer. “Now, if you’ll leave me be…” you request softly, as much as you don’t want her to go away. But you know that if you don’t ask her to exit the room, everything will finally come tumbling out of your mouth before you can stop it. And with Melissa and her connections, who knows what could happen to Mason. For as much shit as he’s put you through, he’s still your husband. He still saved you from hell all those years ago. You… you still love him. Through good times and bad, right?

The redhead doesn’t want to leave you alone right now- afraid that if she does, something horrible will happen to you- something more horrible than what is now confirmed to her. But you asked her to leave you be for your prep, so she nods silently. You feel a gentle hand squeeze your own again before the warmth of it fades away. You close your eyes again and try to relax into your chair, but a pair of lips just barely brush against your temple, and a soft voice tells you that she will always be there for you whenever you’re ready.

The rest of the day passes by as you simply give into your body’s desire to teach from your chair. You pack your things and quietly make your way out of the building without running into any of your coworkers, by some miracle.

As you pull up to your house, your bright and beautiful and non-assuming home, you breathe out a sigh. The outside looks like a happy couple lives there- decorated with beautiful landscaping and flowers. You allow yourself to reminisce about how life used to be when you were a happy and healthy couple, and for a few minutes you pretend that you are still that happy woman, dreaming about a different life from the rest of your family. But as you open up the front door and see the shattered plates, the smashed guitar, and the angry fist shaped hole in the wall, reality crashes down on you.

With a few pained grunts and groans, you’re able to clean up the wreck that lies in your kitchen- that seems to be where most of your troubles find you these days. And it sucks, because the kitchen used to be your favorite room in the house. Cooking and baking used to be the one thing that would take you from the hellish place on Earth you found yourself in and transport you to a world where everything was okay- even just for a few minutes. You’ve come to hate being in the kitchen.

You settle on the couch with a slice of leftover pizza and a beer, although you then realize that the television remote is not where you usually leave it. So, as you munch on your dinner, an ice pack pressed delicately to your ribs, you allow your mind to wander. 

It’s addictive the minute you let yourself think, the things that I say just might matter to someone. All of this time I’ve been keeping my mind on the running away, and for the first time I think I’d consider the stay.

Your thoughts take you to what had taken place during your prep today. Melissa knows. You know Melissa knows. And she’s still telling you she’ll stand by you. She practically begged you to verbally confirm what she knows, and then to come out of hiding and tell her everything. She promised you that she would be there for you for as long as you would let her. And… and you believe her. You believe that if you told her about your life away from the school and outside of being Miss Y/N, the things that you would tell her would matter to her. And that… that thought becomes addicting.

All of this time, you’ve been thinking about the day where you would finally be able to get away from your husband- the second bank account that you secretly open is finally starting to look like something that you could fall back onto as you begin your new life. You’ve been thinking about just faking your death and running away to another place far, far away from here to get away from Mason. Of course, in doing that, you would have to leave Abbott and the city that has captured your heart from the time that you could walk, but it would be worth it to get away- at least that’s what you’ve been telling yourself.

But now, you’re considering the stay for the first time. Not staying with your husband of course- but staying in Philadelphia. You’re imagining a life where you could maybe… just maybe, still be able to make it here in this city. You have a support system behind you apparently. It shouldn’t come as a shock to you that the Abbott crew would have your back, but after being alone in this world for so long, after being told time and time again that he is the only person who could love someone like you, it takes you by surprise.

Because you matter to me, simple and plain and not much to ask from somebody. You matter to me. I promise you do, you, you matter too. I promise you do, you see? You matter to me.

You’re not quite sure when you picked up your phone, as your finger hovers over your redheaded coworkers number. Before you lose your nerve, you call her.

She picks up after just one ring, and she sounds concerned. “Y/N?”

You weren’t really expecting her to pick up, but she did. And you have no idea what to say. You know what you want to say, but you still can’t quite get those words out. So you settle for a, “You matter to me too.”

Her low voice whispers out a, “Are you okay?”

Your shoulders shrug, as if she could see you through the phone call. You don’t answer her question. Instead you say, “It’s simple, and plain, and not much to ask from somebody, but you matter to me too. I promise. You matter to me.”

“Hun,” Melissa breathes quietly. “Hun, you aren’t making sense. Are you okay?”

You just repeat the sentiment again, letting her know how much you care for her. You let her know that your heart loves Abbott.

“Y/N,” the second grade teacher stops your rambling. “Y/N, I need you to tell me what’s happening right now. Do I- Do I need to come over there? Call the police? Are you okay?”

“I-” The dam breaks, and you begin to hiccup sobs out in earnest.

“Hun,” Melissa’s voice is soft, warm. “I- Can you tell me where you are?”

“My house,” you choke out. “I- I don’t know why I called. I’m sorry.”

“Stay where you are,” the redhead tells you. “I’m on my way over.”

Before you can protest, telling her that you don’t want her to see the dark and dismal space that you inhabit, she hangs up.

After threatening your boss, Melissa is given your address, and she speeds her way to your house. She doesn’t even have to knock on the door before you open it and fling yourself at her. Your body tries to tell you how much you shouldn’t be doing this- your heart racing, your ribs on fire. But as you hold onto her, and the tears pour down your face and hit her leather jacket, you can’t find it in you to hold back anymore.

After years of hiding and being afraid of your own shadow, not knowing if it was yours or someone else’s, you’re about to come out of hiding. You’re about to attempt to claw your way out of this hellhole that you call a life. Hopefully, everything will change with the help of Melissa.

Part 2

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie

[buriedpentacles]

Pick a Picture - What Message Does The Natural World Have For You? 💚🪲🌱

Pick the image that calls to you and scroll to their respective message. If the message does not resonate or feel 'right', then leave it for another and move on. I would love if you replied or dmed me to let me know if the message DID resonate!! Pictures chosen randomly from pinterest. I used the Tarot of the Divine by Yoshi Yoshitani.

🐦‍⬛ PILE 1 - Deer and Crow Cards: Eight of Swords rv, Ten of Wands, Queen of Cups rv

This is a message from the natural world, and yet there are no pentacles - no cards representing the earth. You have grown disconected from the world around you, so caught up in yourself and your own feelings that you have failed to notice the changes around you; are you aware of how the moon has changed this cycle? Have you noticed the changes in flower blooms or the absence of certain bird calls? You have been so wrapped up in your own world that a lifetime has passed in the world around you. The Eight of Swords is a cage that you have built around yourself, you have bound yourself to your troubles and then lost yourself to the victimhood that you created. Now, it is time to let go. The pain is familiar but the sword only hurts because you still hold it. Let it go. The Ten of Wands is the central card, and the only upright one; it is time to accept that the end has come and that you need to move on. If you don't you will become stagnant and burdened by 'it'. Endings can be so difficult, we want to hold on for as long as we can, but we must accept that everything comes to an end. But when one flower dies, another takes it place, not the same perhaps, but beautiful still. The Queen of Cups, as the only court card, represents you. Typically, the Queen of Cups is a kind, intuitive figure - she listens to others and her own heart. But here the Queen is reversed. Your emotions relating to this change are compromised, you are not listening to your intuition or to others, only your selfish desire. Take a step back, breath, and recognise that deep down your heart and body know you must let go.

🌊 PILE 2 - Deer in Water Cards: The High Priestess, The Empress, Nine of Wands rv

A message with tw omajor arcana speaks to me of great importance, this is not a message about your path or journey, it is not about your current troubles or wishes for the future. This is a message about your very being and who you are. The High Priestess is a keeper of incredible wisdom, she knows things that she has never read, heard secrets that no-one has whispered and wanders in the realm of moonlight and dreams. Listen to your intuition and your dreams because they are telling you the truth. A deer does not question it's urge to flee, or it's feeling that it is safe, it trusts its evolution and intuition and behaves accordingly, but that does not mean they are unaware. Listen to your body, where do you feel anger? How does it feel? Is it sharp? Warm? Does it sit in your ribcage or your stomach? Practice this for all your emotions so that you can recognise and respect them. The Empress is the card of a Mother, of Nature and her power of creation. This card is to remind you of her presence in your life. You are an animal, just the same as the birds outside your window or the fox that scurries through your garden. You have the same primal knowledge, the same instincts and feelings. Do not try to sanitise yourself or seperate yourself from the beasts because that is when you hurt people the most. You will feel anger and sadness, you will make mistakes, lash out and be cruel. There will be people who cannot forgive you, and others that can. This is how it is and you must accept that. Know your feelings, give them space and compassion. Only then can you work towards improving your behaviours and actions. The Nine of Wands is reversed, and the only minor arcana - this card is relevant only in tangent to the others. You are struggling to move forward in your healing. In your mind, your path to "redepemtion" is far too steep and rocky, you feel as though you will never be the person you want to be. And maybe you won't. But, if you stop trying to change yourself for others, if you stop trying to make yourself into this perfect, unfeeling, unbothered martyr, then you will become the person that you are meant to be. The person who sits inside your irbs, nestled against your heart, whispering to you: "Run away from it all. Be free from them." Perhaps it is time to listen to that voice.

🌼 PILE 3 - Deer in Meadow Cards: Justice, Seven of Pentacles rv, Eight of Wands rv

The Major Arcana, Justice, is a representative of the Air element - truth, intellect, communication are the pillars of the element and this is where your message lies. You are searching for the truth in a matter. The Justice card speaks of truth, but also of actions and consequence - a double edged blade. Truth has a way of finding itself to the surface, no matter how deep it is buried, and you have decided that you will be the one to find it. But remember, Justice must be impartial, you cannot dictate the truth based on what you wish it to be. Review the facts and context and make your decisions fairly. The Seven of Pentacles reversed signifies that you have been pouring a lot of energy into this search, this desperation to find the truth, but you are looking in the wrong place. You've become so blinded by what you think is true that you are digging only in places that could confirm it. But now, you've been searching here for so long that you feel giving up would be a waste or a failure. Do not invest your time where it will not bear fruit. The Eight of Wands is a similiar message, your progress is delayed and communication grows more difficult. Your answers lie just out of reach but you will reach them, it is just going to take time and effort. Make sure you are truly aligned with your goal, and willing to look in other places even if it will present a distatesteful answer. If you are not willing to accept a truth that hurts, look away. Stop trying to find a false truth in someone else, that is only a distraction from the blade that lays wedged between your own ribs - the one who put it there is behind you, so turn around.

[repotting]

Okay I'm high rn so bear with me but.

Queen Caroline of Brunswick (1768-1821) was hated by her husband, King George IV of England.

He dragged her through the mud and had her tried for adultery etc, he wanted to take away her throne.

1820, when this all came to a head, wasn't super long after the liberal revolutions in France and before that the newly formed USA, and a lot of British people figured they were due for a revolution too.

People were agitating for voting rights, for a free press, for the right to assemble, on and on. Publicly disagreeing with the Crown was fucking treason. Liberalism was the fresh new ideology everybody was huffing, and the monarchy was not fucking having it.

So that's the state of things when old Georgie boy, who had very publicly been incredibly cruel and disloyal to Caroline, decided to start legal proceedings to get rid of her altogether.

And a lot of those would-be revolutionaries were like. Wait a minute. If we disagree with the king by supporting our legal queen, that's not actually technically treason.* Also the queen is so easy to sympathize with, she has just as much reason to hate the king as we do, surely she'd be on our side!!

Maybe we don't need an actual revolution, some of them said, we just need the right monarch.

Anyways she died a year later and never had much actual political power but do you think, even if George had died first and she had ruled, that people would've gotten their basic fucking rights from the graceful, unpressured concession of a monarchy that was actively making its living off the remains of feudalism, capitalism and the imperialist robbery of so many different peoples that fueled capitalism?

To be the monarch of that land was to take on the responsibility of furthering that theft and violence. That's the job.

Someone who took the throne and then was like "no let's just give back all the wealth we stole and let everyone vote on everything we do and always let them criticize us publicly" when it was not tactically necessary to preserve power, would not fucking survive in freedom long enough to actually do that.

That's the momentum of such a massive machine, it does not stop, much less turn into a machine that does the opposite of its designed function for one person, even the person that directs where it will focus its violence.

The idea that the right king or queen could make the UK a free and fair paradise was insane.

Anyways it seems like some people think just having the right president is gonna fix everything that's wrong with the USA and turn it into a machine whose function is serving humanity instead of blowing up large swathes of it for cash.

You're thinking too small. You can't actually find that perfect parent of a ruler who will make everything better, that's not a real thing. Please start engaging with the reality that what's wrong with the USA is not just a matter of one ruler.

This country is a machine that turns lives into cash. It is massive and has centuries of momentum and it is going to require coordinated actual action from a lot of people to get it to even slow down its rampage, much less stop, much less to actually start disassembling it, destroying the most dangerous parts and refashioning it into something that starts to solve the problems it's so doggedly, aggressively creating.

Some people look at this problem and shrug and insist all that can be done is to pick the person who says they'll aim the machine at slightly fewer people.

But I think even if you do that, you should also be learning to use a screwdriver and talking to your friends about what would be the easiest piece to break off that machine. Ykwim?

*Georgie boy disagreed, and Caroline's most vocal supporters were closely watched and harassed by his military, so working within the system didn't actually help them much. Treason was in the eye of the beholder then, as it often is now!

[buckgasms]

Elskan Mìn - VI

I finally figured out how to get from A to B on this story so please enjoy the latest update and hopefully I can update the rest of it later this week 🩵

Enjoy!

You paced around the tent for over and hour. Each time you'd tried to leave or even glance outside and guard had politely but firmly pushed you back inside.

Waiting was unbearable, you could hear people shouting and clamouring all around you as a battle raged in the distance. You didn't know what to do. Why would your father do this?

The whole point of this arranged marriage was to unite the two realms, to build strong bonds and ensure peace. Tears leaked down your face and your brushed them away angrily. He couldn't even let you have a wedding night...

🗡️

In the early hours of the morning you were eventually allowed out of the tent by an attendant who chastised the guard. "The people need to see their new queen is brave and with them, not a little girl hiding in a tent all night!"

You thanked him before heading out towards the makeshift square. It was littered with wounded, but everyone seemed focused and busy. You felt proud of them, they were stronger in more ways than just brawn. You recognised a woman, Magda, from your tour around the camp from your first day and approached her, sat down and helped her bandage a young man.

At first she balked at you doing such dirty work, but you smiled and continued, prompting her to leave you to your work and help another. You passed a few hours this way, picking up news here and there as you tended to more.

Finally news came. The battle was over. Bucky and his soldiers were returning as victors. They had captured your father, your brother was slain and most of the men had fled into the fields and hills.

You burned with shame as people glanced at you, wondering how you would defend your family. How many of their family members had suffered or died in battle because of them? You were grateful when Magda clapped her hands and demanded more salves, water and linen for bandages. You shared a smile with her before you both fell back into your duties.

🗡️

It was another hour before they started returning in their masses. You watched as families reunited and smiled, constantly keeping your eyes scanning the crowd for Bucky in between dishing out drinks of water and comfort for women and children searching for loved ones.

Finally a yell sounded and there he was, atop his horse, flanked by Sam and Steven, bloodied from battle and stern. You dashed forward, forgetting all propriety and pushing throught the crowd. Men cheered and parted as you fought your way through. When he saw you in the crowd he dropped from his horse and waited with arms open when you finally appeared.

His steel armour hurt your body as you crushed him into a tight embrace but you didn't care. It was proof you were there in his arms. Finally you broke away, looking at his face, scanning what you could see of him, for wounds or injuries. Your tears of relief fell and you smiled, despite the muddy, bloodied state, before kissing him.

He's smile faded when he saw your bloody, dirty hands. "Were you hurt darling?" He searched your body for marks but found you pristine. "I just wanted to help... I couldn't sit there and do nothing..."

He smiled and began walking on with you. The tension built with each step and the topic left unsaid. Your father captured. Your brother dead. Their attack on your husband failed but costly. You squeezed his hand and walked in silence. Perhaps after a wash, things would feel a little clearer.

🗡️

That afternoon the wounded had been moved from the main square and a fire was lit. Food was served and seats where gathered exactly where you had said your wedding vows the night before. You were seated next to Bucky and we're fiddling with your fingers. You were waiting for your father to be brought up for execution. He needed for be punished.

Bucky's hand slipped into yours to stop you fidgeting. You wanted to lean onto his shoulder, close your eyes and wind the clock back to the night before. It was more innocent then. Much less scary.

But you couldn't. The crowd was gathering and jeering as your father was walked throught he crowd, rope around his neck and wrists and led up onto the platform across from you.

Your breath shook as you watched him. His eyes were a little wild, blood stained his face, but he was still there, the cruel, cold scheming devil you had known your whole life. You shuddered and looked away, squeezing Bucky's hand tighter to steady you.

"King Dolos, you stand accused of treason, incitement of murder..." Bucky's strong voice called out across the crowd, silencing them and drawing all attention to between himself and the accused. "You will be hanged for these crimes, is there anything you have to say before you die?"

The crowd jeered and cried out in anger as your father laughed and spat at them from his position on a platform. He scanned the crowd before his eyes locked on you, his grin becoming darker and malicious.

"Oh yes, just one thing." He said slowly as the crowd hushed again. "I wanted to thank the king for his hospitality. My family have enjoyed learning about your savage ways..." The crowd booed and jostled towards him, before being pushed back by guards.

"My son... You killed him yes? He was foolish. Loyal but foolish. He did his best to help me, but... Ah alas. At least my daughter didn't fail me..."

Your eyes widened. What did he just say? The crowd murmured what you were thinking and you watched as heads turned and hushed voices whisper questions.

"My little spy, never failed me, the mastermind of the whole plot. She is the real enemy of you and your people..."

Your blood left your body as quickly as Bucky's hand left yours. The crowd turned although many of them uttered their disbelief

You were good and kind, they had seen it themselves. But maybe that was part of the act.

"She is the reason your sons, husbands and brothers are dead. She is the one who made you think she was sweet, but she has the heart of stone...."

Discord spread through the crowd like wildfire. It was only when Bucky rose to his feet and demanded silence that order was restored. "The last attempt at deciet from a coward..."

"Ah but my most noble king...there will be proof. In your tent. I sent a letter last night, telling her to keep you busy while the final plans were made..."

As if by magic an attendant, the one who helped you leave the tent that morning appeared. "My King! King James, it is true. Here are the papers, the secret letters of a treacherous family..."

You rose from your seat as the crowd went wild. Some of them attacked your father as his laughter was drowned out by their cries, but others turned towards you. As they headed towards the platform you sat atop you screamed, vision blurring as you heard a sword being unsheathed.

Your head turned to Bucky, his eyes full of pain, confusion and hurt. "Bucky I swear... I promise I didn't...he's...he's lying.."

Your breath became shaky and you tried to launch yourself towards him, away from the baying crowd.

"Please?"

[ally-kat13]

Making story descriptions for future books i will write in heathers ships

jderonica: Veronica has a perfect life after what happened in 1989. a daughter named jane of her own. even a husband. but lets ignore the fact that her husband is in jail and her daughter sees the ghost of a girl in red. veronica's husband jd would break out of jail searching for veronica and his daughter he didn't know about until last year. its up to veronica to either fight her demons and face the problem or run away again with her daughter.

chansaw: its been three years after the incident of westerburg high, jd blew up the school but not before veronica shot him dead, sadly she couldn't save the school, or her lover heathe chandler. the storys goes back and forth between the feelings of heather and veronica in 1989 and the present time of veronica being arrested in 1992 and being haunted by her ex lover, and we're not talking about jd.

dukesaw: heather duke, grew up in a small town before moving to sherwood ohio, where she met heather mcnamara who got her into the heathers. soon enough after the years went by of abuse from chandler to duke, veronica would join. soon heather would feel envy of being favored by heather over her but soon a different feeling approches.

mcnawyer: it had been a year after the demise of jd and the faked suicides of heather, kurt and ram. veronica would be on the verge of losing it, swearing to see the ghosts of heather and jd all the time. the only person left by her side is heather and whats heather to do when her crush is becoming crazy?

chandean: what if heather and jd had been friends in kindergarten before he had to move away? and what if they had something for each other which would return when jd came back to sherwood years later. how could heather stand these feelings for a nobody and how could veronica sweep him away. but what happens when jd's hatred boils over his hidden love for heather? will she be fed drain cleaner or will they come back together after all these years?

jduke: what if after the breakup of veroinca and jd, jd need some assistance of blowing up the school, thats when he would ask heather duke. he knew heather had a twisted side, being happy after heather died, even wishing for her death. so what happens when they blow up the school together and run away when heather can finally be a goddess to our love is god.

jdmara: maybe veronica wasn't the one who approached jd and it was heather mcnamara who approached him. but after what happened heather would have run away, and changed her name and rode up to seattle. jd wouldn't be far behind, looking for his lover but what happens when he finds her. all the torture comes back as heather attempts suicide while jd is left to pick up the pieces.

chanduke: the backstory of heather duke, how the heather became friends, how duke was knew and mcnamara welcomed her, heather chandler felt something she shouldn't have felt, not for a girl. so what is she to do? well bully her till she can't take it no more. but as heather duke starts to rise up heather chandler starts to fall down. it was heathers plan all along, dethrone the queen but what happens when heather dies and duke is left to figure out her feelings.

chandlmara: heather mcnamara, heather chandler, two rich popular, perfect girls. but with one tiny secret, they're in love with each other. they can deny it by kissing a hundred boys in bars but they can't fight the feelings for each other, so what happens when heather mcnamara is exposed as a lesbian to everyone and its left to heather to save heather from her mental problems and her denial of feelings

mcduke: a story about lust, suicide, love, and betrayal. heather duke and heather mcnamara were once friends, and they did everything together but maybe their friendship went beyond their average kind of bond. but when heather duke rises to the top thanks to jd and heather sinks to the bottom, heather would betrayal heather by killing herself, not thinking she would try to do it. thank god veronica stopped her but its only up to heather to swallow her pride and make it up to heather before heather bites the bullet.

[musicoftheheart]

i am not in a Positive Mood atm and so i will be picking a bone with disney because there is one song that has frustrated me since the day i heard it and i vow here and now that one day i will rewrite it and that song is My Once Upon A Time from descendants 3

for context, the song comes right after all of mal's closest friends and her fiance have just been turned to stone. unless she can find a way to turn them back, they are - for all intents and purposes - dead, essentially. and, as she says in the song, its her fault. i dont 100% agree with that, but its not the bit i want to pick at

no, what id like to rant about is the fact that the whole song - the whole song - is her talking about how she needs to fix it because its not how she wants to be remembered. what?! im sorry, her friends have been turned to stone and shes concerned about whether she'll be portrayed as a hero in history books? what the fuck.

allow me to point to a song that achieved exactly what mouat shouldve: the next right thing, from frozen 2. in this song, anna learns her sister is dead, because olaf (who's life relies on elsa) dies in her arms. anna's song shows how she picks herself back up, not for herself but because she has people relying on her who need her. because its the right thing to do. not because she wants to be seen as a saviour, but because she wants to save the lives of everyone still in danger. shes already lost her sister, she doesnt want to lose her kingdom, her people, too.

tnrt in frozen 2 was an impactful and emotional moment. mouat in d3 showed mal brushing off the fact her friends were gone and instead focused on her reputation. and i get it - i get that the whole point of the descendants trilogy was that you get to write your own story, and that nobody is wholly good or bad, and that youre in control of your own decisions and whether they help or hurt - but this should be a moment of pure emotion for mal as she recognises how her own actions have led to the loss of her friends, but that she has to carry on if she ever wants a chance to save them; to save everyone. it should not be focused on her being good for the sake of reputation

and, to add to this, im fully aware that throughout the three movies, we see how mal values other people's perception of her, especially so at the start of d2, and then again at the start of d3 both as her role as future queen, and when she doesnt tell her isle friends that it was her call to keep the barrier closed. shes afraid of how theyll see her, yes, but we had the character growth during d2 where mal became more confident about not fitting with the perfect princess look (represented by her transformation into the dragon, and continued use of such magic despite it coming from her evil mother, as well as her dress changing from auradonion colours to her signature purple), so any insecurities there shouldve been wrapped up. and her lies in d3 were, ultimately, for the good of everyone, and only temporary. the barrier had to stay closed until they could figure out a way for it to be safe for everyone. if she had let them bring down the barrier too soon and a villain had caused chaos, then that would ruin the chances of the barrier ever coming down forever. and if she had told her friends - specifically evie - that it was her call, then she knew that evie would convince her to change her mind. but changing her mind at that point was not for the greater good, therefore she lied. as much as a small amount of it was for her reputation among her friends, it was also for the good of auradon and the isle

therefore i refuse to believe that muoat shouldve been focused wholly on her reputation. we know mal cares so much about her friends and about ben, so why didnt the song dive into that? why were we not looking at her guilt, or her determination to carry on so that she could save her loved ones and her home? why, instead, did we focus so hard on the way she wants to be remembered for her heroics and good deeds?

i also understand that mal may be compartmentalising to an extent, by ignoring her own grief for her friends and instead focusing her attention elsewhere to keep herself going. she very clearly does have insecurities about her decisions and her role in auradon, so it would make sense to distract herself with that rather than letting herself break down over her friends. if this was what they intended, though, i think it was poorly done. at least, i certainly wouldnt have brushed past it quite so nonchalantly. mal hardly seemed to care that her friends had been turned to stone after the first - what - two lines of the song? and even then all she says is that she deserves it. she deserves it?? like it had just been a shove in the playground or something, and not an attack on her loved ones - one that, remember, could very well result in her losing them forever

quite literally, her only lines in the song about losing her friends are: "here you are alone and you deserve it // your friends have turned to stone and thats on you" and that is it. everything else is about her story being written, or about serving a cause, or her reputation not being linked to her parents'

i really do not like this song. i havent watched d3 for over a year, so i do apologise if ive missed/forgotten important context, but from everything i remember and listening to the song itself, i do not believe it does the moment justice. i want to rewrite it one day, ive no idea if i ever will or how, but i dont like it the way it is.

[wildglitch]

More ideas for the What if...Zombies Spidey X DC AU

I wanna expand from this a bit cause I thought of it the other day and it wont leave me alone 💀

Anyways, these are just some points I have decided to add to this AU starting with Peters background and what I think he went through. Since this is mostly Marvel stuff, you can even ignore the DC aspect of it

Buckle in cause its a long one

-The Zombie apocolyps started when Janet got back, and canonically, that was about a month before Bruce showed up. So we have a month to play with and get everyone together, but honestly, that too little time for me man. So Im changing the timeline so that everything started 7-8 months earlier. That gives our heros time to find eachother at diffrent times and overall really let Peter live in a full blown Zombie apocolyps

-Peter, totally spent like a full month and some alone. He was told by Tony to "stay put and help the little guys" and just never saw him again. Poor guy.

-All his friends and familly died within the first week. Some lasted a bit more then others but all of them ended up getting infected. So by the second week Peter had lost everyone he ever knew and loved

-Peter spent his month alone searching New York for survivers. He was so deaspreate to find people and protect his city that he would go days on end without sleeping or eating.

-In his attemps to find any living being, he made all of Queens and later the rest of New York into his web, so he could know whenever anyone got caught in it ( like how Andrew Spider-Man tracked the Lizard in his movie but way bigger) He also has help from all the surviving spiders helping him in his search

-Adding to that- his webs? Zombies dont like it. Peter upgraded the formula to make some that dont disintigrate, but Its not that it hurts them, they just avoid it. he thinks they can tell they shouldnt touch them.

-A month alone has gotten Peter to see things. Thing he wishes no other person has to ever whitness ("Holy fucking shit the rats got infected!")

- Peter made himself a guide for this like in Zombieland. Rule 7. Dont go into the sewars

- Peter killed 9 Zombies in his time alone and he hated it

-We could either do "Bucky arrives to the webbed New York and finds feral spider child who attacts him cause Peter hasent sleeped in many days and hes scared shitless of the first human he finds" or " Hope is informed by the others that they havent gone into New York cause something is guarding it. But when she enters to investigate, insted of finding some eldrict Zombie horror, she finds a small scared teen in his web that just wants a hug from a matrnal figure" pick your favorite, (it could also possibly be both tbh)

-Momma Wasp > Mother Potts (Im sorry but its true 😔, the content dosent lie)

-Peter was one of the last if not the last person to join the group before the episode happend and when he saw all of the people that were there, insted of being sad of how few they were, he cried tears of pure joy over the fact he wasnt the last person alive

-Peter Hugged happy and he didnt get pushed away :)

- Peter hasent showerd in weeks Parker: Im so happy Im not alone!

The adults, who havent had as nearly as bad as a time as Peter: Have you meet soap????

- Peter had already made the base we see in the episode long before the others arrived. He had hoped it would be one of many safe houses for the survivers he would find, but that quickly become a broken dream. He was so happy to be able to use it, and no ones had the heart to reject his base even though they had their conserns about the saftey of it. (the base never once fell due to Peters care)

- Peter was super deppressed even though he tried to hid it, so Kurt, being the only semi-normal person there, told Peter to make videos for future survivers they find. And thus, his guide become digital!

-I like to think the group had like 4 or 5 more people at the begining, but over the course of the months, they ended up dying and getting infected before the episode.

Possible characters could be:

Matt Murdock: survived cause he could tell when someone got turned (he's canon now so it counts lol)

Any of the Barton kids: They where pretty isolated, so maybe we could have one of them survive and be rescuede by a S.H.E.I.L.D agent and end up with the group (+2 angst points for losing their sibilngs)

Jack Lockly: And only him. The rest of the group see this random cabie surviver wondering "how tf?", while in reality, he was minding his own business at the back of the mind and is now forced to front 24/7 cause they are in constant danger with the Zombies and he has no idea what to do. (The others are not responding, he has a big ass bird yelling at him, and he has no clue what to do with the body or how to fully take care of it)

Darcy Lewis: She was in her 2 broke girls era when shit hit the fan and now she's here

Kamala Khan: *Looks into boxs grandma brough during visit* *takes bangle while running from Zombie* *Puts it on* *Survives* *Suprised Pikachu face*

You could posibly add other characters you like, but dont forget that these guys have to die by the time the episode rolls around so keep that in mind

-adding to that last to point:

1.Matt and Peter became close and would go on suplie runs together. Matt trained Peter a bit, and Peter would acompany Matt to church. Not cause he has too, but because he wants to be there with him. Something happend and Matt sacrificed himself to save Peter. Achevment Unlocked: The Sensei always dies

2.Peter, Becomes friends with the other Surviving kids: *Insert happy spider*

His friends end up dying: *insert depressed boi*

3. Pete: Sooooooo

Jake: ?

Peter:... Have you ever had to deal with this old Dominican lady named miss Sanches that lives between 7th and 8th?

Jake: Thats really racist, yk that

Peter: OH! No- I just

Jake deals with horibble passengers Lockly: But Yes! jfc she was the worst!

Peter deals with the little people Parker: RIGHT!?

4. Darcy Lewis: *determend to save this poor kids love life*

Peter fought his dates dad Parker: Boy do I have some bad news for you

5. And saddest one: Whenever one of them died, Peter would take their belongings and burn all but one thing a keep it on him to remember them by. I'll let you sit with that

Remember, That up there is in the gray bettween canon an non-canon. I'll let you guys pick.

-Hope became a mother figure to him. We always have the "Oh so and so is his dad" or "Hes totally *Insert characters* son"- NO! HE IS A MAMAS BOY! Look at Him! That boy was raised by a woman, to respect women and Im teird of people ignoring it! (Lmao)

He bonds with her over science, their experiences with super heroing, bugs, and their want to save those who they have lost. When she found him, he was so teird that he mistaked her for his aunt May and cried into her arms. they dont talk about it much, but Hope put in the effort so that he dosent have to do to many hard things.

-You ever seen any of the marvel cast interveiws? ya, thats Peter and Buckys relationship just more in character. sure, dose Bucky see a bit of Steve in Peter? Sure, but not enough to stop him from throwing that lil' shit to the wolfs (Zombies) . Remember how in another post I mentioned how Peter would be thrown out the window? Ok, now imagien them having to be roommates because of how the base is set up (Every one must share a bus with another).

Peter may have lived with the others. But Bucky was his Roommate, and they both know shit you can only learn by sharing a room. Its a constant game of blackmail and horror.

-Happy's additude twords Peter turns from Homecomming to Far from home In this time.

-Every Holiday was celebrated.

-And Finally, Every death hit much harder due to all of them being much closer

Do I have more? Yes. Is this post way too long? Most definetly. Do I regret it? Kinda, but its fine. Will I make another post focusing more on the crossover side of things? Of most definetly and that is a threat.

But for now, I give you Zombie! Peter AU "Content". (Not the comic, but thw What If episode) (Can you telling I'm having fun with this AU?)

[springismss]

Tested by Time - Chapter 2🌻

series summary; what happens when time suddenly decides to feed you snippets of a life you can't remember living? a life filled with joy and happiness that was cruelly ripped away - your mind plagued with just that. when a certain spirit is plagued by these memories as well, he’s just as confused as you. two hearts brought together through many millennia find they’re connected in more ways than one.

pairing; Yami Yugi/Atem x female! reader

reblogs/feedback/likes are appreciated & encouraged. DO NOT repost/steal any of my works.

chapter warnings; implied sexual content

chapter word count; 2.2k+

chapter summary; when you think things couldn’t get more “real”, you were sadly mistaken. the next memory you have feels slight more real that you could have ever imagined. plus, when a request from help comes from a familiar face, who are you to refuse?

a/n; after a long wait, here’s the newest chapter of Tested by Time. first posted to Ao3, this comes a few weeks later. as always, hope you enjoy!

links; series masterlist | prologue | 1 | 3

Letting out a yawn you stretched and rolled over, grabbing ahold of your phone as another message alert rang out. Thanks to the constant back and forth from the people in your friend group, specifically two people, you were up earlier than you would have loved on your day off. Unlocking your phone, you quickly scanned your messages and rolled your eyes, what was supposed to be a conversation about what you were all doing for the day ended up with some back and forth between Tristan and Joey, who ignored what others were saying to them. Typical as always.

Letting out a sigh, you pulled the covers back and got out of bed. You needed to freshen up for the day and no doubt you’d be done before a plan was made. After selecting your outfit and placing it to the side, you grabbed everything you needed and made your way to the bathroom. Turning on the taps for your bath. Warm began to fill the air as the mirror up from your sink started to steam over, causing your reflection to slowly distort. For the past few days, your dreams had been normal, nothing out of the ordinary and for that you were thankful. You didn’t think you’d be able to handle any more.

Shutting the water off, you stripped out of your bedclothes and slowly stepped into the bath, letting out a content sigh as the water wrapped around you. If it was one thing you loved about being at home after a long week, it was your bath. Sure, showers proved useful but sometimes all you wanted to do is relax. Slipping down a little, you rested your head against the edge of the bath and closed your eyes for a moment. Enjoying the calmness.

Soft chatter died down as a door was shut, a lone figure sighing out as they leaned against it. The day has been as long as it has been busy and the Queen was ready to relax with a bath. Pushing off the door, the young woman walked forward and glanced around, smiling softly at the various items left on the side for her. Lifting her hands, she pushed the straps of her outfit down off her shoulders and allowed the garment to fall to the floor, pooling around her feet. Stepping out, the Queen bent over and picked it up, placing it to the side as she took off some of her jewellery, the bigger items being laid gently to the side, smaller items being kept on her figure.

When she was bare, she stepped forward and slowly walked into the large pool, the cool water a welcoming feeling on her warm skin. With all the madness going on in the palace, times like this felt like a breath of fresh air, especially when she already felt out of place. Stepping further into the pool, the young Queen took a breath and held it, plunging herself underneath for a few seconds before emerging and wiping her eyes. Repeating the process a few times before she was satisfied with how much she had cooled down. Looking around, she turned her body and moved gently towards the side, sitting down on the steps that she walked down. Unaware of the eyes that watched her closely.

She didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there in her own world, tuned out of everything around her, as the feeling of the water shifting beside her made her look. Letting out a small yelp of surprise, she pushed the shoulder of the other person and smiled, lying her head on the place she pushed a few seconds earlier. “I was wondering how long it would have been before you joined me, my love”.

Looking up, she saw the visible tiredness on the male's face and sighed softly. She hated seeing him so worn out, he needed a break as much as the next person. Of course, he had things he had to attend to, being the Pharaoh meant he had duties, a lot of them but he needed time off now and then. Sitting forward, she shifted herself so she knelt behind him, hands rubbing small circles across his back as she felt him relax. “That’s it, feels so great am I right?”.

Leaning over his shoulder she looked at him and smiled, placing a small kiss on his cheek before moving back to what she was doing. The feeling of him relaxing more made her smile humming softly as she continued for a few more minutes, moving to sit by his side when she was finished. The two of them sat in comfortable silence for a moment.

The water began to move as the young Queen turned her head, tilting it as she watched what her husband was doing. In a second he was behind her, hands resting on her hips as he pulled her close to him. Looking to the side, she opened her mouth to speak before giggling at the look she saw. A look that only she got to see made itself known on his features before disappearing as he lowered his head to the nape of her neck. “You know, (e/n), I could think of better ways to relax or ways you could put those fingers of yours to use”.

The heat she felt creep across her face was similar to the hot days Ra provided. They’d been married for a good while now but he still made her blush with the words he spoke to her when they were alone. The feeling of fingers slowly trailing over her skin made her shiver, biting back a small moan when his touches moved lower. The Pharaoh would be her undoing, making her fall apart as she lost her mind to the throes of pleasure, bringing her back to earth with a crash when it was all over, and right now, this was no different. “Here of all places, ———?”.

Looking as best as she could, she saw the desire in his eyes before their positions changed, her new perch being the bare lap of her husband as she felt just how much he wanted her. His eagerness was hard to hide. Fingers moved further down her body slowly moving along her slit, threatening to slip into her core at any point, his other hand reaching up to cup her breast, pinching her nipple. The chuckle that echoed at her moans made her push herself closer to her other half. “I think we both know we’d never make it back to our chambers before I took you again today, besides~”.

The hand on her chest moved, causing a small whimper to sound before she felt her face being cupped slightly. Forced to look into amethyst-coloured eyes, the Queen tried her hardest to resist the building desire in her gut. They’d already been close to each other earlier in the day before they were both caught up in their duties. A loud moan sounded as fingers pushed past her lower lips, slipping into her throbbing core. “~I heard water makes for good pleasure. I guess we should try it”.

Opening your eyes you sat up and panted, some water splashing on the floor as you breathed heavily. Looking around you saw you were alone, your heart beating erratically as you tried to calm down. Of all the visions, dreams, whatever you wanted to call them at this point, this one felt the most real. The touches, the voices everything felt so real. Looking down at your body, you could still make out the trail the fingers took before blushing slightly, shaking your head to rid yourself of those thoughts. “I’m losing it”.

Deciding it was best to get out you pulled the plug and stepped out of the water, wrapping a towel around you. You had to get out of your bathroom, even if it was for a minute to gather yourself before you set foot back inside. Walking out to your bedroom you reached your bed and grabbed your phone, seeing a few tags in your group chat asking if the plans were okay with you. Tapping out a quick reply that said anything was fine with you, you sent another letting them know to go ahead you’d catch up.

Placing your phone down you took a moment to sigh out, trying to think of anything else other than what had just happened. As you turned around and began to walk back towards the room you had come from, the sound of your phone pinging again several times caught your attention. Part of you told you to ignore it, it was just the group chat but another part of you willed you to check it out. Listening to that half, you walked back to your bed and grabbed your phone only to see several messages from Yugi.

Tilting your head in confusion, you unlocked your phone and read through what he had sent.

Starfish:

Hey (y/n), before you go and meet the gang, can you stop by mine?

We’ll go and meet them together, plus I have something I need to ask you!

You’re the only one who can help in this situation.

Blinking a few times, you reread over the message a couple of times, seemed a bit out of the ordinary but you weren’t one to ignore a friend in need.

Butterfly:

YUGI!

Hey, of course, I shouldn’t be too long but I need to get sorted first.

May or may not have fallen back asleep D:

I’ll let you know when I’m on the way!

Locking your phone, you placed it on your table and grabbed your clothes, getting ready within a matter of minutes. Before long, you were finished and heading out. Checking your pockets once more you nodded to yourself and closed your front door, grabbing your phone and shooting off a message to let your smaller friend know you were on your way. Of course, you had to keep yourself in check and not let what had happened get to you. You’d figure it out another day. Right now it was about having fun with your friends.

The sound of a message pinging alerted the owner as round eyes looked at the content, smiling a little before locking their phone. Looking over their shoulder, they looked towards the corner where another figure could be just made out floating in the air. Standing, they grabbed their jacket and placed it on, getting ready to head downstairs and bid goodbye to their grandpa.

The floating figure took notice and vanished, only to reappear beside the smaller figure when he made it outside. Out of these visions he’d been having the one that had just happened felt the most real one yet. The poor spirit wished the world would swallow him whole when he caught his host poking at him, or where he was meant to be. After all, he was making some strange noises, noises even the smaller boy had never heard before. “Yugi, was this really necessary?”.

Looking to the side, the smaller figure smiled and nodded his head as he waited for their friend to appear. “Trust me Yami, (y/n) will be able to help, I know it!”.

As the mention of the name, another figure turned the corner and smiled waving to the lone figure standing outside the game shop. Looking up, the spirit could only blush slightly, coughing as he excused himself back into the walls of the puzzle. Much to the enjoyment of Yugi. It was time to get to the bottom of everything, even if a certain spirit was reluctant.

Walking briskly you came to a halt in front of Yugi and smiled, placing your hand on your hip and you fanned yourself from the slight heat. “Right, I’m here. You ready to go?”.

With a nod of his head, the two friends began to walk and talk about things. Enjoying the other's company, one of them completely unaware of the eyes on them as they walked. “Say Yugi, what was it you wanted to ask me earlier?”.

Oh yeah, the young male had forgotten about that. Coming to a stop, he looked at you and hesitated for a moment before deciding it was time to bite the bullet, asking you outright. “Oh yeah, so you know the spirit of the puzzle? Well, I was wondering if you would go to the Egyptian exhibit at Domino Museum with him? He’s trying to learn more about his past and I know how much you love history. Seems like a win-win if you can help him find something there”.

Looking to your side, you pondered on his words for a moment. You guessed it wouldn’t hurt to agree, it would get you out of your room and on a plus side, it was all about Ancient Egypt. A place that you seemed at ease about the more you learned, a place where you felt like you had belonged once in a past life. Letting out a small hum you nodded your head and smiled. “Sure, can’t turn down a good exhibit can I?”.

Your words seemed to delight the young male, a happy smile bright on his face as you both continued to walk to meet your friends. The spirit watched as he pondered over your words, a smirk appearing on his features. He guessed it wouldn’t hurt to give you a chance to help him, Yugi trusted you immensely with major stuff in his life and besides, he couldn’t shake the feeling that you were familiar to him in some way.

[euphreana]

The Shape of Truth - Chapter 4: All Sworded Out

Masterpost

-

‘ACCESS DENIED’ flashed on the lock readout.

“Try it upside down?” Nimona suggested.

ACCESS DENIED.

Ambrosius narrowed his eyes at the ID card reader. He was a knight now - shouldn’t that let him into the archives? Maybe the systems hadn’t been updated yet…

“Hey, you’re not allowed back here!” the voice of an archives worker made Ambrosius jump, “This is a high-security area. You need special clearance to be here.”

“I’m a knight. Isn’t that clearance enough?”

“Not for there.” The worker jerked his head towards the locked door. “If you want to retrieve something, you can fill out a request form with the receptionist.”

Ambrosius grimaced as the worker shooed them from the room. Not more paperwork…

The pink, dog-shaped hallucination by Ambrosius’s side spoke up as soon as they were out of earshot.

“Go wait for me outdoors - I’ll look around back for any windows.” she said with a wink before trotting off around the corner.

Ambrosius wondered what she’d say if she returned - since she was a figment of his imagination, she couldn’t know anything he didn’t, windows included. He glanced back at the room he’d come from. What was he doing anyway? Sneaking into the archives was a bad idea. He could ‘dig’, as Nimona had put it, another way. And he could figure out that other way over breakfast at the tea shop across the street.

~ ~ ~

Ambrosius tried to ignore the judging glances from the other patrons when he entered the shop. No doubt his appearance at the execution yesterday had made the news. He knew he’d hear it from The Director when he went in for work tomorrow - stuff about ‘damage control’ and ‘keeping an appearance worthy of the Goldenloin lineage’, yadda yadda. It was stifling.

He scanned the tea shop menu. Ballister had always ordered the same thing whenever they’d come here; earl gray with milk (not creamer) and sugar. Nobody else Ambrosius knew used milk - his mom had liked it that way and gotten Ballister hooked on it the first time he’d visited. Ambrosius had thought Bal was just humoring her at first, but he’d continued to order it after she’d died. Now there was nobody left to order it...

Ambrosius ordered the earl grey with milk and sugar. He may as well have ordered nothing; once he got it, he couldn’t bring himself to drink it. All he could think about were the two people who used to order this very thing, both dead and gone. The last time he’d seen either of them had been distressing - his mom sick in bed with her hair shorn off, Ballister being dragged away after shooting the queen…

Eventually, Ambrosius reached into his pocket and pulled out a paper packet the size of his fist. ‘Bal’ had been written on it in ink - the only label he could think to give the handful of ash. He held it in his hands. He and Ballister had been inseparable since childhood - even now, Ambrosius couldn’t leave him behind to sit on a nightstand.

His thoughts were interrupted by a woman in a lab coat sitting down opposite him.

“I got it.” She grinned at him. She had Nimona’s voice.

Ambrosius shoved the ash packet back into his pocket, curious about this new form.

“Got what?”

Nimona held up a matching ID badge. “I’m the archives manager! I’ll just walk you in - the real manager’s out and won’t notice her badge is gone for at least an hour.”

It would have been a good plan if Nimona had been real, Ambrosius thought. Just then, a man in a matching lab coat walked up to the table.

“Oh, Priyanka, I thought you were in your office.”

Ambrosius blinked in surprise. He looked up at the man.

“What did you call me?”

“Not you.” The man looked at Nimona. “I could have picked up your order for you.”

Ambrosius’s jaw fell open.

“You can see her too?!”

The man gave Ambrosius a confused look.

Nimona spoke up. “I’ll let you know next time.” she said in what Ambrosius guessed was the manager’s voice.

Ambrosius’s head was spinning so hard, he didn’t notice the man leave. He reached across the table and prodded manager-Nimona’s shoulder.

“You’re real?”

“What, did you think you were imagining things?” Nimona snorted, back in her original voice. “Hooo boy, that explains so much.”

“This doesn’t make sense - you were a girl, then a dog, then—”

“Don’t forget the cat. You gonna drink that?” she pointed at the tea.

When Ambrosius didn’t answer, Nimona popped off the lid and guzzled it down.

“Hoo yeah, good combo. Anyway, you coming?”

“You… what are you?”

“I’m Nimona.”

“But you—”

“Listen, we can sit here talking, or we can get into the archives before the real manager gets back. Are you coming or not?”

Alarm bells were going off in Ambrosius’s head. Nimona was Wrong. He’d never heard of anyone in the kingdom able to change form at will. Where had she come from? From outside the wall? Impossible. Nobody could live out there because of the monsters - huge, hulking creatures with ravenous hunger - and the wall hadn’t been breached for as long as it’d stood. By all logic, Nimona shouldn’t exist. And yet here she was, offering him a chance to get some closure about about the man he’d loved. That couldn’t be wrong… could it?

~ ~ ~

Sure enough, Nimona was able to waltz right into the high-security archives with Ambrosius in tow. Ambrosius tried to play it cool as best he could, but guilt and anxiety pounded in his head. This was a security violation. A necessary one, he told himself - he was doing this for the good of the kingdom. If Bal had been telling the truth, then there was still a murderer on the loose. He couldn’t let that happen, right? And it wasn’t like he could have stopped Nimona from breaking in if she’d wanted to. He was just taking advantage of the situation.

The vault was bigger than he’d expected - rows upon rows of tall shelving units and cabinets labeled from ‘A’ to ‘Z’. There were several windows in one wall letting light in, all of them close to the ceiling and looking securely locked. Otherwise the only source of light was the old buzzing lamps above.

The sword was in a drawer in the B section, under ‘Boldheart’. The charred pieces were laid out on white felt, easy to see even in the flickering lights. Ambrosius carefully picked up a piece of the hilt, remembering the clang it had made when he’d knocked it from Ballister’s hand. He could remember it clearly now, the way the sword had fallen to the ground, shattering into pieces. The way Ballister had looked at him in shock - not the eyes of a murderer, but the eyes of a man horrified.

“Anything jumping out at you?” Nimona interrupted the flashback. She was back in her original form - the punk teenager one.

Ambrosius set the piece down, trying to calm his anxiety jitters.

“Honestly? I don’t even know what we’re looking for.”

Nimona looked down into the drawer.

“Well by the looks of it, it wasn’t a real sword in the first place. Someone took a sword-shaped shell and stuffed a blaster inside.”

That’s what the official write-up had said too. The write-up hadn’t mentioned how realistic the shell had been. The lengths the maker had gone to make it look like the original was phenomenal. Despite it's broken state, Ambrosius could see everything, right down to the scratches on the pommel, had been duplicated perfectly. The only difference was that the replica was hollow inside.

“There’s no way this was a store-bought prop,” he mused, “It had to have been commissioned from a workshop or something.” That didn’t sit right. Where would Bal have gotten the money to pay for it?

“So we are looking for a third party here.” Nimona said gleefully. “A whole workshop of people trying to overthrow the monarchy…”

“Unless they didn’t know what the sword was for. With that many people, someone would have gotten caught by now.” Probably.

“So if they didn’t know when they made it… maybe there’s a maker’s mark or something somewhere?”

It was as good a hunch as any. Ambrosius pulled out his phone and switched on its flashlight. He shone the light on the drawer as Nimona examined the pieces one by one.

“They really did a good job collecting all the pieces.” She muttered. “There’s almost too many to- HEY!” She held up a piece triumphantly - a chunk of the base of the blade. Sure enough, there was a tiny logo stamped into the metal - a crossed hammer and sword. It was just small and faint enough to be missed if you weren’t looking for it.

Nimona held the piece under the flashlight.

“Look familiar at all?”

Ambrosius had no idea. He did a search on his phone for logos matching the description… Bingo.

“‘Arms & Hammer’ - it’s a workshop in the shopping district. By the looks of it… custom swords are their specialty.”

“That’ll be a lot of orders to sort through.” Nimona huffed, “But if we find out who commissioned it, we find the perp.”

Ambrosius was still mulling over the question of who could have paid for the sword. Someone with money had to be behind the assassination. Or maybe several middle-class people. Suddenly, Bal being innocent like he’d claimed seemed less far-fetched.

Ambrosius was about to mention it when the sound of a door banging open echoed through the vault.

“I could have sworn it was you!” the voice of an archive worker resonated off the walls. “She had your ID and everything!”

“Well it wasn’t me.” said the voice of the real manager. “And whatever prankster it was is in a world of trouble.”

Chapter 5

[prince-rowan-of-the-forest]

A Swallow's Symphony In Spring (17/19)

Chapter 17 - Will Some Loving Ease Your Pain?

<- Previous | Masterpost | Next ->

----

Warnings: Talk about trauma/depression/grief

Word Count: 3007

----

The next time Remy visited his cell, it was the middle of the day - not for breakfast or dinner like every other day he came. 

Roman had been busy drawing that chair yet again (from a different angle this time) when he heard the clanking of armour. Quickly he’d shoved his art supplies under his blanket on instinct, before sighing and dropping his shoulders. It’s not like he needed to do that anymore. He was allowed to draw, he just wasn’t allowed to leave. 

“Hey kid,” Remy said, pulling out a set of keys. Roman’s eyes widened as Remy unlocked the door - what in the world was going on? “C’mon, up you get! Your first day of freedom has begun.”

“I- what?” Roman asked, glancing around, immediately he wondered if this was a trick, but Remy seemed pretty serious about this. 

“Janus has given clearance for you to be moved to the medical wing,” Remy explained, walking over and placing a bag down on his bed. “Here, put everything you want to bring with you in here - if all goes well you won't have to come back here.”

“Wait- wait what?” Roman said. He couldn’t hide the fear not understanding caused him - his eyes wide and hands shaking. “The medical wing? But I’m not hurt-”

Remy paused, sighed, and slowed down, much to Roman’s relief. “Janus wants Emile to check you over anyway, just in case,” he explained. “And then there’s also uh - the trauma.”

“Trauma?”

“Kid, not even thinking about everything that’s happened to you before all this, you’ve been stuck in a cell for over a month, and you seem hella depressed too - look, just- go along with it, kay?”

Frowning, still not so sure about this whole plan, Roman started to put his things in the bag. His trinkets got thrown in the bottom, the spare clothes he had been given, the blanket, his art supplies, and, of course, the letters. Roman might have read the last letter an unnecessary amount of times. Did that mean that Virgil really did love him? But why, then? Why had he let all of this happen to him? He hadn’t seen Virgil since Janus had given him the letters, and he still didn’t know what he would say to him even if he had. 

It took him way too long to pack up the bag, especially considering the so few things he had here in the cell, but Remy never seemed angry with him for it, no matter how anxious or worried he got about being too slow - Remy just told him to take however long he needed. Roman had never gotten that luxury before.  

Once he was done, Remy handed him a cloak. 

“What… Do I need this for?” Roman asked, holding it awkwardly as Remy picked up his bag. Remy sighed.

“They’re still trying to figure out how to announce to the palace that you’re still… uh… here, so, for now it’s easier to keep you hidden.” Remy explained. 

“Don’t they know I’m still here?”

“Most people think you were executed.” Remy said bluntly. Roman’s eyes widened, his grip on the scratchy cloak tightened.

“Wh- what?” Roman asked. “Wait- but- then - who died? Who did they kill instead of me?”

“No-one did, hon,” Remy said. “They faked it.”

Roman felt a little silly - of course, they wouldn’t have killed one of their own men, but still - why hadn’t they told him? He didn’t understand - it was just yet another thing they had kept him in the dark about.

“Does Emile know I’m still alive?”

“He knows you’re coming,” Remy said. “Don’t you worry - now c’mon, let's get you somewhere more comfortable.”

—-

The sight of his palace was almost foreign. 

Even the aura was different. The hallways felt brighter, more open, he noticed people walking through them, far more crowded then they had been before and the people were… different. Some were staff, but many were just… people. It almost scared him to see so many people in the palace, his first thought being worried about how the Queen would react before remembering… she was gone, wasn’t she? 

“What’s everyone doing here?” Roman asked Remy as they walked. “Is something going on today?”

“Nope! It’s like this every day now,” Remy said, seeming happy about it, “Janus and Logan have opened the palace gates for anyone in need - it’s been real nice here since they took over.”

“Oh, that’s… that’s lovely, actually,” Roman said softly - he just wished it was something he could have done. These were still his people, people who he hadn’t been able to help. Maybe him ending up in that cell was the best thing he could’ve done for him. 

—-

The medical wing was just as he remembered it, so was Emile’s office. Seeing the familiar face brought him a sense of relief, though the hug he received on Remy opening the door wasn’t quite so expected. Nor was Emile’s blabbering and… apologies.

“It’s- it’s okay, really,” Roman said, awkwardly patting Emile’s back whilst trying to ask Remy for help with his eyes. “You couldn’t do anything - it’s not your fault.”

It turned out that Emile had always felt awful that he had never been able to help Roman more with his parents. Roman knew there was nothing he could’ve done, but he understood. 

“Okay, okay - sorry,” Emile said, trying to discreetly wipe his eyes. “Let's get you set up in a room, hm?”

Roman nodded, feeling a little numb as he followed Emile into the hospital room - where beds were lined up. Emile got a wave from another person in the same uniform - a teen with tied back curly blonde hair and round glasses. Roman had never seen him before - he could only assume he was new. 

Leading him through another door, Emile led him to one of the more private rooms. It seemed surprisingly similar to the cell. Just with the addition of a small desk - though he assumed that was probably for Emile, not him. 

“Hopefully you won't be stuck in here too long,” Emile said with an awkward chuckle. “I mean, technically you’re not trapped here, though we can’t let you go anywhere without that cloak.”

“I guess people can’t be seeing a ghost, huh?” Roman asked bitterly, setting the bag Remy had given him down next to the bed and sitting down. Emile sighed. 

“This isn’t fair on you, Roman,” Emile said softly. “None of this is, I’m sorry it’s all happened like this.”

“I just…” Roman sighed, sitting down on the bed and pulling his knees up to his chest. “You’re the first familiar face I’ve seen since they took over - and- and Remy is really nice but I just - my life might’ve been awful but it was familiar and I just-”

“You miss knowing what you’re supposed to do.” Emile said, sitting down with him. “But… hasn’t Virgil been to see you? I thought…”

Roman scoffed, and turned his face away. “Virgil betrayed me.”

“Ah,” Emile said softly. “Would you like to talk about it?”

“No,” Roman huffed, squeezing his legs tighter, he talked anyway. “He just - he abandoned me, betrayed me, got me locked in a cell, what else is there to it?”

“How did that make you feel?”

After a moment’s consideration, Roman looked down. “Alone,” he said softly. “Scared - he was- he was the first person I’ve trusted in so- so long and he just-”

“I bet that hurt a lot, huh?” Emile said softly. Roman nodded. “Do you still love him?”

Roman’s head snapped up and he stared with wide eyes. “How- how do you know about that? Does everyone know about that?”

“No,” Emile said. “not everyone - Remy just tells me a lot, and he could tell.”

Roman wilted.

“I guess you’re gonna tell me I should talk to him, huh?” Roman mumbled.

“Well…” Emile said with a soft sigh. “It might be a good idea - I mean, if you do love him, it’ll only hurt more the longer you leave it.”

Sighing, Roman shook his head. “I don’t even know what I’d say - I mean - I’ve even read his letters and - and they say he didn’t mean to, but how can I trust him now? What am I supposed to say to him?”

“Just hear him out,” Emile said. “Tell him how you’re feeling, whenever you're ready, okay?”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready,” Roman sighed. “I’m… scared - of what’ll happen when I do.”

“Then I suppose you’ll just have to do it scared, huh?” Emile said, patting his knee. “You’ll be okay, Roman, that’s what I’m here for.”

“To make me okay?”

“Exactly, now - I think you deserve to rest on an actually comfortable bed, hm?” Emile suggested, patting the mattress beneath them. It was much nicer than the bed in the cell. Roman sighed and nodded - he certainly had a lot to think about now.

—

Three days later, Roman awoke to a knock on his door. 

“...Who is it?” He called, voice gritty and low from sleep, he reached for the pitcher of water on his bedside table and poured himself a cup, taking a sip and glancing at the door when he got no response. “Hello?”

The door slowly pushed open to reveal Virgil. Roman sighed softly, looking down at his water. 

“Hey,” Virgil said softly, sounding… sad. Roman knew Virgil well enough to tell that he sounded distant and a little miserable. “Can we… Can we talk? Please?” He asked, still holding the door as though he expected Roman to shoo him away. He wanted to. 

A long, awkward, quiet moment passed, until Roman nodded. 

“Really?” Virgil asked, his hand tentatively leaving the door handle.

“Yes,” Roman said stiffly, still not looking up. “We can talk.”

Ever so slowly, Virgil closed the door behind him and took a few steps into the room. 

“Can I sit?” he asked softly. Roman shrugged, so Virgil pulled the chair out from under the desk and sat down awkwardly next to his bed. “I brought you something.”

“What?” Roman asked, looking up with a frown. What could Virgil have gotten him? Did he expect a gift to fix everything? Because it wouldn’t.

From his bag, Virgil pulled what looked like a piece of green fabric. When he passed it to Roman, he realised it was the scarf they had bought at the festival, green with paler green embroidery. Roman held it for a moment, unable to think of the words to say.

“I know it won't fix anything,” Virgil said after a long moment of silence. “But I thought it might… help?”

Memories of that night came flooding back to him. The way they danced, held each other, kissed for the first time. The way they had fun, got lost in each other - the way Roman had felt normal for once in his life. He looked up at Virgil, hands holding the fabric loosely. 

“Thank you,” he said softly, taking a deep breath. “This meant a lot to me.”

His words felt stunted and impersonal, he felt too formal and like there wasn’t enough there. He just… didn’t know what else to say. There was so much more he could say but he just… couldn’t get the words out. 

“I’m sorry,” Virgil said softly, not moving from his chair. “I’m so sorry - for everything - and I know an apology isn’t going to make up for anything - I’ve lied to you so much. I hurt you- I just- I don’t know what else to say but I’m sorry - I don’t expect you to forgive me, I just- I want the chance to explain everything-”

“I would… appreciate an explanation.” Roman said. He wanted to comfort him, to reach out to Virgil and wipe away the tears that were already falling down his face. Part of Roman thought that he should be the one crying, but he wasn’t. Right now all he felt was empty pain. 

“I was never meant to be your guard,” Virgil said, hugging himself and looking down. “None of this was ever meant to happen - I was- I was supposed to just be some nameless grunt in your parent’s guard, but I got picked at random. I couldn’t tell you why and I was fucking terrified, Roman. I didn’t have a clue what to do with you, especially in the beginning - I thought you’d be like them.”

Roman listened, twisting the fabric between his hands as Virgil explained, it was a plan that had been in the works for years. Virgil had been adopted by Janus and Logan when he was sixteen and brought into their guild - the Swallow was their symbol, that’s why everyone here wore it, that’s why Virgil wore it, that’s why Virgil had dressed Roman in it when they’d gone to the festival, so that the people would identify him as an ally. 

He had known about the attack, he’d wanted to give Roman one last night of happiness just like his letter had said. He had never meant to fall in love with him. 

“But I did,” Virgil said. “I- looking back it was inevitable, you’re- you’re so beautiful and bright, you’re brilliant, so, so smart and kind - you’re so different from what we thought, but I loved you, and I still do.”

This whole time, Roman had been silent. He had sat there and listened to Virgil spill his guts, his life, his story, he had told Roman everything. Everything except what had happened that night.

“If-” Roman said softly. “If all that is true, then why?”

“Why what?” Virgil asked, looking at him with a mix of apprehension and hope - Roman wondered when he had gotten so good at reading him.

“Why did you let them take me?”

“I…” Virgil said, letting out a soft sigh and ducking his head. “I have no excuse for that.”

Roman’s heart sank.

“It was - I didn’t know they would know about the catacombs, truly I didn’t. But then Janus was there and I just-” Virgil squeezed his hands into fists. “It was a horrible lapse in judgement. I was a coward - I’ve wished every second since that I could go back and change what I did, Roman, please I just- I don’t need you to forgive me, what I did was- it was truly horrible I just - I need you to believe me. I’ve lied to you so, so much but I promise I’m not- I’m not lying about this.”

Virgil’s breath hitched and he blinked, looking down as a tear tracked its way down his cheek. Sighing softly, Roman got up crouched down next to him, gently wiping the tear from his face. Virgil looked up, sniffing. 

“Roman-?”

“I believe you,” Roman said softly, he finally felt tears in his own eyes. “I- I read your letters, I wasn’t sure if I should believe them but - I do, I believe you.”

“I missed you,” Virgil whispered, meeting Roman’s eyes. Roman leant forwards to press his forehead to Virgil’s.

“I-” Roman said, voice wobbling. “I was so - so lost and angry that I almost forgot I loved you.”

“Can I hug you?” Virgil whispered. Slowly, Roman nodded and Virgil practically fell from the chair in his haste to get his arms around him. Roman almost fell backwards with the force of it, wrapping his arms around Virgil in return as he lowered them to the floor.

“Roman I’m so sorry,” Virgil said through tears that were now freely flowing. “I’ll - I’ll never do anything like that again, I swear.”

Roman just held him close, “Vee…” Roman said, unable to come up with more words than that, so he just pressed a kiss to Virgil’s shoulder. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” Virgil said, tearful but with a big smile on his face as he clung to him, clutching the back of his shirt and burying his face in his neck - Roman had never seen Virgil like this before. He had always been so composed. Had Roman caused this? 

They stayed like that for a while, with Roman kneeling on the ground and Virgil in his lap, arms wrapped tightly around each other as they exchanged soft words and small kisses. 

“Will you stay?” Roman asked eventually. He didn’t want Virgil to leave him again, not after all of this, even if it was only temporary. “In here with me - I mean - we could nap or just sit or-”

“Yeah,” Virgil said softly. “If you’ll have me, I’d love to stay, I- I don’t care what we do, just-,” 

“Can we at least move to the bed?” Roman asked with a small chuckle. Having Virgil back in his arms was a dream come true, the pain in his knees from kneeling on the floor for so long however, as not. Virgil nodded quickly and got up, offering his hands to help Roman up off of the floor too. 

“They didn’t give you gloves?” Virgil asked, tilting his head as Roman took his hands and got to his feet. He climbed up onto the single bed and opened his arms for Virgil to follow him. 

Roman shrugged, “I didn’t want them anymore.”

For whatever reason, Roman thought Virgil looked proud as he climbed up, pulling the blankets around them and cuddling up to Roman with a soft, happy sigh. 

It wasn’t long at all before they both fell asleep, Virgil nestled against Roman’s chest, both comfortable and fast asleep.

—-

An hour later, Emile came around to check on Roman, accompanied by Janus this time, who couldn’t keep the smile off of their face when they saw the two of them together. 

“How sweet,” Janus said softly, placing another blanket over the two of them. Virgil stirred, but Janus shushed him gently, urging him to go back to sleep. They both certainly needed this.

“Hopefully,” Emile whispered. “This’ll help him a lot.”

“I have a good feeling.” Janus said with a smile, closing the door behind him and continuing on down the hall.

----

<- Previous | Masterpost | Next ->

----

[letitiaslabyrinth]

AT THE END OF THE DAY

warning: angst, family issues/death, soft/quiet shuri, Riri's the best and most patient girlfriend ever, gentle riri, shuri paints as a coping mechanism, Shuri has more tattoos and piercings pairing: Riri x Shuri word count: 1.3k

Shuri walked around her lab, making sure everyone and everything was fine and in working condition. Once she was done and ended up double checking things again, she went over to her own desk to begin working.

Shuri felt her heart beat slightly pick up. She brushed it off and continued what she was doing. But it sped up more. and more and more, until she was breathing heavily and her vision was going in and out.

"Everyone, get out." Her eyes start watering. "GET OUT!" She screams.

The room was empty in seconds.

Shuri put her hand in chest and sank to the floor, crying. "Griot," she says softly.

"Yes, my queen?" The A.I answers.

"Call Riri. Tell her it's an emergency."

"Calling Mrs. Williams now."

Riri rushed into the lab, frantically looking around for her wife. She stopped for a second and heard crying. It was soft but she was able to figure out where it was coming from.

Riri kneeled down next to Shuri, "Baby, what happened?"

Shuris breath hitched in her throat before she looked up and spoke, "I… I was trying to work and my heart, it started picking up but when I tried to brush it off, I-" Riri could see how much talking about it hurt so she brought Shuri into a hug, rubbing circles on her back.

This wasn't the first time Shuri has had a breakdown while trying to get something done. And Riri knew the reasons, too—her family.

Shuri had gotten the news about T'Chala's death when she was here, working, and since then she'd tried to push down whatever sort of block that was trying to stop her from doing anything in the lab. But when Ramonda died? It was the last piece of hope, of fight, of anything that was still in Shuri and all of it was shattered completely. Whenever Shuri tried to work now, flashbacks of what Namor did would run through her mind until she got broke down, just like she did today.

"I wanna go home.." Shuri mumbled into Riri's shirt.

"Okay." Riri wiped away Shuri's tears and helped her up, bringing her all the way out the palace and into their car.

Shuri was in the backseat, laying down with one of Riri's hoodie's and a blanket that was already there.

"You want anything from the store before we go home?" Riri looked in the rear view mirror when she didn't get an answer and saw Shuri shaking her head. Riri said a quiet, "okay." and started their drive home.

Riri carried Shuri to the couch in their living room and gently put her down, trying not to wake her. She kissed her forehead before going to the kitchen to make her wife something simple to eat since she knew Shuri doesn't eat much when she wakes up.

When Riri reaches the couch, a sandwich and hot cocoa in hand, she sees that Shuri isn't there. She puts both down and creeps into Shuri's art room quietly.

Shuri still has on Riri's hoodie and the blanket as she continues to paint the formally white canvas with a myriad of different colors. She's mostly sticking to different shades of purple and orange—her and Riri's colors.

Riri stood in the doorway without a word, letting her wife express herself freely and with no interruptions.

"Ri?" Shuri says, turning her head slightly and putting down the paint brush.

"I'm here." Riri goes to her side and kisses her on the forehead, "I'm right here."

"Thank you." Shuri says softly.

"Of course, mama. You hungry yet or you wanna keep painting?"

"I could eat." Shuri takes the canvas off the easel and hangs it up to dry. She follows Riri out her art room, the blanket still on her shoulders and goes to sit in the couch with her snack and her drink.

"I'ma be right back, alright?" Riri says.

Shuri nods twice, slightly zoning out while she eats.

Riri comes back 15 minutes later with a new outfit on—a Nike's gray sports bra with matching sweatpants and sits down next to Shuri. She notices how Shuri only ate half of her sandwich but finished her cocoa. "You done with your food, mama?"

Shuri shrugs. "I'll probably finish it later or something, just don't throw it away please."

Riri hums and takes the dishes to the kitchen. She puts the rest of Shuri's sandwich in the fridge and washes out her cup. She gets a cup of water for herself before making her way back to her girlfriend.

The two of them watch TV in comfortable silence for the next three hours. The channel switched between things Shuri wanted to watch and things Riri wanted to watch but since they mostly liked the same shows, neither of them minded what the other picked.

Shuri's head is on Riri's lap while Riri drags her fingers over the sleeve tattoo Shuri has on her right arm and among the other ones she has, this one is Riri's favorite. It was the only one with color on it so naturally it stood out.

Shuri feels her eyes dropping and lets herself drift off slightly but not completely.

"I love you," Shuri mumbles softly.

The last person Shuri said that to was her family when she was saying goodbye to them at the beach in Haiti.

Riri froze for a bit, her hand stopping completely. Ever since Shuri's grief started consuming her, she'd stop telling Riri she loved her. Riri knew Shuri loved her but not hearing her say it for a while hurt far more than she thought it would. She would tell Shuri she loved her and not get an answer back, just a soft smile and a kiss on the forehead. Sometimes Shuri would try and say it back but it felt so forced that she just stopped completely.

Riri leans down and kisses the tattoo she was touching, "I love you, too."

Shuri hums happily. "I'm sorry for not saying it more often."

She's being open right now, something she knew she needed to work on when it came to her and Riri's relationship.

"It's okay, mama. I know it's difficult for you."

"How come you're so…"

"Understanding? I don't know exactly what you've been through when it comes to relationships, Shuri, but you shouldn't have to ask to be understood or heard when you're speaking. Especially not when it comes to me, alright?"

"You're the first woman I've been with who isn't…tired of me, yet. You're the first woman I've been with who actually makes me feel like it's okay to have bad days and to not want to get out of bed sometimes and it's new to me. The first time I spent a night at your place, I felt so safe with you and it felt so weird to me because I've never felt like that before and at first I didn't understand it and even now, I still don't…" She sat up as she started rambling. The conversation switched topics three times but Riri didn't bother mentioning it. All that mattered to her is that Shuri was actually talking to her when she was having a bad day. Usually she'd isolate herself in her art room or her "Panther cave", as she liked to call it.

Shuri stops talking, realizing that Riri wasn't saying anything. "Sorry, I completely went off track."

"It's alright, baby." Riri reassures. "I like hearing you talk about things you're passionate about."

"Really?"

Riri nods, "Yes, ma. You can continue if you want."

Shuri doesn't waste any time getting right back on track to what she was talking about.

[im-a-king-baby]

Hiii i loved ELYN so much.

I was hoping for any other tidbits/stories/scenes about Simon carrying the frog in the sock. i just wondered if it was like his comfort object or like the orange sweater etc. .That was one of my favorite scenes when Wille finds it

And/or “i wanted to wake up with you” i dont think i will ever forget that line.

💜 thank youuuu

Okay so I'm sorry this is so very late. Life has been a Lot 😅 hopefully folks are still interested in my ramblings!

<3 <S <3

"I wanted to wake up with you."

Fun fact: I almost cut this line. It was originally in the first draft where Simon never made the late-night-call that led everyone to Bjarstad and I was worried that after I'd made that change this line would put people off Simon, because at this point (in theory) Simon knows that Wilhelm had to get up because of what Simon did during the night so it's a bit unfair to Wilhelm. But then I figured Simon's in withdrawal, he's going to be resentful and frustrated and just because intellectually he knows it's his fault that doesn't mean he's not still having those feelings.

As far as the wanting goes, Simon is just dragging himself through life at the moment. He had this whole spiral of failing to sleep, eventually managed it by basically promising himself a future where he'd wake up and things would still be like they were when they went to bed, just the two of them avoiding the world. Plus withdrawal emotions, plus Candace showing up, the bubble is fully burst and this line is Simon tired and resentful and having to face it.

In case you're interested in how things change in editing, this is the first draft version of this moment (in this version Candace showed up basically the moment the queen left which would have been one hell of a coincidence).

“People always leave before I wake up. Maybe they think I’ll be less fun sober, probably they’re right.” “I wasn’t trying to leave you.” “Okay.” It’s the same tone of voice, accepting but not believing. “Are you going back to Stockholm with her?” He pushes himself off the wall, crossing into the kitchen and opening cupboards at random. It’s Friday morning. Wilhelm is due on TV at six PM. He’s supposed to be attending multiple prep meetings, seeing a stylish and a make-up artist before that. Minou is no doubt already at full panic stations. “I can stay if you want me to.” He stands up as Simon emerges from a cupboard with a half full bottle of vodka. “I can help you look for a lawyer. Or we could go for a walk.” Simon unscrews the bottle. “If you want to go, you can go.” The roar of an engine surges outside. Simon is closer to the window, and Wilhelm sees the moment his face shuts down, the inevitability of it, a moment before he sees Candace emerge from a sleek white car. “I want to be here for you. If you’ll let me,” Wilhelm says, picking at a conversation that’s already died as Simon braces his shoulders like a solider going into battle and tilts the bottle up to take three long swallows. Candace raps three times on the door. “Simme! Open this door right the fuck now.” Simon looks at Wilhelm over the bottle. “I wanted to wake up with you.”

x🐸🐸🐸x THE FROG x🐸🐸🐸x

After six hours of meetings a car comes to drive him to the hotel. Rachel tells him to order whatever he likes from room service and to be in the lobby for seven thirty the next morning and then he’s letting himself into a luxury hotel room. There’s a lounge, a bedroom, a bathroom with a full size bath and a separate shower with six different heads.

He takes the frog out of his bag and places it on the bedside table overlooking the pillow then pulls out his phone. He’d messaged Wilhelm when he arrived (Landed! Hopefully someone comes to pick me up!) and now he sees Wilhelm has texted three times since.

Good luck! La doesnt know whats hit it! Everything okay? I’m awake, no plans today whenever you want to call

Simon texts back: Sorry! Dumped straight into meetings all day. I’m kind of exhausted, can we do tomorrow?

Wilhelm: Of course! Jet lags a bitch. Sleep well, I love you xxx

Simon picks up the menu off the side but his stomach is still protesting the bagel it thinks it had in the middle of the night and he kicks off his trainers and his jeans and crawls into the mega bed.

After a moment, he reaches over and picks up the frog again, runs his thumb across the nose, and settles back down with it’s weight firm in his palm as he types: Love you toox

x🐸x

Candace tells him they’re going to Sweden in the same matter-of-fact voice she uses to tell him anything. The label won’t approve a third single. We have to crowdfund plane tickets. We can’t afford to keep the whole band, who can you live without? I’ve booked us a week in Stockholm and put word out to local news sites and venues, we’ll be taking the buses up there after Paris.

Simon reaches for his backpack on instinct, touches the front pocket where Wilhelm’s frog has been nestled since they left L.A. “Should I… I should call Wilhelm, right? Let him know?”

Candace glances at him over her iPad. “Sure,” she says. “Let me know if you need me to put him on the List.”

Simon leaves the meeting, twisting his phone over and over between his hands. They’re going to Sweden. For the first time since he flew out and it’s - he glances at his phone again - it’s September.

Fuck, it’s September. It’s September 2024, somehow. It’s been over a year since he left Sweden, since he last saw Wilhelm. He scrolls through the contacts on his phone but Wilhelm isn’t in there, of course Wilhelm isn’t in there, Simon got this phone back in L.A. and he hadn’t had time to transfer anything across. That had been last Christmas. Ten months ago and god, where had that time gone?

He could ask Candace to get Wilhelm’s number. That’s what she does, she sorts things. Wilhelm doesn’t answer the phone to unknown numbers. Obviously. But Simon could write a text or something. Hi, this is Simon. I know you said there was no way we could make it work because I was so busy all the time but I’m going to be in Sweden and I’ll still be busy all the time and you’re probably off in the army somewhere but -

It sounds stupid. It is stupid. There is no ‘but’, they don’t work and that has always been abundantly clear.

He unzips his backpack and the frog is there in it’s tiny golden crown, glitter still clinging to the paint because glitter is a bitch that can never be removed.

There’s a scratch across it’s nose, deep enough that Simon’s nail can catch against it. Hi Wilhelm, this is Simon, I know we haven’t talked for a while but I need to give you your frog back because you trusted me to keep one thing safe and I couldn’t even -

He scrolls back up his contacts to Guitar, Kevan and types: drinks?

His suitcase is at the edge of the room, surrounded by a scattering of costume pieces and toiletries. He digs through chains and glitter to find a pair of probably-clean socks and tucks the frog inside, where it’ll be safe.

His phone buzzes: party in 267

He just needs something to calm his nerves, to settle his stomach.

He’ll ask Candace to get the number tomorrow. Or, there’s a show tomorrow, next time he has a free minute.

He tucks the bundle down into the case and heads out of the room.

x🐸x

His case is still on the floor of his bedroom half full from tour. Technically he’s been back in L.A. for two months but unpacking was one of those ‘I’ll do it later’ things that has now somehow come full circle. He tugs out clothes, nudging them into the ever growing laundry for the cleaners to pick up once he’s gone.

His hand finds something solid and he pulls it out. Socks, with something inside, and his throat catches as he remembers September, Sweden. Everyone talking to him in Swedish, fans screaming 'jag älskar dig!' like it wasn’t… like…

Candace promised the next tour could skip it. And if he’s not going to Sweden, he can’t give the frog back, so there’s no point having it. He doesn’t need it.

He folds the socks around it a little tighter, stands up to push it into the back of his sock drawer, underneath everything else. It’ll be safer there.

Two days later the taxi is honking it’s horn outside as he runs back into the room, upends the whole drawer on the floor and grabs the wrapped bundle, shoving it into his pocket on his way out the door.

x🐸x

There’s a fresh bruise forming on his collarbone, a faded one on the side of his neck, a man whose name he doesn’t know snoring face down on the cheap polyester pillows.

He runs his thumb back and forth across the nose of the tiny frog statue, lets his head thump back against the wall to stare up at the ceiling and count down the hours until dawn.

[cinderswrites]

Frayed ::

three

In the midmorning hours the following day, Rhea had rushed through her chores and was getting cleaned up, putting on the dress that Portia had pulled out yesterday. She smoothed it over her figure, picking off a stray hair. From the bottom of the same closet she pulled out a pair of worn but decent looking dark brown shoes. These were salvaged from Scarlett’s massive collection.

Once feeling like she looked representable enough as a commoner, she grabbed one of her handmade bags and slung it over her shoulders. She didn’t expect to buy anything, mostly because she wasn’t paid to be a servant in her own home, and what she did have, she saved for only worst-case scenarios. But if she found a pretty flower, or a nice rock, she might pick it up to liven up her room a bit. She also had her sketching journal stashed inside which held many designs of dresses and clothing she wanted to make.

Bidding farewell to Portia, she left through the front door, feeling a strange sensation coming over her. How long had it been since she left without anyone demanding her presence, or anyone forbidding her from doing so? Years, definitely. Before the funeral and before Thelma, she was almost certain of that. Stepping down the stone steps and onto the path towards town, Rhea took a deep breath of clean air that had the slightest smell of the sea and smiled.

Median Shores was a quaint place. It used to be just a few houses of the nobles closest to the prior king. These days, it was a proper town, with more housing and shops and a proper town square. King Roland had been strict but fair, and he was also charming from what Rhea knew. He had a wife, but she ended up disappearing sometime before Rhea had been born. Because of her disappearance, the king fell ill and was sick for a long time. The searches for the queen eventually stopped once he neared death. When he died, there was no one to assume the throne other than his brother, the current king, Gareth Edwards.

Rhea remembered Gareth. He had lived with his family just down the road from her family. As she passed the now dilapidated structure, she paused and examined the yard. It was overgrown, with natural weeds and wildflowers growing thick and unruly. In her mind’s eye, she remembered herself and Cynfael, Gareth’s only child, running around and playing games together. Kicking a ball back and forth once in a while as their fathers visited over foreign relations and their mothers swapped family recipes. Both children on the ground, watching a line of ants marching towards food or their home. Days like that were rare back then, and impossible after Gareth took over the kingdom.

The last time Rhea and Cynfael had spent any time together was after King Roland’s funeral. They sat side by side on the beach, watching the water. The sun was setting and it was still a few days before the coronation.

Cynfael had picked up a stone and chucked it out with all the force a thirteen year old boy could muster. He let out a shout after it, hitting the sand with his fist. Rhea observed him quietly, and offered some words after he’d calmed down, “It’s okay, you know. To be mad, and to not like the situation you’re presented with.”

Cynfael sniffed and swiped at his eyes with his shirt sleeve. “It’s not fair. None of it is! Because he died, now my life has to change and I… I won’t get to see you anymore.”

“Nonsense!” Rhea declared boldly. “Your dad will be king, and he’ll be one of the best we’ve ever had. You’ll see. He knows we’re friends, and he wouldn’t isolate you from your friends, right?”

He had looked at Rhea with a dampness to his amber eyes, “I suppose not…”

Rhea smiled brightly, reaching over to pat his hand, “Keep your head up, Cynfael. Everything will be okay.”

The boy nodded, “Can you promise me something?”

“Depends on the something,” she teased.

“Marry me. When we’re older, marry me so we never have to be apart!”

Rhea’s eyes went wide and her face heated up with his brazen proclamation. “I-“

He suddenly held up his hands, face paling. “Wait! Don’t answer. I don’t think I could handle it if you said no. Just… forget it.” She didn’t say anything, but after a few moments of silence both of them started giggling. Despite his seriousness, or lack of awareness of what he’d just asked, they had ended the evening on a brighter note than they entered it. That last day became a fond memory in her mind, and she’d hoped and prayed that he had grown into a fine gentleman as the years passed. It had been a while since the last time she’d thought of Cynfael, especially since she was cut off from most of the news in the kingdom aside from what was overheard in her own house.

Taking another deep breath to recenter herself and clear her mind, she gave a small wave to the old house and continued down the path to town.

***

Almost an hour later, she found herself in the town square, examining different trinkets and wares from various sellers. According to one of the townspeople she’d asked, today was the monthly Crafters’ Guild Market. Many people in the guild came to sell their products, much like the Farmers’ Markets she and her mother visited when she was a child. There were merchants and many more townspeople milling about, hauling wagons with goats or donkeys. Rhea found it fascinating.

She was bent over looking at a spinning flower pendant curiously just as there was a loud shout from a few stalls away. “Thief!” one of the merchants shouted at a thin woman.

“No!” the woman cried. “I swears by the heavens, I haven’t stolen a thing!”

Rhea stood up and walked closer, drawn in by the crowd forming. As a thin young woman herself, she slipped easily between people to see what was happening. An older man with a round belly was pointing to an empty spot on his table and he had one of the woman’s wrists in his other hand, clenching tightly. “Guards! Someone find the guards! This woman right here is a thief! She stole one of my fabrics!”

A low murmur passed through the crowd. Rhea noticed the fear in the woman’s eyes and her gaze traveled to the goat standing just behind the woman. There was a peculiar piece of “grass” hanging from its mouth. Rhea’s eyes moved to the man’s feet, just underneath the table. There was the crumpled pile of fabric, matching the piece in the goat’s mouth. She wondered if anyone else had noticed this while the man was still screaming about the theft.

Thudding footsteps alerted her to the sound of the guards coming, and she made the decision to step forward. She bent down to pick up the fabric on the ground and cleared her throat quietly. The man looked around before turning and seeing her. Noticing the fabric in her hands, he looked at her confused. “Pardon me, sir,” Rhea started, her voice calm. “Is this the fabric you’re missing?”

The man regarded her silently before dropping the other woman’s hand and nodding, “It is.”

“It was lying just under the table there. It seems the goat took a liking to it,” she added, amused.

He turned again to look at the goat, then groaned and snatched the fabric from her hands. He said something in a language she didn’t know and walked around to the back of the table. The woman stepped up to her and put her hand on her shoulder. “Oh, thank ye, miss, thank ye!” she said in a shaky voice. She scolded the goat and tugged on the leash as she hurried away from the man’s table.

The crowd dispersed and two guards had stepped up to talk to the man. Rhea smiled a little and turned to continue her browsing. Just as she did, she ran into someone’s chest. “Oh! Excuse me, I didn’t see you,” she apologized, stepping back to put space between them.

“Rhea?” an unfamiliar voice said her name.

She looked up, blinking. A man, taller than her by a few inches, stood with another even taller man at his side. He had short raven colored hair slicked back and shaved at the sides, with inquisitive amber eyes, a color that sparked her memory. “Cynfael?” she asked, astounded.

“You will address the royal prince accordingly, miss,” the man next to her old friend said in a gruff tone. Rhea noticed his piercing green eyes, the color of which reminded her of thick bright river moss. His mahogany colored hair was slightly longer than Cynfael’s and was left wavy, almost disheveled. She noticed a thick scar across his brow before she averted her gaze shyly.

“Alaric, please,” Cynfael put his hand on the man’s shoulder, “Rhea’s a friend, and she’s Henri Sr.’s daughter.”

The man named Alaric cleared his throat and adjusted his stance. “I wasn’t aware he had a third daughter. Please excuse my ignorance, my Lady.”

“O-oh, no, I’m not a lady. Please, just call me Rhea,” she said nervously, avoiding that intense stare.

Cynfael chuckled quietly, “It’s so nice to see you after all this time!” he exclaimed, raising his arms as if measuring the years between them. “You’ve grown so much.”

“You should talk,” she smiled, “there was a time, if I remember correctly, where I was taller than you once.”

He puffed out his chest, placing one of his hands on it like a proud pigeon strutting around. “Thank you.”

“What are you doing out here? Shopping?” Rhea asked, gesturing to the market.

“On a leisurely stroll, as it were. I like to come to town and see how people are doing,” the prince said, looking around. “We heard the commotion from the street over and came right away.”

Cynfael gestured to the man next to him and suddenly became embarrassed. “I apologize, I haven’t introduced you. Forgive my lack of manners,” he turned back to Rhea, “this is Alaric Vaughn, Captain of the Royal Guard. My babysitter, for lack of a better word.”

Rhea grinned at the joke, turning to offer her hand to the captain. “Pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“Likewise, Lady Rhea,” Alaric took her hand and brought it to his lips. The stubble around his mouth poked her skin lightly, and the feeling of his warm touch sent pleasant shivers up her arm. She blushed, feeling out of place.

“Are we interrupting you right now?” Cynfael asked.

Rhea shook her head, “Not at all! It’s the first time in a while I’ve been out, so I was surprised to see this market. I was just looking around.” “Doing some shopping of your own?”

Her smile was more polite than anything as she shook her head sadly, “’fraid not, my friend. My purse is lacking, to put it mildly.”

Realization crossed over the prince’s face, “Didn’t the port master leave yesterday for Silverwater? Why are you here?”

“Ah, yes,” she shifted her weight uncomfortably, “Father and Thelma left with their children.” Her words were matter-of-fact and didn’t offer any more than that.

Alaric’s ever-aware gaze flicked between the two and he spoke up to clear the awkward air, “Perhaps, my Prince, Lady Rhea here was left to ensure the upkeep of the home while they’re gone.”

Cynfael nodded, “Of course. My apologies for questioning you so, Rhea.”

Rhea shook her head and waved her hands, “It’s no trouble, don’t worry about it.”

“Well, since we’re here and it’s a rare occasion, would you mind joining me for tea?” Cynfael smiled kindly at her. “Perhaps a meal?”

Her eyes flicked between the kind face of her old friend and the steely expression of the captain. “I-I don’t have any money—“

“It’ll be my treat, Rhea,” Cynfael interrupted her. In a softer voice he added, “Please let me do this for you.”

She looked down at her hands while she ran excuses through her head. No matter what she said, he’d try to interject into her plans. That’s just how Cynfael was. She smiled at the thought that she was here, in the flesh, to see he hadn’t changed, that the royal life hadn’t made him cold or hardened. Rhea finally nodded, “Of course, Prince. That sounds lovely.”

“Fantastic!” Cynfael grinned, walking forward and placing a hand on the small of her back as they escorted her out of the market. “I know a little place overlooking the water.”

She felt both joy and trepidation at the impromptu lunch invitation, wondering if her earlier observations were completely accurate about the prince. Not only that, but it had been so long that she’d conversed with anyone other than children or Portia. What if she made a fool of herself? Talked herself into a corner? She couldn’t let him find out about the state of her wellbeing, not right now. Her burdens were her own to bear, she believed that and reminded herself of it as she continued to walk with both men.