#they’ve been erased from the minds of all who saw them

[future-crab]

ADHD really can make you feel like you’re being attacked by that homophobic vase from the Magnus Archives

[axiina]

what about aemond x niece reader but aegon has always been in love with her? she is betrothed to aemond and they’ve always had a thing for the other but aegon has been head over heels for her since he can remember 👀

Always the last

Pairing: Aegon Targaryen x niece!reader, Aemond Targaryen x niece!reader

Summary: The firstborn son, always the last. It was like a mockery of the gods. To give him birthright but take away the one he wanted more than anything in the world.

Words: 1k

Themes: angst, no comfort, basically aegon is obsessed with reader, kind of self harm? (too much alcohol to silence pain), addictions

Warnings: delulu fanon aegon, kind of self harm? (too much alcohol to silence pain), addictions, incest (it's targaryens so obviously)

Author's note: I'm back, and I hope for longer. At first, it was supposed to be a more aemond x reader, but I changed my mind, and it ended up as angst from aegon's perspective. I'm sucker for my delulu fanon aegon. if you want more, my asks are open!!

Aegon knew he shouldn't get his hopes up. The life he imagined with his niece by his side was simply not going to happen.

He didn't deserve her. And even if it were otherwise, nothing would come of it. He had already been married to Helaena for years.

It just didn't make sense, and Aegon was well aware of that. So why did it hurt him so much? Why then, when he heard his father's decision about the betrothals of Aemond and his niece, did Aegon feel as if his life had just been put to rest? Why did it hurt so much? The knowledge that it would be Aemond who would be able to watch her sleep blissfully, hug her, kiss her, and spend the rest of his life with her didn't allow him to function.

He is the first-born son, and yet always the last.

So he turned to drinking and whoring. Aegon was never a serious man. He was always more interested in pleasure than any duty and this time was no different either. He didn't want to think anymore.

He didn't want to think about her, so to silence those disturbing thoughts, he would get drunk to the point of unconsciousness, unable to get her out of his head.

He would do anything to forget, to silence the pain and the voice that reminded him that it should have been him all along.

Aegon drank day and night with no desire to stop it. In every spare moment, all he could think about was his niece. The girl whose smile could light up the darkest corner and whose touch made his heart beat faster.

He knew it was wrong. He knew he should forget her. After all, she was his brother's betrothed. But there was nothing he could do about it.

No matter how much he tried to push away thoughts of her, no matter how much he tried to hide his feelings, he couldn't.

He couldn't forget the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed or the way her hair fell around her face like a waterfall. He couldn't forget her scent and the smile that made his heart flutter. He couldn't forget the way her hand felt in his, or the way her fingers traced patterns on his skin. Even if it was years ago when they were children. When life was easier.

He couldn't forget her. He was completely and utterly infatuated.

And it was killing him.

Every time he saw her with his brother, every time he saw them laughing and joking together, it felt like a dagger in his heart. He knew he should be happy for Aemond, but he couldn't. He was too consumed with jealousy, too consumed with the thought that she should be his betrothed and not his brother's.

He knew it was selfish and even unreasonable. But he couldn't help it.

He couldn't bear the thought of her being with someone else. Not when he had wanted her so much for so long. Not when he had spent years admiring her from afar, unable to do anything but dream of what might have been if things had turned out differently.

No amount of alcohol could erase his memories, no amount of pleasure could dull the pain in his heart.

She was always there, on the edges of his mind, tormenting him with her sweetness, beauty and innocence.

The pain in Aegon's heart only grew when he saw them together.

The sight of Aemond's eyes brightening as he looked at her, the way he leaned in to listen closely every time she spoke, the small smile that appeared on his lips when she laughed, all of it made Aegon's insides twist into a knot.

He felt as if a cold, strong hand was squeezing his heart and squeezing it tighter and tighter with each passing moment.

He tried to look away, to divert his attention, but he couldn't. His eyes always returned to them, drawn to their sight like a moth to a flame. He tried to tell himself that he should be happy for Aemond, that he should be happy that his brother had found someone to make him happy, but he couldn't.

He was filled with a burning jealousy from which he could not shake.

He couldn't stand it.

He couldn't look at them together, see the happiness on their faces, the warmth in Aemond's gaze. It was like a thousand needles piercing his heart with every passing second. He wanted to scream, tear them apart, take her away from her brother, and claim her as his own. He wanted to sink his face into her hair and inhale her scent, to wrap his arms around her and never let her go.

But he couldn't.

He couldn't do any of those things. He was trapped, watching from the sidelines as Aemond, his younger brother, his other son, always the more loved one, was now the one who could be with her. The one who could hold her hand, kiss her, and share her life. Aegon could only stare at it, feeling the bitter taste of jealousy on his tongue.

She was like a drug, an addiction he couldn't shake off. Every time he saw her, his heart sped up, his palms sweated, and his throat tightened.

And every time she smiled at Aemond, her eyes shining with affection, his heart broke all over again.

He knew that Aemond deserved someone like her in his life. But he couldn't help it. Jealousy was consuming him. It was destroying him.

Aegon knew he was not the right choice for her. He was too weak, too selfish, too impulsive.

He was a drunkard, a lustful man, one who lacked discipline and self-control. He would disappoint her, hurt her, and ultimately break her heart.

But that didn't stop him from wanting her, from lusting after her like a drug. Every thought of her filled his mind, every memory of her haunted his dreams.

She was like a bright, shining candle in a dark, cold world, and he was drawn to her more and more because he couldn't have her.

He was the firstborn son, the eldest, the one who was supposed to get everything.

And yet he was always the last. Last in his father's eyes, last in his mother's heart and now last in the race to her heart.

It was like a cruel joke, a mockery of the gods, that they had given him the birthright but taken away the one thing he wanted, the one person he wanted more than anything.

[justtr]

✰ ✰ ✰

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Gods & monsters by Lana del rey

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

The silence in the house was comfortable, yet filled with small sounds that kept you present. The creak of the floor beneath your bare feet, the soft hum of the ceiling fan, the flick of a lighter breaking the monotony. Billie was sitting on the couch, one leg crossed beneath her body, her posture relaxed but her mind clearly elsewhere.

The air had a hint of tobacco, mixed with the sweet scent of the candles she had lit earlier. In the dim light, her hair seemed darker, the reddish highlights at the tips barely visible. You didn’t look at her directly, but you could feel her presence, magnetic as always.

“Do you think this makes sense?” Her voice broke the silence, soft but carrying something more. She wasn’t looking at you; her eyes were fixed on the ceiling, as if the answer was written there.

“What do you mean?” you asked, putting down the book you’d been pretending to read.

“All of this.” She made a gesture with her hand, encompassing more than just the room, more than the house. “The fame, the expectations, the people who think they know me just because they’ve heard a

You took a second to process her words, but before you could respond, she let out a sarcastic laugh. “It’s like being a god on an altar. Everyone worships you, but no one really sees you. It’s exhausting.”

You stood up from the couch where you’d been sitting and moved closer to her, sitting on the edge of the sofa. “You don’t have to be a god with me,” you said, your fingers brushing lightly over her arm.

Billie lowered her gaze to you, and for a moment, her impenetrable façade seemed to crumble. Her eyes, as intense as always, were filled with something you recognized: fatigue, fear, a desire for something real. “You say that now,” she murmured, bringing the cigarette to her lips, “but in the end, everyone wants something.”

Letting go of my tightly pressed lips, which hurt as I separated them, I took the cigarette from her, which was about to damage her lungs, and extinguished it on the table next to the couch. She didn’t even move a muscle. It’s not that she liked smoking that crap… It was just that she was running out of ideas on how to push away her overwhelming feelings.

“Not me.”

“Not you?” The hint of humor in her response made your heart tremble a little.

You shook your head, and before you could say anything else, she moved her head, and her body followed as she left her pathetic lounging position on the couch, leaning toward you. “Then why are you here?”

It wasn’t an accusatory question. It was pure curiosity, mixed with that insecurity that sometimes slipped into her words. “Because with you, I feel something different,” you said, your voice dropping. “Like, for once, I don’t have to try to be enough. Like I can just be… me.”

Billie let out a sigh, leaning back against the couch as she closed her eyes. Her hands, calloused from years of touring and playing guitar, rested on her knees. You could see the tension in her shoulders, the way she breathed deeply as if trying to release a weight she’d been carrying for far too long.

“It’s weird,” she said after a while, her voice lower, like she was speaking to herself. “I never thought I’d find something like freedom here, with you.”

“Why not?”

She opened her eyes and looked at you again, this time with a small smile that didn’t quite erase the melancholy in her expression. “Because freedom is dangerous. It’s easy to get lost in it.”

As you looked at her, something in her posture seemed almost unreal, as if she wasn’t a real person but a carefully composed image, a character from some movie you didn’t even know you were acting in. The way her hair fell over her shoulders, the curve of her mouth as she exhaled the smoke; everything seemed designed for chaos, to entangle you in the mix of art and life that had always surrounded her.

You knew she wasn’t perfect. You knew the Billie everyone saw wasn’t the Billie who was now in front of you, barefoot and disheveled on the couch, but still, there were moments like this when you wondered if you could ever reach her level. Not in terms of fame or talent, but in that overwhelming presence she seemed to fill every space with.

“When you speak,” you thought, not daring to say it aloud, “it’s like everything around you is a movie, and I’m just trying to learn my lines.”

It wasn’t insecurity, not exactly, but there was something that made you question every little detail about yourself when you were with her. Like if you were a little prettier, a little more interesting, a little more something, you could fit better into the role she seemed to have written for you without realizing it.

“You know?” you began to say, breaking the silence without realizing you’d spoken. She looked at you with that intensity she always had, like her eyes could pierce you.

“What?”

“Sometimes I think that this, you and me… it’s too much to be real.” You lowered your gaze to your own hands, unsure how to finish the sentence. “Like, I don’t know, I’m waiting for something to ruin it.”

She studied you for a few seconds, her expression changing slightly, becoming a bit softer. “Do you think life is that hard?”

You didn’t know what to say.

“Because it’s not.” Billie leaned forward, her eyes locking onto yours. “It’s complicated, sure, but you don’t have to make it harder than it already is.”

“Easy for you to say.” You tried to sound lighthearted, but your voice betrayed something deeper.

“It’s not, really.” She leaned back against the couch, her tone softer, almost whispering. “But if you let things consume you, they’ll devour you. No one will take your soul unless you give it to them.”

Sounds logical, you thought. But it wasn’t that simple, not when you were sitting in front of someone who seemed to have it all while you were struggling with your own fears. “And if I’m not enough…”

“It’s not about that,” she interrupted, with a firmness you didn’t expect but needed. “It’s not about being enough for me or anyone. It’s you. And if you can’t see that, then it doesn’t matter what I see.” She had already stood up abruptly from the heat under the sharp lamp.

・❥・・❥・・❥・

The silence in the room was thick, almost palpable. Billie was sitting at the edge of the bed, her elbows resting on her knees, hands clasped together, staring at an invisible point on the floor. The soft light of the lamp created shadows on her face, accentuating the weight she seemed to carry on her shoulders.

You approached slowly, noticing how her fingers tensed at the sound of your steps. She didn’t look up, but when you sat beside her, her body leaned just slightly toward yours, as if seeking your closeness without daring to ask for it.

Her calloused hands now rested on her thighs, her knuckles white from gripping so tightly. You lifted one hand, touching hers carefully, and the ease with which she exhaled almost broke your heart. She didn’t say anything, but her fingers interlaced with yours, a silent anchor in a sea of chaotic thoughts.

You looked at her, waiting for her to speak, but she only closed her eyes for a moment, her lashes trembling as if she was fighting something she couldn’t put into words. Instead of speaking, her fingers brushed against yours more firmly, a small gesture but full of meaning.

Her other hand found your face, caressing your cheek with a clumsiness you hadn’t expected from someone so sure of herself. When she finally lifted her gaze, her eyes were a scribble of emotions: pain, regret, something that seemed like a plea.

“Don’t let this change you,” she murmured at last, her voice so soft it was barely audible.

Confusion crossed your face, but before you could ask, Billie leaned forward and rested her forehead against yours. The contact was gentle, almost reverent, as if she were afraid that one wrong move would break something.

Her lips moved, but the words got stuck in her throat. Instead, she let her actions speak. The way her hand traveled to the base of your neck, how her fingers traced the line of your collarbone, as if she were trying to memorize every detail.

When she finally spoke again, she didn’t look you in the eyes. “I didn’t want to lose what I was before this.”

A knot formed in your throat as you heard her, because you knew exactly what she meant. She, the woman who seemed to have everything, felt like she had nothing to give you except her flaws, the broken pieces she was trying to put together.

Billie lowered her gaze, as if embarrassed for having said too much. But her hands, which never stopped touching you, told another story. They wanted you to know she was there, that she always would be, even if she couldn’t say it with words. Her fingers grazed your skin with a mix of fear and need.

There was something in the way her eyes kept avoiding yours, as if looking too deeply would make her vulnerable, as if she feared you might see everything she was trying to hide.

Suddenly, she let go of you, but not to pull away. With a slow, deliberate movement, her hand slid to your jaw, tilting your face toward hers. There was no rush, no urgency; just a moment of pure connection, as if everything else had disappeared.

Her lips met yours with a delicacy you didn’t expect. It was a kiss full of meaning, a silent language that said everything she couldn’t express out loud. She held you as if you were something precious and fragile, but at the same time, her kiss was firm, sure, conveying a silent promise that she wouldn’t let you fall.

Her fingers gently buried themselves in your hair as she deepened the kiss, letting out a barely audible sigh against your lips. It was as if she was trying to etch you into her memory, as if she wanted to make sure that this moment, this instant, would be marked forever.

When she finally pulled away, it was slow, as if it hurt to let you go. Her eyes finally met yours, and what you saw there took your breath away: honesty, vulnerability, love.

“I don’t know how to say it,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “But I hope you can feel it.”

And you did. In every touch, every kiss, in the way her hands continued to touch you as if you were her only anchor.

Porque en ese momento no hacían falta palabras. Lo que compartían era algo que trascendía el lenguaje, algo que sólo se entendía a través de cada pequeño gesto y de un beso que, sin necesidad de hablar, lo decía todo.

"Esto es el cielo, lo que realmente quiero" Es la inocencia perdida

okay soo.. that was my first writing everr..the song deserved a damn interpretation

[blossom-hwa]

memory lane | j.yh

I'm nearly two years late but in my defense I had this written for months already, I was just too lazy to create a graphic for it until now. anyway, this was sparked by the memory lane trip that dr. strange took in multiverse of madness - there are definitely spoilers (check the warnings below) and this story might be confusing if you haven't seen the dr. strange and spiderman movies so keep that in mind!

I made some changes to the plots of both movies, so bear this in mind - y/n instead of mingi (ned's counterpart) is the one with sorcery potential and later joins dr. strange at the sanctum, so y/n is the one who goes universe hopping with america chavez and ends up replaying memories they'd forgotten from when dr. strange erased all memories of spiderman (yunho). this story takes place after they've defeated wanda and returned to the sanctum. this should sum up the biggest changes, hope it helps :)

Pairing: Yunho x gender neutral!reader

Genre: angst (happy ending), Spiderman!au

Warnings: spoilers for the last Dr. Strange and Spiderman movies

Word Count: 5.3k

When you return to the Sanctum, armed with a name and the knowledge of a love you don't remember, you go searching for answers. 

Ateez Masterlist

When the dust has cleared at Mount Wungadore and they’ve all made it back to the Sanctum, it takes Strange a few hours to realize that there’s something wrong with his apprentice. Not just the exhaustion, not just the trauma of universe hopping and fighting the most powerful witch in all of the infinite number of universes in existence—that would be normal. This is something different. Something darker.

Something more broken.

“Dr. Strange,” you say later that night when it’s just the two of you, everyone else gone to bed. Flames crackle in the fireplace, glowing weirdly on your face. “Do you remember what happened with Spiderman?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Spiderman?” He knows you were there, remembers that’s how he became aware of your potential for sorcery, but you’ve never really talked about it.

“Yeah.”

He tells you what he remembers. A spell, rips in the universe, a vigilante who wouldn’t let the aberrations die. The mirror dimension, hanging over the Grand Canyon for way too fucking long, and a second spell to right the wrongs of the first.

You take it all in silence, not a single question asked until the end. “Do you remember what the second spell was?”

He looks at you. You don’t look back.

“No.”

“…Okay.”

He ends up leaving first, exhaustion pulling his eyelids down to the point he can barely keep them open as he climbs up the Sanctum’s stairs. He tells you to rest, and you nod, but he’s still not quite certain you heard.

You probably didn’t. Because in the morning when he wakes, you’re gone, only a text left on his phone to give any clue as to where you went.

Gone to visit a friend. I’ll be back. I’m fine.

Please don’t follow me.

. . . . .

Standing in front of the apartment door, an arm raised to knock, you feel like time has been frozen still.

“Memory Lane. Replay your significant memories, now at a discounted price! We remember, so you don’t forget.”

A boy in the spider-suit, face bloodied, eyes broken. A wavering smile on his lips that couldn’t disguise the tears rolling down his face. Hugging you and Mingi with arms so strong but trembling so much you could—you could almost feel them shaking around your shoulders. Eyes zeroing in on the wound on your head, a short gash that left the scar you could never for your life remember where it came from—

He saw it. And asked about it. And heard your babbled reassurances, instinctively steadying you on your bad leg (how did he know? How did he know if you never knew him?) as you and Mingi tried to speak, before saying the words you don’t remember.

“You’re going to forget who I am.”

You swallow hard, trying to reconcile the smiling boy you’d met during your third fight ever with the broken, bloodied man standing before you in that moment. They had the same suit—nearly. Not quite. But they had the same face. The same eyes.

And though you didn’t have a name then, now you do.

“I love you.”

“I love you, Yunho Jeong.”

You loved a boy whose name you don’t know. And he—

He loved you too.

Nausea rolls in your stomach. Your arm has begun to ache from holding it up for so long, but you can’t bring yourself to knock. What if he refuses to hear you? What if he doesn’t want you to remember, doesn’t want you to ask? What if he just isn’t home? You don’t know if you could find the courage to come back again. You can already feel the adrenaline high of the past few days beginning to fade, that initial burst of anger and courage (or was it foolishness? Right now you can’t quite tell) falling away to reveal your confused and broken core.

Your sight blurs, the four numbers marking Spiderman’s door (Yunho’s door, your brain corrects you, and it’s unsettling how easily the name seems to roll off the tongue of your mind though you know you never knew it until the trip down Memory Lane) swimming in your vision. One zero two four. You remember it from the day you walked him back, one of his arms slung around your shoulders, one leg broken and propped up by a cast of your own magic.

The moment had felt—familiar, you remember. Vaguely. At least in the way his tired laughs left his lips, in the way he joked about the villain who had left him in this state, in the way he thanked you as he lay on his bed, the magic cast fizzling out of sight, his reassurance that he’d be healed by morning. It had felt easy, somehow. Like you’d done this before, or something similar.

At the time, you’d brushed it off as Spiderman’s charisma with everybody. The times you interacted with him, watched him fend off villains and help the elderly cross the sidewalk in just two breaths showed you enough. That infectious laugh, the witty barbs, his charming easiness with every person he encountered, villain or no, weren’t special somethings reserved for you, which you reminded yourself in the moments you thought that might be true.

But maybe it was true. That trip down memory lane told you that you knew him even before you did. Knew Spiderman, knew him deeply, knew him well enough to know his name, Yunho Jeong—

Knew him enough that you could kiss him and tell him you loved him, twice, even without the promise of a response.

“Wait. Wait and tell me when you see me again.”

He’d promised. With a nod, and a smile, and words said before that you know from the memory but still don’t remember. He’d said it, sworn it—

“It’s okay. I’m gonna come and find you and—and I’ll explain everything. I’ll make you remember me.” A deep, rattling breath. “And it’ll be like none of this ever happened.”

Yet he never came to find you. For what reason, you don’t know. But you found him. Over and over, you found him—during fights, on trips to the bodega, several times in the Sanctum. And he never said anything.

The ache of a memory that is yours but isn’t thuds dully in your chest. You need to know if it was real. And it if was…

You need to know why he never returned.

Your knuckles rap the door sharply—once, twice, three times. Something clangs and there’s a loud curse in a voice you properly remember, not just know from your trip down memory lane.

Footsteps sound. Something clicks in the door. You have just one moment to prepare yourself before it swings open—

Yunho Jeong’s face stares at you, confused, kind, smiling. If you hadn’t been watching so carefully, you would’ve missed the millisecond of hope and panic that flashed across his eyes that confirms everything you’ve conjectured so far.

You’re not sure how to feel about it.

“Good morning?” He laughs a little, and he’s so good at acting—so damn good, did he take acting classes before? Not that you would’ve known since you only got that one significant memory before you shoved America Chavez on, but you want to grab his shoulders and shake him hard enough to tug those memories loose and plant them back in your own damn head—

“Yunho Jeong.” You take a step forward. “We have a lot to talk about.”

. . . . .

His eyes are guarded when he lets you in the door, but he lets you sit on the couch before he lets loose with a question, more of a statement, of his own. “You know my name.”

You probe his gaze carefully. For once, it flickers as you stare at him, a shard of that steady, easy confidence he’s always had (was there a time he didn’t have it? Were you there when that was the case?) chipped and dropped into somewhere unknown. He doesn’t flinch away, though, not like you originally expected him to.

Maybe it isn’t just paranoia and caution behind those guarded walls, your mind whispers. Maybe there’s a bit of hope, too.

The thought is too much for you to handle, so for all your original bravado you’re the one who looks away first. “I do.”

Spiderman’s—Yunho’s—voice nearly trembles with how carefully he measures his next word. “How?”

You take a deep breath. How do you even start?

“I recently took a…trip, of sorts, with Dr. Strange.” Not really—it was more so just with America, but Spiderman doesn’t know America and you probably shouldn’t be telling anyone about her until Dr. Strange gives the okay. “Went universe hopping. Mostly unintentionally.” Ignoring Spiderman’s—Yunho, Jesus fucking Christ—sharp intake of breath, you continue. “One of them had a curious feature called Memory Lane. For a price, it would replay your most significant memories.” You swallow. “I got a…free trial, of sorts.”

The silence that follows your statement hangs heavily in the air. Never, not once in the time you’ve known him (at least not the second time you knew him, if the first time even existed) did you think Yunho (it’s still strange how not strangely the name flows through your mind) could have let such a tension weigh the conversation—he’s always been so charismatic, so ready to smile and laugh and joke away any heaviness that came. Hell, even when he had a leg snapped into so many pieces only a cast of glowing golden threads was holding it together, he wore a smile on the way back. But in the face of your words, Yunho’s head has fallen, the strong shoulders tensed to snap, his clasped hands trembling underneath his chin…

He looks up, straight at you. His eyes have fragmented and the shards you see in them frightens you—that’s just not a look that belongs on Yunho’s face. He looks ten, twenty, thirty years older than he is (your age, he’d told you with the perfect amount of surprise and warmth on his face the day you’d told him, the first time you’d had more than a few minutes to get to know each other more), with the tortured memories of someone who’s lived through millennia. And, you realize with a pang, there’s a reason for that. Because if you forgot him, if Mingi forgot him, how many others did?

And if you meant so much to him in that life you don’t remember, how much has he had to keep to himself in order to keep you from knowing?

“What did you see?” he asks quietly, hands clasped so tightly his knuckles have turned white. “If it’s okay to tell me, of course.”

Tears bubble in the corners of your eyes. That gentleness, that consideration, feels so warm. So very warm and familiar.

“I was with you. And Mingi. We were hugging.” You swallow. “You looked…beat up, but you still asked about a wound on my head.”

Yunho’s gaze flutters in the direction you knew it’d go, just to the side of your right eyebrow. Your fingers itch to rise, to touch the scarred flesh that’s still there, but you hold your twitching hands still.

“And then you said we were going to forget who you were.”

He goes still at that, still as a statue. It’s funny—there have been a few times where you mused, internally of course, that Yunho’s face—just Spiderman at the time—could have been sculpted by one of the gods, should they exist. A beaming statue of a hero, waiting for thousands to thank and worship him. But now, as he stares at you with no expression on his face, stone still and truly a human statue if there ever was one…

You promise yourself never to make the statue comparison again, because the warm Yunho, the alive Yunho, is the only one you’d ever want to know.

Swallowing hard, you open your mouth. And close it. Not because you don’t know what to say, because you do—it’s just recounting a memory that isn’t yours, basically a scene from a movie, how hard could it be—but because when you try to speak, you can’t. Your voice is gone.

Yunho’s eyes are shiny. A little too shiny. And there’s a little too much hope in them, now, a hope that makes you want to dig yourself into a hole and have someone cover up the dirt behind you. Because—it’s not right, that hope, it’s not right because you know what Yunho wants isn’t what happened.

He speaks first. “You…remember?”

“I—” You dig your fingernails into your palms so hard it hurts. “I don’t.”

His face falls. Crumbles. And this time, unlike all the other times you didn’t understand before when he’d see you and you’d do something—anything—and his face would do something strange for a second before his easy smile came back up—

He doesn’t try to pull it back together.

“I—saw it.” Your mouth moves on autopilot, trying to patch up a situation you’re not sure you can but anything, anything to bring something back to Yunho’s face. Even the terrible hope was better than this. “I saw it—and—I can’t say I remember it, exactly, because I don’t, but it—it felt like it explained things.”

Yunho looks up. Just barely. But he does.

“You—I’m comfortable with you.” Once it’s out in the open, you realize how stupid it sounds, but you barge forward because who the fuck cares anymore. “And I know—I know a lot of people probably say that, but—even at that first fight, it was like…it was like I knew you a little. Somehow. Even though to my knowledge I had never seen you before.” You wince at how that must sound but Yunho doesn’t, his eyes now fixated more firmly on yours. “A lot of things felt…familiar. Just stuff like your laugh. Smile. The way we could banter and talk and I—just—fuck!” Your own vehemence startles you and you slap your palms to your eyes and to your surprise, you find tears meeting your skin.

Damn it, you really hadn’t intended to cry when you came here.

“Y/N?”

You swallow the lump in your throat, scrub at your eyes with the heels of your palms. “I’m sorry,” you say, and wow your voice sounds so much more ragged than you thought it was. “I’m sorry. I—it all sounds stupid. I don’t know how to explain it. I just know that…sometimes, being around you felt like déjà vu. In some weird way.” The lump in your throat seems bent on returning so you swallow hard again. “The memory that I saw. It made some things, like that, make sense. But other things didn’t.”

“…What didn’t?”

It takes everything left in you to meet Yunho’s gaze. The adrenaline rush of yesterday’s fight has finally faded away fully and you think you might collapse soon, but you force your voice to remain steady even as a stray tear makes it cold way down your cheek.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

. . . . .

For a long moment, Yunho doesn’t speak.

“I…was going to tell you,” he finally says. “I was. When you still had your job at the diner, I was going to go in and…tell you everything. Like I’d promised to. I was—” He laughs a little, broken and fragmented. “I was right outside. I could see you. Mingi was at the counter, too.”

There were many days like those. You’re not sure which one this was. “I didn’t see you.”

“No, you didn’t,” Yunho agrees. “But I saw you. And I saw your scar.”

This time, you can’t stop your hand from touching the warped skin on your forehead.

Yunho’s eyes track the movement. “I had a whole speech written out, you know.” That same broken, fragmented laugh from before. “It was on a piece of paper. I was going to read it to you two. But I saw your scar and…you were laughing. You looked so happy. I couldn’t ruin that.” He smiles a little, but it doesn’t reach his eyes at all. “When you knew I was Spiderman, all it did was cause you pain. And harm.”

You open your mouth to refute, but you can’t. Because you don’t remember anything. Not at all.

“Something happened to just about everyone I cared about who knew my secret.” Yunho’s voice drops. “So I thought it would be better if you didn’t know. It would be better if no one knew. Just the way it was after that day.”

“But—Yunho, I—” Words trip over your tongue and for a moment you still can’t speak, not for lack of thought but for too much. “We—you didn’t give us a choice. How did you know we wouldn’t—”

“You were at the battle.” Yunho’s words cut through your own like a knife and you almost flinch. “A battle I caused because I was an idiot. You don’t remember what happened, do you?”

Slowly, you shake your head.

“I went to Dr. Strange with a request. To wipe everyone’s memory of the fact that Yunho Jeong and Spiderman were one and the same. So many shit things had happened to me—and us—because of Mysterio’s stupid fucking video. College admissions, people taking potshots at us across the street…” He takes a deep, shaky breath. “He almost did. But I kept interrupting with exceptions. People I still wanted to remember me. You. Mingi. Aunt Mei. Happy. And that…that messed the spell up.”

You sit silent, quiet as Yunho tells you about the multiverse, about the other villains who knew him but whom he’d never faced—at least not in this world. He tells you about Aunt Mei, how Osborn had found her, how she’d pressed it into him that all of them needed help, not just to be sent back to their respective universes to die, and how he’d decided she was right.

She had been right, Yunho stresses. But she’d paid for it. With her life.

There, Yunho stops talking for a moment. Puts his hands over his face and breathes deeply once, twice. When he finally looks up, his eyes look redder.

“I’m sorry.” You wince as soon as you say the words, how flat they fall in the silence. But the thing is—you knew Mei. Somewhat. You remember her face, her smile, her burned cookies—you remember her, if not necessarily her nephew. She was a good woman, one of the kindest people you’d ever had the luck to meet. “I…remembered her. Somewhat. Probably not as much as I would have…before, but…”

“Yeah,” is all Yunho says. “Yeah.”

He continues. Two Spidermen, two Yunho Jeongs from separate universes. They looked nothing like him and apparently you summoned them with rings stolen from Dr. Strange himself (so maybe some things are best left not remembered, because if Dr. Strange doesn’t remember this you’re not sure you want him to). Back in their own worlds, they’d faced the villains he’d failed to corral here. They worked together and there was a fight at the Statue of Liberty and you and Mingi were tasked with keeping the unbroken spell safe from Norman Osborn and later, Dr. Strange, too.

You failed.

“Osborn freed the spell,” Yunho says, grief and fury etched in every line of his face. “Broke the casing with one of his stupid little toys. And so all these people—villains, friends, I don’t know—from other universes started coming into ours. Dr. Strange couldn’t contain them.”

You’re starting to feel a little faint. “Oh my god.”

“Yeah,” Yunho breathes. “There was only one way to fix it. Everyone had to forget Yunho Jeong.” His eyes bore into yours.

Forget feeling faint. You think you’re about to be sick. “Everyone.”

“Everyone,” he repeats. A little dark laugh falls from his lips. “No exceptions this time.”

For a long moment, you sit in silence. All of this information—your brain was already exhausted from universe hopping and dealing with a crazy, grief-driven witch, and you got maybe three hours of sleep last night before you found your way here—it’s so much. Almost too much. Maybe you should’ve waited to confront Yunho, should’ve given it a couple of days of thinking before coming here all tongue-tied and stupid—

“But—Yunho. You promised to tell us. You promised to tell me and Mingi.” You can feel your face scrunching up like you’re about to cry again and you don’t need that, don’t need that right now at fucking all. “You could’ve told us—you didn’t have to go through this alone—”

“Yes, I did,” Yunho snaps. “It was my fault. All of this was my fault—”

“No, it fucking wasn’t!” you retort. “It was Mysterio’s fault—hell, it was mine and Mingi’s for not protecting the stupid spell enough—”

“No, it was mine, for trying to change something that couldn’t have been changed!” he yells. “I got the villains into our universe because I couldn’t think of anything beyond our fucking college admissions! I did a fuck up job of keeping the villains in line! I got Mei killed, I got you and Mingi injured, I caused so much trouble for Dr. Strange because I wasn’t thinking—”

“You were a kid!” you yell back. “We all were! Barely fucking eighteen! Not even college students, not even legal adults! And—Yunho! I may not remember anything, but I do fucking know that we never would’ve been coerced or something into helping you. You wouldn’t have done that! If we were helping you in that fight, it was because we agreed to, because we wanted to!”

“It doesn’t matter!” Yunho snaps. “It doesn’t matter that you wanted to! Because in the end, this was a fight that I started and that I should have ended myself! Instead, I got a whole bunch of other people involved and people were injured for it, people—people died for it, Y/N.” His face crumples, and he turns away.

All the fight leaves your body. You reach towards him, slowly take his hands in yours. To your surprise, he doesn’t tug them away.

“I wasn’t going to get you and Mingi killed off because I wanted you back,” Yunho whispers. “My fights were going to be on my terms and only mine. I know you fight now, as Dr. Strange’s apprentice—don’t bring that up with me. Those fights are your choices and on your terms.” Teary eyes look into yours and you can barely fight the urge to brush the wetness away. “It kills me to watch it happen, but that’s your choice. And I can’t interfere with that.” He takes a deep breath. “But I can interfere with the stuff that shouldn’t happen because it’s my fault.”

The anger starts to rise up in you once more. “You didn’t give either of us a choice in deciding that—”

“Right before Aunt Mei died, she told me something.” Yunho’s hands tremble in yours. “She said, ‘With great power, there must also come great responsibility.’”

You swallow hard.

“I don’t think I ever understood until then,” he says quietly. “Sure, I’d always known I had power, and I tried to use it well by being the friendly neighborhood Spiderman, you know. Protecting the little guy while others fight the big battles. But the responsibility…my lack of that is what started this whole thing in the first place.” Yunho swallows. “When I saw you and Mingi in the diner, and I made that choice. That was my responsibility. I wasn’t going to purposefully involve anyone else in my fights, my issues. Not now. Not anymore.”

One of his hands releases itself from yours. It rises toward the puckered scar, brushes it with a gentle touch. His fingertips tremble against your skin. “Do you know how you got this?” he asks, whisper soft.

Slowly, you shake your head.

“One of Osborn’s…gadgets, sliced you.” Yunho takes a deep, shaky breath, and you grip his hand harder. “And because of that, you—you fell. Right off the statue.”

You couldn’t speak right now, not even if you tried.

“You fell.” The words seem to rip themselves from Yunho’s throat and he looks away, his free hand covering his face for one, two awful moments before he turns back to you. “You fell, and I tried to catch you but Osborn knocked me out of the way midair, and it—it was only a miracle that one of the other Spidermen caught you. A miracle,” he repeats, almost as though he still doesn’t believe it.

This time you do reach up to brush the tears from his eyes. The movement feels so remarkably natural that you have to wonder how many times you made the same motion in a time before.

“I saw you with the scar. And suddenly I was there, watching you fall with no way to stop it.” Yunho squeezes his eyes shut. “I couldn’t have that happen again. Not to you. Not to anyone.”

His eyes open, and between the tears, all you can see is the certainty of his choice weighing dark in his pupils.

“Not because of me.”

. . . . .

Silence falls in Yunho’s studio apartment. The sun has risen, slats of pale light filtering through his windows, illuminating his face. In the glow of morning, Yunho’s young face only looks older.

And suddenly you feel guilty. So very guilty. You came to his apartment unannounced with a name in one hand, news you were certain he wouldn’t like in the other, and caused him pain. That was it. You forced him to relive all these memories, made him explain things he perhaps wasn’t ready to speak of, and yelled at him for a choice you’re not sure you would’ve made differently had you been in the same situation.

“I’m sorry,” you croak, throat suddenly choked. You drop his hands and step back, desperately trying to swallow your tears. “I—I shouldn’t have come.” Yunho’s eyebrows furrow, but you refuse to look at him. “It wasn’t my place to demand answers of you and I shouldn’t have yelled—”

“Y/N.”

This time it’s his hands that take yours, large and warm and gentle. You look down at your joined fingers, then up at his face. If you had loved each other as much as your memory would have you believe, this must have been a common occurrence.

No wonder it feels so safe.

“I don’t blame you,” he says, and it’s the steadiness of his gaze that convinces you he speaks true. “You had questions, and no one else you knew had answers.”

“Even so.” You blink a tear away. “Even so, Yunho.”

“No.” He grips your hands more tightly. “Do you know how I felt after I saw you the first time after? When you showed up with Dr. Strange in the middle of fighting the drakon?” You open your mouth to respond, but he cuts you off. “I was terrified, obviously, but watching you…” Yunho looks down at your joined hands and you think he’s going to start crying again, but when he looks back up, there’s a smile on his face despite the faint tears in his eyes. “It was good to see you, Y/N. Just so…good.”

You look down at your hands. Back up at Yunho’s face. 

Eyes so soft with tears, so warm they could melt.

“I was happy to see you,” he says quietly, and for all his words are unbelievable you have to believe them because of the way he says them. “So happy. I mean—I’d made the decision. And I’d come to terms with that I probably would never see you again, or at least never be close with you again. But seeing you then, healthy and happy and just—you—”

A choked noise escapes your throat. Something like a laugh. Something like a sob.

“I thought I’d gotten over it, you know.” Yunho smiles and it’s beautiful and broken and brittle, echoes of joy bittersweet on his lips. “Thought that I’d be able to move on. And I did, in a way, but before I thought that I would forget it all. I thought that I could. But that moment just showed me that I’d really never be able to, and that I would be okay with it. Because seeing you like that—it was good, Y/N.” The smile grows. “Even now, seeing you in front of me like this…”

Oh. Oh, damn.

You’d thought that you were all cried out, but your eyes betray you once more. A headache is starting to build up in the back of your head but you force yourself to focus, to decipher Yunho’s words for what they are. “So—” You swallow. Try to speak. “Do—do you—”

“I still love you,” he says quietly. “Every time I see you, it feels like I’m a little more whole.”

Your face burns. “I—”

“You don’t have to say anything right now.” Yunho smiles, and even on his teary face he looks so handsome, so steady, and if it’s true that you were in love with him before it’s not difficult to understand why. “I know it’s a lot, and that you’ve only just begun to figure some things out. I’m not looking for an answer when I tell you this.” He takes a deep breath. “I just wanted you to know.”

For a moment, the two of you sit in silence. You look at your interlaced fingers, think about how natural it feels to have his hands in yours, to have come to him in this hour of answers and need. Briefly you think of Mingi, and it doesn’t surprise you to think that they could’ve been good friends too.

“I’m not…closed off. To anything.” You swallow hard, looking back up at Yunho. “Yet, at least. I can’t say I—that I love you, not now, but I do believe I loved you once, and I could be there again. Someday.”

Yunho’s eyes fill with tears again, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I just.” Tears of your own start to squeeze down your cheeks, past your lips and chin. “I don’t know if I will ever remember everything,” you finally warn, voice wobbly. “I think it’s more likely that I won’t. But if you’re willing, even then…”

“It’s okay.” Yunho’s smile is warm, and it’s what finally sends the rest of the tears spilling out of your eyes. “This is more than I ever could have hoped for in my life.”

“I want to remember,” you choke. “I want to remember, I want to so badly—”

“I do too,” he says, pulling you into his chest. His warm heartbeat thumps quietly against yours and you take comfort in its steady pace, one, two, one, two. “But even if you don’t, I want you to know that’s okay. And it always will be.”

“…How do you know?”

Yunho’s arms, warm around your body. His hold so gentle yet so firm, so safe and steady as he murmurs reassurances in your ear.

“Because,” he says, pulling away. You look up at him with your sticky, aching eyes, feel all of your trust in him only grow as he smiles.

“Because we can always make more memories of our own.”

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

[universeofdreams]

Angels wings watching over her, Pt. 1

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Shuri Udaku x Fem!Reader, Avengers x Fem!Reader

Genre: Sci-fi, angst, a bit of battle scenes, fluff

Warnings: rough language, mention of death, panic, fighting (with hands, not words), Tony has a hard shell, capture and prison cell

Wordcount: 4403

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Summary: Simple day at work, that turns out not so simple as you expected. You were scared for dear life and were basically not yourself until the Avengers come to stop you and in the process of getting better you had the opportunity to meet the queen of Wakanda who is actually a very pretty and genuine girl.

A/n: put my entire ass into the first chapter, ngl. kinda proud of it and I hope you like it too, because there's more badass shit following. ill eventually even create a playlist on Spotify and YouTube for the story. if you like the story, please consider supporting me of leaving me some kind of feedback :) have a lovely evening, morning, noon or night. <3

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Today was a pretty warm day when you got to work at the Hard Rock Café in New York and you saw people rush through the city, even in the subway there was no one relaxed. It might’ve been the weather that made them all feel extra uncomfortable or it was the fact that the attacks on the city accumulated since a few weeks.

Most people were scared for their lives when the evening arrived or heavy and thick layers of clouds appeared on the sky. To say it simple and basic: the battle against Thanos and the blip left scars on everybody, especially on you.

Most of the people came back when Tony sacrified himself just to perform the snap but some didn’t. Why are you asking me? Because some of them died in the time where they’ve been erased from earth.

Your mother, a genius when it came to languages and music, got blipped away too. She wasn’t really old but the doctors diagnosed her with the Huntington’s disease earlier in her life which shortens her lifetime drastically. 

As soon as her daughter, you, were born she checked if you had the same disease but luckily the doctors found nothing, means you’re safe. 

But when she was one of the people that didn’t come back, your dad was devastated. He wasn’t able to speak to you anymore without seeing his wife in you and tearing up. It ended in him, leaving you behind because the memory tore him apart. There was no sleepless night for him and neither was he able to go on with his life, that’s what he wrote in the letter he left for you after you found a nearly empty apartment when you came home from school.

The more important thing is that you were only 17 years old, all on your own. 

Nothing. He left nothing for you, not even money to pay the rent. But your neighbour, a lovely old lady, came to your rescue as she noticed that you were packing your things with the fact in mind that she hasn’t seen your parents in a long time and when you opened up to her, she took you in.

Ever since then, you’ve been living with Mrs. Johnson and worked two jobs while going to college. Julliard was hard to get in but once you settled, life got serious. You spent every day at the conservatory when you weren’t working, unlike today.

Working at the Hard Rock Café gave you the opportunity to promote your music and find friends that love the same thing as you. Working at the bar was one of your favourite job, you’d talk to customers or impress them with throwing bottles around before catching them and mixing their drinks. When you were at work, life was fun.

And as soon as the shift ends, all of the employees that were actual musicians came together and performed things on stage because there was no chance of doing that when they were serving customers.

Sometimes it was hard for you to leave the bar behind, especially when you had no time for working in the next few days and all your co-workers would hug you goodbye. Life was awesome at that point.

When you came home, the first thing you always did was cook. Mrs. Johnson was old and out of respect you couldn’t stop calling her by her surname when you moved in, until she repeatedly said “my child, don’t call me Mrs. Johnson, I’m not that old!” but she indeed was old. Didn’t even tell you her full name, the good old lady. 

Gwendolyn was her name, after all. So you got home and cooked dinner for yourself and Gwendolyn, who reminded you so much of your grandma that you last seen what felt like a decade. Gwenny – that’s what you called her because you took a liking to bad dad jokes – was actually the sister of Katherine Fury.

That’s how you were introduced to Nick. Nick was actually really nice when he talked to Gwendolyn, different than you expected him to be.

People that sat in the Café wore mostly summerly clothing and you wished you’d be able to wear something else than a black button-up and black pants because even though the air condition was on, it was incredibly warm in the building. Was it really warm? Because all your co-workers seemed to be fine and not overall sweaty and hot. What really concerned you were the constant questions if you’re okay and people telling you that you’d look quite pale. 

Even your boss noticed that. And she even dismissed you with the words “go home instead of working when you’re sick.” But you weren’t sick. Were you? No, not that you remembered.

When you hopped on your train it got even weirder. Was it usually this loud on trains? No, it wasn’t. And why were these people talking without even opening their mouths? They weren’t talking. It was all in your head. You hallucinated. Did you? Why were these words so accurate then? A man was talking about that he has to get up because his stop was coming, another one was angry because of his phone and so on and so on. Shit, were these their thoughts? 

Yes, indeed. On your way home your sight became quite blurry and you were constantly overstimulated because there was so much input. Didn’t really end good for you when you passed out in a darker alley.

But when you woke up, you weren’t in the same setting as you remember where you fainted. The dirty and slightly cold street exchanged for a relatively warm and cosy mattress, the fact that your surroundings looked quite like a hospital but way more high-tech and andvanced than the local hospitals could’ve been. 

Slight panic overcame you when you realised that this wasn’t a hospital and there was also no doctor looking for you. You wanted to move but weren’t able to. As soon as you were fully capable of controlling your own body you noticed that your arms were tied to the sides of the bed. Yes, that was a whole lotta panic rising in your stomach, especially when a dark-haired man entered the room, wearing a white overall and looked like a doctor. “You’re going to help me, right?” you asked, the shakiness of your voice implied that you were panicking.

“Yes, sure.” He smiled but the vibe was off. And you should’ve realised that before he grabbed your arm and injected you something but due to the ropes that held your arm in place you hadn’t even have the chance to pull back.

A painful screech left your body when you felt the transparent liquid flood your veins and it felt like it was burning you alive from inside. It burned and your fingers went numb, same as your toes. The fact that they also turned completely white made you worry. And that it travelled upwards… concerning.

“Don’t worry-“ the man to your right said and once again showed his ugly grin. “You’ll feel better soon, as soon as you’re our weapon you’ll do a lot better.” He cooed but as he said weapon, you started crying. 

“I didn’t do anything to you! I don’t even know who you are!” You tried to defend yourself but the man only laughed and left the room and you behind with the burning feeling inside.

Seems like you passed out again. Now you weren’t in the bed, around you were cold stonewalls that seemed to also be a little wet. Your head was leaned against the cold wall as your back was also pressing against it. Someone must’ve dropped you there. Your ankle was in a cuff and your hair was tied up in a messy bun. 

Your body felt extremely sore and your hands ached when you used them so you decided to stay on the ground a little longer, until a guard opened the door and placed a little bowl of food in front of you. ‘Plain rice is at least a bit better than nothing’, you thought to yourself. 

The feeling for time already left you and you couldn’t even tell if it was Monday or Tuesday and you hated it. You didn’t know where you were or if someone even looked for you, if you’re far from home or not and especially what they’d do with you.

A few words slipped to your ears from the hallway which were “Tests, today and let’s see if serum succeeded.” 

So the fluid wasn’t something like saline, it was a serum. There was some weird serum in your body and you didn’t know what it does but judging by what the guards said, you should find out pretty soon. Except that this pretty soon was now. The doctor that you met when you woke up the first time was there too and there were two guards that escorted you with handcuffs out of the most likely some kind of prison cell into a bigger room. 

‘Why was there a swimming pool?’ 

Would’ve been better for you to not ask yourself this, because one of the guards attached a metal ball to the handcuffs which seemed to be quite heavy. You looked back and forth between the guards and the doctor and when the man nodded, the two bigger men threw you in mentioned water.

Your problem was now the ball, that was sinking and pulled you down with it. 

Panic. 

You started screaming, even if no one heard it since the water muffled pretty much all the sounds. 

You’ll die. Will you?

Seems like it. They only wanted to kill you.

What were the intentions of a weird doctor that kidnaps you and injects you some weird serum other than killing you? 

Maybe he was an inmate that wants revenge. Or maybe someone who just hated women.

Everything was possible at that point. Didn’t change the fact that you were scared for dear life. You didn’t want to die just yet. 

And you only had two options, drown or detach it from the cuffs. Second option sounded a lot more appealing than No. 1 and so you started wiggling in the water, trying to get free, when you felt a weird pain in your nose.

The water shot through it and suddenly you were able to breathe. Didn’t change the problem with the metal ball but made it, weirdly enough, at least manageable. Your body stopped shaking and when you tried to move your hands, the cuffs just simply broke.

“What the hell?” you muttered- no blubbered to yourself. 

The ball problem was eliminated and you were able to swim back up to breathe some fresh air. 

“Shit, doc, she did it.” Yelled one of the guards and he smiled. 

His nod said that he knew that this was gonna happen and that this was exactly his intention. 

“Bring her into a maximum security cell and strap her down. No movements allowed or you two shitheads get killed first.” He commanded with a chuckle and left the room again, then everything went black. 

The next time you were woken up was in a jet, next to people that looked as clueless as you might look right now but there were no words that left your mouth, even if you tried to speak as hard as you could.

No words.

“Good evening, young ones.” The man with the dark hair said and referred to all the people around you and probably you. “I am deeply sorry that there was no time for a detailed welcome but I’m catching up on that now. My name is William G. Palm and I am your manager and boss. You’re working for me as my weapons and today is your first mission. I want you to knock out or kill everyone that is in your way. I want those weapons.”

The man stated and you knew deep down that some time ago you had no sympathy left for him but right now all you could do was nod.

“I injected serum that is made out of concentrated angel tears into your veins so you have the exact same powers as those above.” He stated and gave the guards a sign to open the handcuffs of all the girls and boys on the ship. Then, a loud thud. They must’ve landed. The hangar opened and everyone ran, as far as they could. Some were shot, others were able to get further but not far enough, except you. 

You hid behind obstacles and ran in an ungodly speed, the shots didn’t even were close to you. Adrenaline was pumping inside of you and all you could see was red, letting your instinct control you completely. 

People were screaming, most of them were your mates. 

It was a war scene, mass destruction and heavily armed people ran around. But you didn’t look back, running and running. 

Fulfil your mission.

The enemies were trying to get to you but none of them stand a chance. One came close to you but you knocked him off his feet with a punch into his face and tried to get to the weapons inside the building. On your way there you had a couple more fights but none of the soldiers were actually able to stop you.

With some weapons you made your way back but were stopped by a certain redheaded woman in black attire.  “Whatever you’re trying here won’t work out, kiddo.” She said and held her hands up.

If you were a 100% conscious at that time you would’ve recognised that THE Black Widow was standing right in front of you, but the manipulated you just shrugged and tried to run past her but what stopped you this time was the hand that met your nose.

“Shit!”, you groaned and turned around to face her. 

“You’re really trying to mess with me, huh?” Was your question that she simply scoffed at. “Hold your horses, wild one. You’re messing with the Avengers.” 

‘Fulfill your mission, Y/n. Bring me the weapons.’ The voice of Dr. Palm echoed through your head.

“I don’t care.” Was your answer as you hat her on her solar plexus and made her stumble backwards. It was your chance to run which you took gratefully.

Little did you know that a shit ton of Avengers waited for you outside and Dr. Palm was nowhere in sight. Little did you know that he left you there, he had the assumption that you were killed like all the other ones and went before he got caught.

“It would be smarter of you if you drop the weapons and come with us.” Stated the dude in blue, white and red clothing and a shield but you shook your head out of irony. 

“Really think that would get me, huh?” 

Who would’ve thought that Spider-Man was the one to knock you off your feet with his taser webs. 

Unconsciousness.

Darkness.

Silence.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

You groaned, your head was hurting a lot. Why was it hurting that much? 

“She’s awake!” A male voice said and make you open your eyes in shock and probably also in fear of being tied to something again but this time it was a rather friendly face, a light stubble over his chin and cheeks, rimless glasses sat on his nose and his dark, lightly curly hair was sprinkled with gray.

“Hey.” He smiled. “I’m Doctor Banner, Bruce Banner.” At least a small introduction, so you knew what and who you’re dealing with.  “I know you might be scared but I promise no one here’s going to harm you.” He stated, raising his pinky. “Pinky promise.”

What kind of doctor would say ‘Pinky promise’ you thought, but he didn’t seem so bad so far.

“I did some check-ups on you and your condition was pretty bad, you were pretty dehydrated and your blood pressure was constantly too high.” He explained and showed you some health data. He had evidence, seemed to know what he was doing

“If you don’t mind, Mr. Stark would like to have little talk with you.” He said and exchanged places with Tony, who had a certain black girl by his side. 

“Hey kiddo, how are you feeling?”, the billionaire asked and looked intensively at you, but you just laughed. 

“Like shit.”

“I know Bruce is gonna fix it but I still need you to help me out. Who are you working for?”  “Working? For Hard Rock Café, nothing more?” The tone in your voice was questioning, as if you didn’t know what he was talking about, what was the case right now.

“No, why were you stealing those weapons?” He was stern and now very straight forward. 

“What weapons?” And made Shuri shake her head. “She doesn’t remember, Tony. No need to push her into something, her bpm’s already rising.” The princess stated and had a hand on Tony’s shoulder, trying to calm him and pushing him out of the room.

She now smiled at you and pulled a lightly disgusted face, paired with the words “men…” and laughed which also made you chuckle.

“You need to tell me everything that you remember about the whole thing, okay? Do you remember where you landed or what your mission is?” You shook your head.

“Want me to explain it?” The older one asked and received a small ‘Okay’ from the college-student.

The panther took a deep breath, sat down on the bed next to your legs and started rambling. “When the Avengers were called it was kind of a war-scene, other people your age where shot when they ran for their lives out of a jet-“ She stopped, gathering and sorting the memory. “-and a man was looking at the scene and laughed before he left.”  While she talked, the girl was playing with her hands, seems like she was nervous. 

While you were watching her fiddling with her fingers and inspected the tattoos, something came out of your mouth. “Palm.”

Shuri was looking at you, following your gaze down to her hand. “What?” She was confused, what where you talking about? 

“Doctor Palm.” Your voice cracked as you spoke again, even if you didn’t know where it came from. But Shuri slowly tried to catch up on what you were saying and her face lit up. “That was the man, yeah?” 

Nod. 

“Thank you so much. I’ll be back soon, get better fast.” She smiled and hurried out of the room to talk to the Avengers.

All of the heroes were in the conference room in the compound after Shuri had called in an emergency meeting and obviously they all were nervous and curious. 

“What happened?” It was Captain America, that spoke. “Did the girl try to flee or something?” 

“No. I want you all to look for a Doctor Palm, that’s the man that was with the teenagers back there.” She stated and fought for your right and for your justice. 

Tony was the first one that got to work and tried to find the mysterious man, while Shuri hurried back to your room.

Why was she so worried even if you basically didn’t know each other? For the others it looked quite normal, just a girl helping another girl out but the way she acted was so down to earth, other than expected from the Black Panther. You bet she would’ve had places to be but when she returned, a glass of orange juice in hand, the queen seemed to care so much.

You muttered a “Thank you so much” when she handed you the drink and sat back down at your legs. She let you take a moment to taste the juice and when you hummed in satisfaction, she continued talking.

“Do you remember what happened before that battle?”

“Well- my head feels very weird because I think I fainted a lot- I mean I at least was unconscious often.” You mentioned and she took a mental note on that just to tell Bruce to check up on your blood values in case they’ve drugged you. 

“Also I remember fainting on my way back home-“ And there was the memory of good old Gwenny that would be dearly worried about you by now and tears welled up in your eyes. 

“When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed, just like this one. But my hands were tied to the side and this Dr. Palm injected me something. That’s why I was panicking when I woke up here.” You admitted and took a deep breath, what follows was a big deal for you.

“And then I woke up in a prison cell. The guards later on always drowned me on purpose and I snapped handcuffs in half. Then they strapped me down in a max cell.” You looked away. You usually didn’t talk about what was on your mind but maybe the girl in front of you should know, if the Avengers were going to help you, you know?

But her face was enlightened by shock. She couldn’t peel her eyes off of you and pity was dwelling in the pit of her stomach. 

“Could you do me a favor, queen?”  “Don’t call me queen, I’m Shuri! What is it?” Her smile brought you comfort, even if your mind was troubled. It was so cloudy up there, so so cloudy that you couldn’t focus on your own thoughts.

“I’m living in a flat with an old lady, downtown New York. I don’t know how many days passed since I fainted. Could you check on her?” You begged, again at the verge of tears. “Please tell her that I’d be home soon and she should call Nick, that he takes care of her.”

“Nick? As in Nick Fury?” The queen of Wakanda asked and when you affirmed of her assumption, she once again gave you a big smile and rushed to do what you asked for.

But the answer was no good and Shuri couldn’t manage to tell you this herself, it’d break her heart once again, so she sent Bruce, also with the information about your blood values. 

Yes, you weren’t speaking for the rest of the day. And the day after that day. Just because you didn’t pay any attention to your surroundings that day you were now all alone by yourself. Luckily you had a roof right now and people that at least took a little care of you but when Tony crashed your silent treatment, you didn’t know how to react.

They didn’t find the man they were looking for. The only they managed was to analyse your blood very detailed and what they found was very confusing.

“High dose of chloroform, serum spiked with an identical formular of the super-soldier serum, indeed there were tears of angels in it. And we had some contact to someone who knows a bit about mystic creatures. He said they will look for you.” 

Tony wasn’t very pleased of your stay and you knew by the way how he told you, without any filters or any empathy.

“This is not a motel or something so if you feel alright it would be cool if I’d get my doctor back.” He said and hell yeah you felt unwanted. Why would he say something like this? Didn’t he care?

Why were you even here if he didn’t care? They could’ve left you there-

He could just simply let you go if you didn’t discover how to use what they gave you but that would happen sooner or later. And Shuri wasn’t really happy about Tony’s decision but couldn’t do anything about it. She offered to take you to Wakanda and give you a place to rehab but you declined. 

Why?

You still wanted to graduate.

You still wanted to be a normal person even if it seemed impossible right now. 

After Tony’s snarky comment you told Bruce that you felt alright and that you’d want to leave, much to his dismay.

You hoped not to walk into the queen on your way out of the building but the last few days weren’t lucky for you and so was this one.

“Hey, hey, hey killer, where are you going?”, she asked, thought that she was dreaming. 

“I’m leaving.” You shrugged and gripped your jacket and your phone a bit tighter, you hated confrontations.

“Whoa, what? Why?” Didn’t she know about how Tony felt?

“Yeah, Stark said I should leave when I’m good, no motel and shit.” 

Her expression and smile dropped. She wouldn’t see you again, would she? Probably not. 

“Give me your phone.” She demanded and you handed her your phone and saw how she created a new contact. 

“Call me, if you need anything. Even if it’s just a friend or a drink.” And you didn’t expect her to open her arms for a hug, which you still gladly took.

Why were the clouds disappearing? 

Why was her skin so warm?

Was that her heartbeat? 

Why was she protecting you the whole time? 

You broke the hug and gave her a little smile, shoving your phone into your pocket and walked towards the exit. She didn’t move a muscle, still looked in the same direction as when you guys were talking. 

The odd feeling of not wanting to leave her alone behind didn’t wash away and so you turned around and called out her name once more.

“Hey- Shuri?” 

She looked – over her shoulder - back to you and watched you.

“You’re very pretty.” With that she received the sweetest smile you owned when you turned on your heel once more and walked off.

Were that butterflies?

When was the last time a girl actually called her pretty?

She couldn’t remember.

With that a smile settled on her face for the rest of the day.

But not for you. When you realised you had no money left and no bus drives out here you only had the option of walking or rather walking at least into the next city. You could’ve asked the queen to give you a ride but you didn’t want to be in dept about anything ever. She would’ve escorted you safely to where your destination was- but you had none, except for New York City. 

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NEXT CHAPTER>>

[ravenalla]

I so agree with your statement about Season 3… I didn’t even finished it, it was too much. And the shippers here didn’t help either lmao. My boy needs no woman and certainly not an ex death watch.

He was doing fine till now, they made him look like a damsel in distress so SHE can save him, she can be a goddamn good girl… Like her past is erased from everyone minds? They have amnesia? And he became a second character in his own show?? Yup, no, call me when everything became normal again

I know it’s not technically canon yet but it reminds me a lot of when a character’s entire purpose is just to support their partner in a ship. Also people can ship what they want of course but in what way has anything between them been explicitly romantic in canon? They’ve just been working together on missions and barely talking about anything besides the matter at hand. I saw more desire for a relationship between Boba and Din than this. If they decide to suddenly say Bo and Din had feelings for each other the whole time in the two episodes we have left I’ll be so mad. Omera was Din’s obvious love interest if they were going to give him one, but no lets put him with the white terrorist lady who insulted his and others entire existence.

Also people forget that Din isn’t stupid. The fandom likes to make himbo jokes sure but Din is incredibly smart, he spent however many years working as a top rated bounty hunter, one of the most dangerous jobs in the galaxy, Din got beaten up all the time but he also had so many wins and badass moments, they balanced each other out so he wasn’t invincible but he wasn’t incompetent either. Most of Din this season is just him needing to be saved or aided by Bo-Katan so far, because apparently SHE is the Mandalorian everybody suddenly needs to use their brains or they’ll combust into flames or something I guess 🙄 and spoiler warning for the next episode under the cut.

So leaks say that Din gets captured by Moff Gideon at the end of the episode and Bo has to rally Mandalorians to go save him. Man how much more impactful would that be if Din was Manda’lor, Bo had the chance now to become it with him gone, but she actively chooses instead to help him after being bitter and aggressive towards him all season, thereby giving her growth that doesn’t actually mean turning her character back 180 out of nowhere. I like the idea of Din getting captured on its own and coming face to face with Gideon again but after he’s done literally nothing all season and has had no personality other than “help Bo”? That’s insulting af, Din just looks more and more helpless. Like again what if he was Manda’lor and trying to prove his worth both to Mandalorians and himself? We could have gotten a really cool scene where he questions his abilities as a father and as a leader, wondering if other types of Mandalorians would even come for him and ending the season with an episode about Din finally coming into his own with the darksaber while other Mandalorians rally behind him to defeat Moff Gideon once and for all.

But no. It’s probably gonna be a chance to display how Bo absolutely deserves another chance at ruling after proving nothing about how she is different from last time while Din is just there as bait and they’ll kiss or some shit afterwards. God this season has turned out so bad, I really am hoping they don’t go that route and make it somehow worse. I don’t blame people for hopping out now.

[karkelia]

Mirrors - Kacchaco

After months apart, Ochaco Uraraka and Katsuki Bakugou find themselves face-to-face once again, forced to confront the unresolved feelings they’ve been avoiding. In the midst of a rain-soaked reunion, they must decide whether to risk their hearts once more or walk away forever. As old wounds resurface and unspoken desires come to light, they realize that love isn’t about perfection—it’s about reflection, growth, and never giving up on each other.

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

Ochaco Uraraka stood on the small balcony of her apartment, the cool evening air wrapping around her like a second skin. She stared out at the sprawling skyline of the city she had grown to know so well over the years. The glow of distant skyscrapers blurred through the light mist of rain that had just passed, casting the streets below in a faint shimmer. The scent of wet pavement mixed with the earthy aroma of the nearby park, and for a moment, it was as though the world had slowed down, leaving her alone in the quiet stillness.

Alone.

The word hung heavy in her mind, a weight she had been carrying for far too long now. It had been months since she and Katsuki Bakugou had called it quits, but the sting of their breakup still clung to her heart like an open wound that refused to heal. Every night, every quiet moment, her mind wandered back to him, to the way he made her feel alive and frustrated all at once. To the fire they had shared, both of them burning too bright, too fast, until they finally burned each other out.

She sighed, gripping the balcony railing tighter as the memories washed over her. She had tried so hard to move on—to throw herself into her hero work, to spend time with her friends, to smile and laugh like nothing was wrong. But it was all a facade, a mask she wore to hide the truth: that no matter how much time passed, she still wasn’t over him. Not even close.

Ochaco’s gaze drifted down to her phone, which sat face down on the small table beside her. His name was still there, still at the top of her contacts, like a silent reminder of everything she was trying to forget. She knew she should delete it. Everyone told her it was for the best, that she needed to let go and move forward. But the idea of erasing him completely from her life, of pretending that the connection they had shared wasn’t real, felt like too much to bear.

How could she forget him when every time she looked in the mirror, she saw the girl he had helped shape? The girl who had grown stronger because of him. The girl who had loved him fiercely, despite all their ups and downs.

Her fingers hovered over the phone, torn between the temptation to reach out and the need to stay strong. She had already been through this before—the endless back-and-forth in her mind. She would imagine what it would be like to call him, to hear his voice again, to try and fix what had been broken. But then reality would hit, and she’d remember how their last conversation had ended in anger and hurtful words, both of them too proud to back down.

It had been a fight like any other, but something about it had felt final, like a line had been drawn in the sand. Neither of them willing to cross it, neither of them willing to admit how much they needed the other.

But now, standing here in the stillness of the night, Ochaco wondered if maybe they had both been wrong. Maybe that line hadn’t been the end of their story. Maybe it was just the beginning of something different, something they hadn’t been ready for before.

Suddenly, her phone buzzed on the table, the screen lighting up with a familiar name.

Katsuki.

Her breath caught in her throat as she stared at the notification, her heart pounding in her chest. It had been months since they last spoke, months since they had let each other go. Why now? Why was he reaching out after all this time?

She hesitated, her thumb hovering over the screen as a thousand thoughts raced through her mind. What could he possibly want? What could he say that would make up for the distance between them? For the pain they had caused each other?

But even as her mind filled with doubts, her heart surged with something else—something undeniable. Despite everything, despite the pain and the heartache, she wanted to hear his voice. She needed to.

With a deep breath, Ochaco swiped to answer.

“Hello?” Her voice was soft, barely more than a whisper as she spoke.

For a moment, there was silence on the other end, and Ochaco’s heart clenched with fear that he might hang up, that this might all be a mistake. But then, his voice came through the line, rough and familiar, sending a shiver down her spine.

“Ochaco.”

Just her name, but it was enough to unravel the walls she had built around her heart. She closed her eyes, leaning against the railing for support as she tried to steady her racing pulse.

“What... what do you want, Katsuki?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly as she forced herself to stay composed.

There was a long pause on the other end, and Ochaco could hear the faint sound of him breathing, as though he was trying to find the right words. Katsuki Bakugou, always so confident, so sure of himself, now hesitating like he didn’t know what to say.

“I’ve been thinking,” he finally said, his voice quieter than she had ever heard it. “About you. About us.”

Ochaco’s heart skipped a beat, her grip tightening on the phone as his words sank in. She had thought about him too—every day, every night. But she hadn’t expected him to feel the same. Not after everything that had happened between them.

“I know I was an asshole,” Katsuki continued, his voice gruff but tinged with something that sounded almost like regret. “I said a lot of shit I didn’t mean. I—I wasn’t good at any of this.”

Ochaco swallowed hard, her throat tight with emotion. She had waited so long to hear those words from him, but now that they were here, she didn’t know how to respond.

“I miss you, Ochaco,” he said, his voice raw with honesty. “I don’t know how to fix this, but I know I don’t want to lose you.”

Her breath hitched, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes as she listened to him. This was the Katsuki she had always known was there, buried beneath his tough exterior—the one who cared more than he ever let on. The one who had always been afraid to show his softer side.

“I miss you too,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I’ve tried to move on, but... I can’t. I don’t want to.”

There was a pause on the other end, and for a moment, the only sound was the steady rhythm of their breathing, both of them caught in the weight of their unspoken feelings.

“I don’t want to be apart anymore,” Katsuki finally said, his voice firm with determination. “I’m coming over.”

Ochaco’s heart leaped in her chest, her mind racing as she processed his words. He was coming. After all this time, after everything they had been through, he was coming back to her.

She wiped at her tears, a small smile tugging at her lips as she spoke softly into the phone. “I’ll be waiting.”

As she hung up and stood there on the balcony, the city lights twinkling in the distance, Ochaco felt a sense of peace wash over her. Maybe they weren’t broken beyond repair. Maybe, just maybe, they were like mirrors—reflecting each other’s strengths and weaknesses, always pushing each other to be better.

And maybe now, after all this time, they were finally ready to face their reflection together.

Ochaco Uraraka stood on the small balcony of her apartment, the cool evening air wrapping around her like a second skin. She stared out at the sprawling skyline of the city she had grown to know so well over the years. The glow of distant skyscrapers blurred through the light mist of rain that had just passed, casting the streets below in a faint shimmer. The scent of wet pavement mixed with the earthy aroma of the nearby park, and for a moment, it was as though the world had slowed down, leaving her alone in the quiet stillness.

Alone.

The word hung heavy in her mind, a weight she had been carrying for far too long now. It had been months since she and Katsuki Bakugou had called it quits, but the sting of their breakup still clung to her heart like an open wound that refused to heal. Every night, every quiet moment, her mind wandered back to him, to the way he made her feel alive and frustrated all at once. To the fire they had shared, both of them burning too bright, too fast, until they finally burned each other out.

She sighed, gripping the balcony railing tighter as the memories washed over her. She had tried so hard to move on—to throw herself into her hero work, to spend time with her friends, to smile and laugh like nothing was wrong. But it was all a facade, a mask she wore to hide the truth: that no matter how much time passed, she still wasn’t over him. Not even close.

Ochaco’s gaze drifted down to her phone, which sat face down on the small table beside her. His name was still there, still at the top of her contacts, like a silent reminder of everything she was trying to forget. She knew she should delete it. Everyone told her it was for the best, that she needed to let go and move forward. But the idea of erasing him completely from her life, of pretending that the connection they had shared wasn’t real, felt like too much to bear.

How could she forget him when every time she looked in the mirror, she saw the girl he had helped shape? The girl who had grown stronger because of him. The girl who had loved him fiercely, despite all their ups and downs.

Her fingers hovered over the phone, torn between the temptation to reach out and the need to stay strong. She had already been through this before—the endless back-and-forth in her mind. She would imagine what it would be like to call him, to hear his voice again, to try and fix what had been broken. But then reality would hit, and she’d remember how their last conversation had ended in anger and hurtful words, both of them too proud to back down.

It had been a fight like any other, but something about it had felt final, like a line had been drawn in the sand. Neither of them willing to cross it, neither of them willing to admit how much they needed the other.

But now, standing here in the stillness of the night, Ochaco wondered if maybe they had both been wrong. Maybe that line hadn’t been the end of their story. Maybe it was just the beginning of something different, something they hadn’t been ready for before.

Suddenly, her phone buzzed on the table, the screen lighting up with a familiar name.

Katsuki.

Her breath caught in her throat as she stared at the notification, her heart pounding in her chest. It had been months since they last spoke, months since they had let each other go. Why now? Why was he reaching out after all this time?

She hesitated, her thumb hovering over the screen as a thousand thoughts raced through her mind. What could he possibly want? What could he say that would make up for the distance between them? For the pain they had caused each other?

But even as her mind filled with doubts, her heart surged with something else—something undeniable. Despite everything, despite the pain and the heartache, she wanted to hear his voice. She needed to.

With a deep breath, Ochaco swiped to answer.

“Hello?” Her voice was soft, barely more than a whisper as she spoke.

For a moment, there was silence on the other end, and Ochaco’s heart clenched with fear that he might hang up, that this might all be a mistake. But then, his voice came through the line, rough and familiar, sending a shiver down her spine.

“Ochaco.”

Just her name, but it was enough to unravel the walls she had built around her heart. She closed her eyes, leaning against the railing for support as she tried to steady her racing pulse.

“What... what do you want, Katsuki?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly as she forced herself to stay composed.

There was a long pause on the other end, and Ochaco could hear the faint sound of him breathing, as though he was trying to find the right words. Katsuki Bakugou, always so confident, so sure of himself, now hesitating like he didn’t know what to say.

“I’ve been thinking,” he finally said, his voice quieter than she had ever heard it. “About you. About us.”

Ochaco’s heart skipped a beat, her grip tightening on the phone as his words sank in. She had thought about him too—every day, every night. But she hadn’t expected him to feel the same. Not after everything that had happened between them.

“I know I was an asshole,” Katsuki continued, his voice gruff but tinged with something that sounded almost like regret. “I said a lot of shit I didn’t mean. I—I wasn’t good at any of this.”

Ochaco swallowed hard, her throat tight with emotion. She had waited so long to hear those words from him, but now that they were here, she didn’t know how to respond.

“I miss you, Ochaco,” he said, his voice raw with honesty. “I don’t know how to fix this, but I know I don’t want to lose you.”

Her breath hitched, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes as she listened to him. This was the Katsuki she had always known was there, buried beneath his tough exterior—the one who cared more than he ever let on. The one who had always been afraid to show his softer side.

“I miss you too,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I’ve tried to move on, but... I can’t. I don’t want to.”

There was a pause on the other end, and for a moment, the only sound was the steady rhythm of their breathing, both of them caught in the weight of their unspoken feelings.

“I don’t want to be apart anymore,” Katsuki finally said, his voice firm with determination. “I’m coming over.”

Ochaco’s heart leaped in her chest, her mind racing as she processed his words. He was coming. After all this time, after everything they had been through, he was coming back to her.

She wiped at her tears, a small smile tugging at her lips as she spoke softly into the phone. “I’ll be waiting.”

As she hung up and stood there on the balcony, the city lights twinkling in the distance, Ochaco felt a sense of peace wash over her. Maybe they weren’t broken beyond repair. Maybe, just maybe, they were like mirrors—reflecting each other’s strengths and weaknesses, always pushing each other to be better.

And maybe now, after all this time, they were finally ready to face their reflection together.

Ochaco stood frozen on her balcony, her fingers still gripping the phone as if it might suddenly slip from her hand. Katsuki was coming. Her heart pounded so loudly in her chest that she was sure anyone passing by below could hear it. The city outside seemed so far away now, like the world had been reduced to the distance between her apartment and wherever he was.

She hadn’t seen him in months, hadn’t been close to him since the night they both walked away from each other—so sure it was over. But the truth was, it had never really been over. Not for her. And now, she wasn’t sure if she was ready to face him, to feel that rush of emotions she had been trying to push down for so long.

She stepped back inside, closing the balcony door behind her. The room was dim, the soft light from the street casting shadows on her walls. Everything felt surreal, like a dream she wasn’t fully awake from. Ochaco glanced at herself in the hallway mirror, running a hand through her hair to smooth out the strands that had gone wild from the breeze. She straightened her shirt, feeling a nervous flutter in her stomach.

Would things be different now? Could they be? She had imagined this moment a hundred times, but now that it was actually happening, it felt terrifyingly real. The mirror in front of her caught her reflection—her flushed cheeks, wide eyes, and the vulnerable hope she saw there. It reminded her of what Katsuki had once said to her, something that had stuck with her long after they’d parted.

“You’re stronger than you think,” he’d told her during one of their late-night talks, his voice uncharacteristically soft, as if admitting that wasn’t easy for him. “But you don’t see it. You need to stop looking at yourself like you're not enough.”

She smiled faintly at the memory, the warmth of his words still lingering in her mind. For all his rough edges and bluster, Katsuki had always seen something in her that she had struggled to see in herself. He challenged her, pushed her to grow, and made her believe she could be more. But it was also that fire, that intensity, that had made them clash so often. Two strong personalities, both unwilling to back down, both too proud to admit they needed each other.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of her phone buzzing on the counter. She glanced at the screen—a message from Katsuki:

"Be there in 10."

Her breath hitched, and suddenly the reality of it hit her all at once. Ten minutes. In just ten minutes, he would be at her door, and everything would come rushing back.

She paced the living room, her nerves buzzing. What would she say to him? What if things hadn’t changed? What if they were still the same stubborn, hot-headed duo who couldn’t make it work? But what if they had both grown, both learned from their mistakes? What if this time, they got it right?

Before she could lose herself in the spiral of her thoughts, there was a knock at the door. Ochaco froze, her heart hammering in her chest. He was here. She took a deep breath, steadying herself as she walked to the door. Her hand hovered over the doorknob for a moment, then, with a deep breath, she turned it.

Katsuki stood on the other side, his familiar figure filling the doorway. His hair was a little damp from the rain, sticking up in that wild, unruly way she had always loved. His eyes—those intense, piercing eyes—met hers, and for a moment, neither of them said anything. They just stood there, taking each other in, the weight of the past few months hanging between them like a silent storm.

“Hi,” Ochaco finally said, her voice softer than she intended.

Katsuki’s gaze flicked over her face, searching for something, before he gave a small nod. “Hey.”

He looked different. Older, maybe. Or maybe it was just the weight of everything they had been through that made him seem more serious, more reflective. But underneath that, he was still Katsuki—fierce, determined, and, despite the distance, still so achingly familiar.

She stepped aside to let him in, and he entered the apartment, his presence filling the small space. As he stood there, his hands shoved into his pockets, Ochaco could feel the tension between them—thick, heavy, and laced with the unspoken words they had left behind.

The rain pattered against the windows, a soft reminder of the world outside, but in here, everything felt like it had been suspended in time. Katsuki turned to face her, his expression serious, his jaw tight.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he started, his voice low and steady. “I’m not good at this, Ochaco. I never have been. But I’m trying.”

Ochaco swallowed, her heart pounding as she took a step closer to him. “I know,” she whispered. “I know it’s hard for you. But… I’ve missed you, Katsuki. I didn’t think I would, but I do. Every day.”

He exhaled slowly, his gaze softening just a fraction. “I’ve missed you too. More than I’d like to admit.”

For a moment, they just stood there, the air between them charged with emotion, both of them too unsure of what to do next. Katsuki shifted his weight, his fingers twitching like he was holding back from reaching out to her.

Finally, Ochaco broke the silence, her voice trembling. “What do we do now? I don’t want to go back to how we were… but I don’t want to lose you either.”

Katsuki’s eyes locked onto hers, his intensity returning as he stepped closer, closing the distance between them. His voice was firm, filled with the same stubbornness that had always defined him. “We don’t go back. We figure it out. Together.”

Ochaco’s breath hitched, and before she could think, before she could question it, she closed the gap between them, her arms wrapping around his neck as she pulled him into a kiss.

The kiss was slow, deliberate, filled with the weight of all the things they hadn’t said. Katsuki’s hands found her waist, pulling her closer as if he had been waiting for this moment just as much as she had. The rain continued to fall outside, but in that moment, the world around them faded into nothing.

When they finally pulled away, their foreheads resting against each other, both of them breathless, Ochaco felt the tears she had been holding back start to fall.

“I’m scared,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “I’m scared we’ll screw it up again.”

Katsuki’s grip on her tightened, his voice soft but firm. “Then we’ll screw it up. But we’ll keep trying. I’m not walking away this time.”

Ochaco smiled through her tears, a warmth spreading through her chest. Maybe they didn’t have all the answers yet, maybe they still had a long way to go, but for the first time in months, she felt like they were on the right path.

And as they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, Ochaco realized that no matter what happened next, they were in this together. A perfect reflection of each other’s strengths and flaws, just like mirrors.

They would keep moving forward—one step at a time.

[joycieillustrations]

Hello! I found the scene in the finale between Corlys and Alyn very intriguing but am eager to hear your thoughts on it in terms of whether or not it clarified anything for you/for the representation of Corlys in your fics. I thought your last ask on the subject was interesting as I've struggled to make sense of Corlys and his actions all season. I'm still mostly at a loss.

Hi there! Thanks for your ask 😊

I’m going to preface this with the caveat that I still haven’t watched the episode yet. I’m in the UK so I’m asleep when the episode first airs (don’t have the energy to stay up until 3am anymore 😩) and due to my mental health being a bit rubbish recently, I haven’t really wanted to sit down and watch it. That being said, a couple of friends kindly transcribed the scenes for me and also summarised the performances etc., so I know what happens and how.

In all honesty, it doesn’t change much of what I’ve got planned. What this scene has confirmed for me (and I may be proven wrong by Season 3 when it airs) is my belief that Alyn is older than Laenor. To me, the imagery he uses in his (very justified) angry refusal of Corlys brings to mind an eldest child who saw a life that could have been his taken and given to a younger half-brother simply because he is legitimate. The fact that, in this anecdote, Laenor and Corlys are picking out sweets gives the image of Laenor being quite young - so young that he is still being indulged by his father, something that we see Corlys is not wont to do - and Alyn being old enough to understand who Corlys is, why there is a difference between himself and Laenor, and also to be out working. Now, this maturity and cognisance may simply be because Alyn has had to grow up faster because of his lowborn status, but I think Alyn being older too holds more weight.

Another reason this scene makes me think Alyn is older than Laenor is this anger that is present. He almost sounds - in modern terms - like a child of divorce, like someone who feels like they’ve been cast aside for a chance at a ‘better’ family. To me, this anger would make even more sense if Alyn had been born first: that he’d look at Corlys with Laenor and wonder why he wasn’t good enough? Why did Corlys need another son when he had Alyn? What did he do wrong? What did he do to make Corlys abandon them, abandon his mother (who I’ll refer to as Marilda from now on, even though her identity hasn’t been confirmed in the show)? Why did Corlys come back and father another child on Marilda and then abandon them again? Is he the reason Addam has had to grow up without a father? None of this is Alyn’s fault, of course, but a child blaming themselves for the breakdown of their parents’ relationship is a very common thing (speaking from experience). On a rational level, I think this older Alyn knows that really Corlys could never have married Marilda because she herself is lowborn (and potentially also a bastard), but that doesn’t erase the hurt he feels from his childhood. He saw the man he knew was his father with a wife who wasn’t his mother and watched as they raised a son whom Corlys openly loved and cherished.

I have written a detailed response where I go into more depth about my personal canon re. when the fathering of both Alyn and Addam takes place, what I think about what this means for Corlys and Rhaenys’ marriage, etc. but I think I’ll post that separately. I want a little more time to refine my points - especially as I think there’s a lot of different factors at play when it comes to the fandom’s response to Corlys having bastards - and I don’t want to overwhelm you by making what is already a very long answer even longer!

I will summarise briefly here with this: I think Alyn was born before/very early on in Corlys and Rhaenys’ marriage and that Addam was conceived during a very low point in their marriage where Corlys and Rhaenys were both under a lot of strain. I think the conception of Addam occurred through Corlys making a very poor decision in a moment of weakness, seeking comfort he’d normally find in his wife. From S2 Corlys’ lack of knowledge about Marilda, despite her having two children with him, I don’t think it was an ongoing emotional affair, but rather she was an easy escape for him, having already had a child with him. Like I said, I’ll go into more detail with a later post - let me know if you’d like me to tag you!

Thanks again for your ask and I hope this answers at least some of your questions! ☺️

[forever-eternal]

The Do-Not-Notice-Me; Slightly Explained

If you have questions, just ask!

———————————————————————

Personifications don’t follow conventional human standards or social norms. Normally, such things could get them killed, especially in previous centuries, but they have something that protects them.

No matter what they do, if it’s not causing a large ruckus or anything, it will simply go unnoticed. It’s one of the more subtle, subconscious powers of Personifications. They will be seen, humans will recognize that someone is there, but human minds will not process their presence, they will be unnoticed.

It’s how no one questions why they never age. Why no one questions their relationships, even if they would be considered taboo at the time. Why no one questions their strange mannerisms.

It’s a subtle Do-Not-Notice-Me aura that surrounds them, that warps the perception the humans have of them.

Of course, depending on the Personification, this subconscious aura has different strengths.

Cities and Agencies have it the weakest, all it takes is a third glance and some will start to question who they are and what they’re doing.

They have to be the most careful, have to act the most like regular humans and have to change with the times at the same rate as humanity, else someone takes that third look. They have no control over this aura.

States and Departments have it a bit stronger, it takes them doing something that will draw attention, even through the haze, and usually caused by Florida.

The States don’t go out extremely often, and when they do they try to blend in even despite it. It doesn’t always work. They often take longer to change with the times due to lack of human engagement, but are also so rarely seen that no one notices. They have decent control over this aura, and are usually the ones that get noticed the most.

The Departments are always out and about and working around humans. But they’ve been raised with the art of subtlety, and know how to hide themselves even when their Do-Not-Notice-Me aura doesn’t conceal them. They have extreme control over this aura.

Gov and Assistant’s auras are so strong it conceals personifications within their general eyesight and proximity. It also has the effect of warping video and audio footage, playback or live, even if they are unaware there are cameras. They have extreme control over this aura, and its so strong that if they don’t keep strict control they will never be seen, let alone noticed.

The most others can do is blur their face on cameras, but Gov and Assistant have destroyed entire computer systems without being aware of said system. It takes actual effort from them for their kids to take photos of them.

They work work work, rarely stopping to care for themselves, and no one notices because of the aura. Even in 1788, when Robin and Adam Jones married, no one noticed the time-period taboo of a white man marrying a woman of color because of this.

Despite the size of their home, they had no workers, had no slaves, and no one noticed. Never was Robin pregnant but they had many children, that looked too much like them to be adopted, and no one noticed.

They changed the terrain under their feet or waved storms away on open seas and no one noticed.

If they wanted to, no one would ever see them. It would be as if they didn’t exist. They did that once, between January 1st, 1770, and September 4th, 1774. They were there, always there, and no one ever saw them. Not even the other personifications, who are mostly immune to the subconscious aura.

But, back then, it wasn’t a subconscious decision. It was a decision made with purpose and two Deities in Child’s bodies hid themselves and erased any destruction they caused.

There were so many war camps, war ships, Soldiers, that were never remembered because Congress and Assistant did not want them to remember.

They were supposed to lose the War, but these small fragments of Eternity and Infinity refused.

[duhragonball]

Dragon Ball Super 102

WULL IT’S TIME!

IT’S TIME!

IT’S!  RIBRIANNE!  TIME!

So if you’re like me-- and I know I am-- you’re probably watching this arc and wondering where the hell Universe 2′s team is during all of this.   We’ve been following U7 the whole time, and we just saw a bunch of stuff with U6 and U11 in the last few episodes.  U9 got erased, so they’re accounted for, and U3, U4, and U10 have provided a steady supply of jobbers for the main cast to whale on. 

But Universe 2 has been largely absent from this battle, except for a scene or two where their Yardratti fighter, Jimiz, tussled with Goku for a bit.  They’ve suffered zero eliminations so far, and while they also haven’t eliminated anyone else, that’s not the object of the game.  The team with the most members standing at the end is the winner, so as of this episode, Universe 2 was technically in the lead, even though they haven’t done anything.  If a team could make it through the entire Tournament of Power without fighting while the other teams whittled each other down, that would totally work. 

However, that is not Universe 2′s strategy.  In this episode, Brianne de Chateau, the team’s captain, basically calls out to everyone else on the stage to watch her perform her transformation.  I don’t know why she waited this long, or what her team was doing until now, but they clearly weren’t hiding from the competition for any strategic purpose.  She’s literally inviting everyone to watch her.

So the big gag here is that no one in this cartoon outside of Universe 2 understands any of this.  Pell, their Supreme Kai, starts marking the fuck out, and Helles the Destroyer provides a running commentary on every move her team makes, but none of it really makes any sense, and none of the other characters get it either.  I mean, I like Universe 2′s gimmicks, but I’d be lying if I said I understood any of this.  But I’ll try to explain it as well as I can. 

So for starters, Brianne is part of a trio called the Kamikaze Fireballs.  Or... Tokkou Hintotama.  Or... the Maiden Squadron.  The Dragon Ball Wiki can’t make up its mind.  We’re not off to a great start.  Geez, I could start a sideblog just trying to unpack Team Universe 2. 

All right, let’s soldier on.  Brianne’s the green-haired lady in pink, and that’s Sanka Coo on the left in blue, and Sousu Roas on the right in yellow.  I like her li’l hat, that’s adorable. 

I’m not totally dense here.  They’re clearly doing a Magical Girl/Pop Idol thing with this, although the rest of Team Universe 2 looks like a mishmash of completely unrelated genres.  From left to right, we have:

Bikal, a rejected Darkstalker character

Jimiz, an OC based on a single filler scene from an episode of DBZ (respect)

Rabanra a demon kid or something?  I don’t know

Zarbuto: Former star of the 1940′s sci-fi serial  Zap Astro’s Star Patrol.

Zirloin: A big blue dude in a Roman Soldier costume.

Also there’s a couple of snipers on the team, but we’ll get to them later.

Anyway, despite the aesthetic clash, the whole team is into Brianne’s love act, so they cheer her on as she and her partners to their big Magical Girl transformation.  Everyone watches, transfixed by confusion, resentment, or curiosity. 

Except for 17, who shoots hand lasers at them.

Everyone bawls out 17 for this.  In his defense, the Fireball Angels or whatever they’re called were wide open, and he already spared the last two girl opponents they ran into.  They’re here to win this thing, aren’t they?  But Goku wanted to see how much stronger the Kamikaze Maidens got, and he’s no stranger to long transformation sequences.  Also, Top buts into this argument, since he’s a big proponent of theatrics and elaborate poses in battle.  So 17′s like “Sheesh, fine.”  And the Fireball Squadron goes back to start over. 

Okay, so let’s be clear about this.  Lot’s of smartalecks out there love to poke fun at this stuff, and say things like “Why don’t they just shoot the hero during the long transformation sequence!”  This episode answers that question.

1) 17 just tried it.

2) It doesn’t work.  The ladies aren’t even hurt.

3) Everyone yelled at him for being impolite.

4) They’re just gonna start over again, so you might as well lay out and let them finish their spot. 

5) They don’t fly the ring to Mt. Doom because Sauron has flying monsters who would intercept those eagles you’re thinking of.  You’re not clever.

So yeah, we’re starting over.  That’s fine by me, I could watch this stuff all day.  KISS COSTUME CHANGE, ACTIVATE

  LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-OOOOOOO-VE GUN!

People try to tell me GT wasn’t that bad or the Zamasu Saga wasn’t that bad.  All I know is that I really dreaded sitting through all those shitty epiosdes, and this one is a breeze.  Everything’s so colorful and I like how the tournament stage looks like a Road Runner cartoon now, and nothing hurts.  Anyway, Brianne turns into Ribrianne, which has always confused me because it’s just her first name with two more letters in front of it.  

Sanka Coo becomes Kankusa, which.... they just rearranged her name for that, didn’t they?   Also she’s another cat lady, so if you missed the one from Universe 9, we’ve gotcha covered.

Sousu Roas becomes Rosie.  Well... that’s just a regular ass name.  That’d be like if Billy Batson said “Shazam” and turned into a guy named John.

Fuck yeah!  Fireball Ballfires Squadron in full effect! 

So first off, Ribrianne starts shooting pink hearts and pink smoke everywhere.  It’s not really clear what this is or how it works or what it does.  Helles just keeps talking about how it’s “love” and “beauty”, but that doesn’t actually convey any information.  At best, it just raises further questions. 

Top refuses to inhale the stuff...

But Goku takes a sniff, because why not?   It doesn’t seem to hurt him or anything. 

The Team U7 guys are unaffected, which they seem to consider a sign of their discipline, and they point out Roshi isn’t bothered, even though he would be the most at-risk.  He credits Puar for helping him overcome his uncontrollable horniness, so is that what this is?  Did Ribrianne shoot pheromones into the arena?  Is she trying to make everyone too horny to fight back?

I mean, part of the gag here is that the trio is supposed to start out pretty and then get super-extra beautiful when they transform, but Krillin thinks their transforms are kind of a step backwards, while Universe 10′s guys all seem blown away by how hot the girls are now.  So whether Ribrianne is beautiful is a subjective matter, which... I mean, that’s an interesting approach to a character, but it also gets kind of confusing.  I don’t think Ribrianne would be Roshi’s type, and yet he acts like he’s achieved something by resisting her charms.  The U10 guys are seduced by her, but it doesn’t matter because most of them are already eliminated.  And then you’ve got Vegeta, who seems to find her so revolting that he can barely stomach fighting her. Then again, Vegeta acts disgusted by everyone. 

So finally, these two go at it, and it’s my favorite pairing from this tournament, even though it doesn’t really amount to much.  They put a quick sequence of Vegeta fighting this big pink clown lady in the opening credits, and I was blown away by how awesome it looked, and so I was looking forward to Ribrianne ever since.  In this episode, they finally throw down, and the same cool fight sequence gets recycled here, with a little more thrown in for good measure.

I can’t explain it.  Maybe it’s the color scheme, or the fact that Vegeta is my second favorite DBZ character.  Ribrianne looks like his complete opposite, like they shouldn’t even be in the same cartoon.  She looks like an elementary school teacher who went a little overboard with her classroom’s Halloween party.  But she sees Vegeta coming at her and she’s like “Let’s go, jackass!”

I just love this image of a cutesie character just taking it to Vegeta, and he’s not gonna back down because he’s a Saiyan warrior who doesn’t run from a fight... except...

Rirbrianne comes at Vegeta with this rolling attack (Fireball of Me!) and Vegeta can’t bring himself to strike back.

He’s just too grossed out.  I don’t know if this is a fatphobic thing, or he can’t handle Ribrianne’s face looking like an old-timey TV screen, or maybe the rolling made him dizzy.  Or maybe the love smoke finally got to him.  Anyway, he backs off.

That suits Ribrianne just fine, as she hits another opponent instead and eliminates him.  Dyrasem, if you were wondering.  And yes, he’s a Universe 10 guy. 

So what about the other Jumping Bomb Angels?  Well, Rosie goes after Goku, and seems to do okay, although Goku’s been hustling fighters this whole Tournament, so “doing okay” against Goku is kind of a tricky thing to judge.  Still, you gotta hand it to these gals.  They jumped right in and went after the biggest cats in this tournament. 

Same with Kankasu, who’s determined to punish 17 for interrupting their transformation sequence earlier.  This is no place to hold a grudge, as Universe 9 already demonstrated.  But Kankasu is driven by animal passions or something, so she’s not exactly the level-headed one of the team.

She seems to have 17 on the ropes, just scratching, clawing, and biting him at will, but then he throws up his force field and shuts her down without any trouble.  He’s got infinite stamina, so it’s pretty easy for 17 to rope-a-dope someone.  I’m not clear on this spot, but I get the impression that Knakasu is somehow stuck?  Like, maybe she ‘s trapped within the forcefield instead of just clinging to the outside of it?

17 nearly eliminates Kankasu, but she’s saved by her teammate Bikal.  Good hustle, ladies.  Nice to see a team that watches each other’s backs.

Uh...

Okay.  Uh...

Yeah, I’m pretty sure Kankusa and Bikal are an item, you guys.

18′s like “Ha ha, those lesbians really wrecked your shit, 17.”  And 17′s like “Shut up, I was too distracted thinking about my cool park ranger job.” 

Now 17 means business.  To be fair, there’s dinosaurs at his job, so I can see how it would be hard to get in the right frame of mind for this event.  Anyway, he takes out Bikal first, so she won’t be able to save anyone else.

This enrages Kankusa, which also makes her fight sloppy.  17 gets the upper hand, and when Ribrianne tries to assist, Kankusa tells her to stay out of it.  Ribrianne respects her decision, which sort of exposes the team’s weakness.  The whole love thing is a great motivator and it keeps the team united, but also makes them a little too sentimental for their own good.  

Somehow she gets 17 up in the air and leaps after him, right into the path of the big light that shines down on the stage...

And this was 17′s plan.  He bounces off the surface of the light and launches himself back at her with an energy blast ready to go.  Is that even legal?  The Grand Zenos allow it,since it’s cool. 

17 congratulates Rosie for a battle well-fought, sort of like his muted appreciation to Piccolo when they fought in DBZ.  Then he blasts her out of the ring. 

Well, now they can hold hands on the bench, at least. 

So 17′s looking pretty great right now, but he’s also incurred the wrath of Ribrianne.  This looks like a pretty good cliffhanger, but I’m pretty sure the next episode has nothing to do with this at all.  I guess we’ll see.

[katherineholmes]

SEND ME A FANDOM (+ number) AND I WILL TELL YOU: 1, 2, 3, 15, 17 and 18 for TVDU fandom.

SEND ME A SHIP (+ number) AND I WILL TELL YOU: 1, 2, 5, 6, 8, 9 and 14 for Elejah and Klena.

SEND ME A CHARACTER (+ number) AND I WILL TELL YOU: 1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 8 and 10 for Elena, Klaus and Elijah.

Thank you so much for this question, I don’t think I’ve ever felt so flattered before. It means a lot to me that you want my opinion/answer on so many questions!

Since these are long, I’m going to answer this in three parts!

Fandom

The moment in the story that I started shipping my OTP from this world?

Well, my OTP is definitely Klena, and I think I started shipping them in episode 11 of season 2. Elena goes to Slater’s apartment to send that message to Klaus - the doppelgänger is alive and ready to surrender. And 14 year old me was immediately like 😍🤭👀. After that, Klaus asking Elena to save a dance for him and all was just….loaded.

Like, even before they met, there were these vibes and I was just in love with them. The way he holds her at the sacrifice, their chemistry during the prank night episode, it definitely got to me. They’ve been waxing and waning in my mind since then.

My three favorite characters and why I love them so much.

The first is, of course, Elena. That very first scene in the cemetery where she’s writing in her diary had me hooked. I was so intrigued by her loneliness and her depression, someone I could identify with, who was so internalised. I’d always felt weird about being an introvert, and Elena was one of the first characters that I identified with. Now, after a decade, I can also identify with her grief, and it’s just that much more personal to me.

The second is Klaus. When he first came on the show, I wasn’t sure what to make of him. I def found him attractive 😅 but I thought there was more to him that I needed to see. I thought, multiple times “what an asshole”, but I could also recognise his loneliness and his fear of being abandoned, and they just resonated with me. By s4 of TVD, I was already in love with him, and followed him onto TO. (That was for Elijah too 🤭)

And third, I think, is Cami. I loved Cami, I saw her as this girl trapped in darkness, and trying to find her way out, until eventually she didn’t want to find a way out anymore. It was nice to see someone who was somewhat ordinary getting trapped between these vampires. The beginning of her relationship with Klaus is so fascinating to me, like she obviously sees him as a tortured soul, while he is actively hurting her through his mind control. But she fights back, and she’s tenacious, she’s probably one of the few people who fights against Klaus’ compulsion and then gets out of it. Refuses to play by his games but also plays him sometimes to get what she wants. Her struggle with vampirism was so, so real, and both her deaths were the saddest I’ve seen in that universe.

Which scene I would like to erase from the universe and why.

Ugh, the entire torture episode. Where Damon and Stefan (the saviours 🙄) both torture Elena to turn her humanity back on. Get Katherine to help too, just disgusting. That episode shows just how much internalised misogyny some of the show runners themselves held.

Which character I would choose for the chopping block if I knew the writers wanted to kill someone?

Probably Matt. Like, I like him well enough, but after a certain point, what does he even bring to the table?

The world-building aspect of the story I have the greatest admiration for.

The Originals for sure! I absolutely love s3 of TVD but s2 is so fucking good. The build up is amazing, first we’re introduced to Isobel, then that Katherine entry (like damn), just when we think she’s the baddest, Elijah shows up and scares the fuck out of Katherine.

And then, this intense build up to Klaus and sun and moon curse, only for us to learn that it was all fake, and to know about the real curse. It’s just…. Brilliant storytelling. Like yes, there are loopholes, and it’s the CW, but it’s just so well paced. I’ll be honest though, once the originals show up, it feels like we go into a different level. So much of the credit for that goes to Daniel and then Joseph, they were both brilliant, and they brought something unique to their roles that made us want to see them more. They elevated every scene they were in and Paul, Nina and Kat were the only ones who could keep up imo, at least in terms of screen presence.

The perfect number of books/seasons/movies needed to tell this story properly.

I think 4-5 seasons were more than enough. I’m not a fan post s4 (and s4 hangs on by a thread).

[jrosa82fanfics]

Part 7 of Finding Family

Over the years he had received gifts from his family and friends. His room had several pictures of him with the people he had come to care for and yet something was missing. He had noticed what it was years ago but he had yet to fix the problem.

At first he had wanted to bide his time but now that the time had come he wasn’t sure he could do it. He grabs one of his sketchbooks the image he finds after flipping through a few pages a familiar one, one he had drawn over and over in the years that he had lived in the manor.

He remembers the first time he had drawn it, the way every line had been so challenging the proof in the amount of eraser marks still visible. The image is clunky, not quite accurate, not smooth and well shaded like his more recent ones.

He looks through the book and sees the progress made over the course of hours, days, and weeks. There are a variety of images, and as he moves through the pages he sees everything from birds to trees to the view from his fathers office.

The first of these sketchbooks had been given to him by Jason. It’s one of the first memories he has with the omega and definitely one of the sweetest.

**********

He knew he was being difficult, but the change in lifestyle is jarring. When his father had brought him to breakfast he had expected food and a talk about their plans for Damian’s future. Instead he’s met with three other boys, all older than him, sitting and eating breakfast.

They all stop and stare in shock when they spot him following behind his father, and their reaction causes him to snap. “You didn’t mention you had any guests over, father, especially not rude ones who stare like they’ve never seen another person before.”

He sits uncomfortably, beside the eldest of the group. Across from him are the other two, and everyone’s eyes seemed to widen even more at his statement.

And then, “Since when do you have another kid!” “What is he talking about!” comes from the older pair, the youngest of the group remaining silent though he turns a glare on Damian.

“I’ll discuss this with you all later in my office, for now this is Damian and he’ll be joining us for breakfast.” Is the reply his father gives from his seat at the head of the table before beginning to eat. Damian follows suit, and so do the others.

Later, once his father has briefly made it clear that Damian is staying with them from here on out, Damian finds himself in the library. He had been exploring the house trying to figure out where everything is and find a place to be alone.

Instead he finds himself face to face with Jason, the second eldest of the group, reading in a pile of well organized blankets and pillows that looked quite comfortable. Upon entering the man raises his gaze from the page of his book to look at Damian.

“Hey there, did you want to read? There’s plenty of room in my nest for two, since usually Tim joins me.” Jason says.

“Sure.” he replies although he’s not certain what to do.

He just arrived and didn’t have a book in mind, but once Jason saw his problem he waved him over to sit. “Here I usually have a few books with me so I don’t have to get up for a few hours. You can read this one, if you want. I’ve read it before and it shouldn’t be too hard for you.”

And that’s how Damian ends up reading The Art of War for half an hour in companionable silence with Jason. They’re interrupted by the arrival of Tim who despite his earlier aggression seemed to have moved past any possible resentment.

He informed them that it was time for dinner and the three of them made their way to the dining room. After dinner he returned to his room, and found a gift laying on the bed. It came with a note saying

Damian, I know living in a new place is hard, so I got you a gift. You can use this as a sketchbook or a journal or for whatever else you want.  Welcome to the manor, Jason

He grabbed the sketchbook and opened it to the first page. Using a pencil from the set that Jason had left for him he began drawing and so began the rest of his life in the manor.

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

Transcript:

Damian,

I know living in a new place is hard, so I got you a gift. You can use this as a sketchbook or a journal or for whatever else you want. 

Welcome to the manor,

Jason

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

<3J

[brooklynislandgirl]

for the sinday spare change cup.

...Spare a Little... || Accepting

It’s been so long since trial prep. Long enough that even she couldn’t, with her prodigious understanding of numbers, count the hours that have lapsed since the moment she walked into the hospital room and the time she sat in this moulded plastic chair with a Styrofoam  ~hadn’t they been banned because of the horrific environmental impact~ cup of ersatz coffee in hand. The glare of the fluorescent light overhead makes her squint. Encourages the start of a headache at the backs of her eyes with their intermittent flicker. It’s cold here, and graceless, and she can think of a million different places she’d rather be. But then it’s all questions. Ones she has answers for, given by monotonous rote. The same ones repeated in different ways at alternating ways. Trying to catch her in a lie. It’s questioning, not an arrest, and they don’t dare bring up allowing her a lawyer, they don’t mention her brother, the homicide detective. For once in her life, she doesn’t need Andy to defend her. She doesn’t need Jay to spin a story to cover things up.

Not when Frank had shown up on her doorstep, beaten and bloody. And with a friend. It takes her hours to undo what may have happened within minutes. He never does tell her exactly what happened. It is not that he wants to keep her hands as clean as he can ~it’s far too late for either of them to hope for that~ though Frank still believes he can be a tarnished knight in her eyes, that there’s redemption to be found. Only he doesn’t realise he’s doing what needs to be done. That there is a price, consequences for the actions of others, that has to be paid. He’s simply the one who collects. That it’s Billy under her hands, ripped and torn to shreds, that’s where she fails. Can’t make herself ask what happened and why. How they got from being brothers ~maybe even more tightly bound than Andy and Sam ever were~ to...to this. And why Frank hadn’t followed the advice he gave her once. He wasn’t trying to kill. He was obliterating Billy, erasing him from existence. She does what she can. The scars if any will be minimal. He’ll have a chance to live out his days if Frank doesn’t bite back and change his mind. Then there’s hushed conversation about what’s going to happen afterwards, with Billy, with everything that’s come to light, and for the first time she can recall, there’s something in Frank’s eyes; grief and regret that underlies the determination there, a glimpse at the vulnerable man beneath everything he shoves to the forefront.  Oh how she aches to take it all away. But that isn’t her where her power lies. When he finally agrees to get some decent stab at sleep, he is the only one. She won’t let him sleep on the couch. The floor. Wherever else he suggests. Not this time. This time Frank’s the little spoon. Her arms wrap around him after he comes out of her shower. She presses her face into his back and her hand to his chest. Holds him as tightly as her meagre strength allows because someone’s got to. She does dream though. Dreams of waking up to find that they’ve shifted and it’s her thighs and not her arms that are wrapped around him. Of scrambling to get just that much closer, even if he stops her. Hands that cage her jaw, her throat, that get lost in her hair. She dreams that he swallows the sigh that comes skittering out of her. That for all the things he can be, Frank is softer. Slower. Tender. She dreams that he makes some quiet sound in the back of his throat when he empties into her, a wave in an endless sea, all foam and promise and... Retreating.

“When was the last time you saw Frank Castle, Ms. Riley?” One slender digit taps the file in front of her.  “And I’m going to tell you what I’ve been telling you. Frank Castle is dead, and I work in one of the busiest emergency rooms in the city. Time and date are recorded on the report, which I would have to double check because I can’t be expected to remember every detail of every report I sign off on. Can you remember every single person you’ve arrested in the last ten years? If so, please tell me how you do it.” The lie is honey-smooth. Truth is, she sees Frank almost once a week when she closes her eyes, whether she wants to or not. And she’s always disappointed come morning and he isn’t actually there. “Oh, an’ for the record? It’s Doctor Riley.”

[mirururuguramu]

Personally, I think Fuuta does acknowledge in his 2nd MV that what he did is wrong.

Since he doesn't see himself as a hero delivering justice anymore.

But as someone who engages in grafitti instead, which isn't exactly a legal activity either

As grafitti is described as

a form of visual communication, usually illegal, involving the unauthorized marking of public space

So yeah, Fuuta doesn't see himself to be all that righteous anymore.

While grafitti is about wanting to send a message, it's commonly understood imo that this is usually done via underhanded means.

In a way, this points to Fuuta acknowledging that his means of 'delivering justice' (a.k.a. making callout posts & possibly online harassment) is underhanded & not entirely legal too.

The beginning of his 2nd MV suggests this too, where he asks "Is it all ok if I offer penance?" while showing that there's light behind him, as if he considered repenting and backing out on what he's been doing to behave and be a good citizen again.

He ultimately decides against it, thinking that it'd be futile anyway.

(And after Es told him in the 2nd voice drama that they won't grant him mercy either way, this line of thinking is understandable.)

So he willingly walks into the darkness, willingly dabbles in not-so-legal activities and proceeds from there.

Another thing that suggests Fuuta acknowledging his past actions to be wrong:

He sees their grafitti to be an act of defacing someone.

They override someone's image with the colors, views, that they project onto them.

Which ultimately leads to the erasure and demise of the original image.

This contrasts how Fuuta perceived the situation back in the first MV

Where most of the time, it's a fantasy RPG consisting of a hero and his party that go on quests to defeat monsters.

Not to mention, when everyone turned against him in the end, the scene abruptly shifted & became more grounded in reality.

Fuuta's party wasn’t shown to have turned against him and targeted Fuuta as the next monster to eliminate.

Hinting at Fuuta having a hierarchy in mind in the 1st MV.

He saw himself and his team as human, while he saw their targets as monsters.

And since the monsters were always defeated in that MV, it almost seemed like Fuuta saw himself and his team to be above them.

But this isn't quite the case with his 2nd MV anymore. There’s no more hierarchy between the monsters (the targets) and humans (Fuuta and his team). 

By then, the playing ground’s been leveled in Fuuta’s mind, and sees himself to be at the same level as his targets & those who targeted them with him.

At the very least, we see in the latter half of his 2nd MV that all the 'players' are human— both the wielders of spray cans and the one being sprayed on.

And Fuuta brings down Es, with the entirety of MILGRAM, to their level.

As he believes that Es is committing the same crime as them. That they’ve only been projecting their own views— their own color— onto the prisoners, and that as a result, the unforgiven are slowly defaced because of their actions

(In a literal sense, this might mean that they’ve been slowly losing their sense of self as a result of the constant invalidation through our verdict)

And will be permanently erased over time if they kept that up, either from the mental strain caused by their (”our”) verdict, or from the physical damage that Kotoko’s been inflicting, especially since she’s made it clear that she’s out to eliminate those who Es chose not to forgive— those who didn’t align with their views basically.

So TLDR, I suspect that Fuuta’s already learned his lesson, he knows at this point that what he did is straight-up wrong.  Because if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have painted himself to be doing illegal things in his MV— chose to do them even, despite knowing that they aren’t right.

He wouldn’t have shown himself, along with his group, doing something that ultimately led to the death of someone— shown not as a monster, but as a person.

Which means that him being like this in the 2nd Trial isn’t simply because he was caught for his crimes, although I acknowledge that he may have only backtracked in the first place because that happened.

Fuuta: Right…! It wasn’t just me alone who was ganging up on the person who died! There’s no way to know whose comments lead to their death!

Because of that, I have hopes that he won’t simply... bounce back to being a jerk if ever he’s forgiven this round, what with his MV already showing his acknowledgment of being involved in someone’s death.  

By this point, the only thing that he can’t accept is that he’s the only one receiving punishment for these sins, if these lines from the Trial 2 voice drama are anything to go by:

Es: That might be true. You might not be the only one who needs to be judged for this. But…

Fuuta: Then – isn’t it weird that I’m the only one who has to go through all of this? Being locked up in a weird nonsensical prison, having to let some brat lecture me, being faced with eyes constantly judging me…

+

Fuuta: (laughs) There’s nothing that sets you and me apart. You’re also getting entertainment out of my– out of our sins!

Es: I… just do this because I want to get to know more about y—

Fuuta: (laughs) You and I are exactly the same breed! The only difference between us is the clothes we’re wearing. Like I’d let someone like this judge whether I should be forgiven or not!

The reason for this is because he believes his group, as well as MILGRAM, are equally as guilty as him, and thus shouldn’t be getting away scot-free. Not when they’ve committed the same crimes as him.

Either way, this doesn’t change the fact that imo, Fuuta’s already acknowledged that he’s in the wrong.

[paradisetemporarilymisplaced]

So I was being a basic bitch the other day and listening to my true crime podcasts when it occurred to me just how suspicious Nile’s “death” would look to everyone not in the Guard, leading me to a train of thought that, 2200 words later, absolutely got away from me but I can’t let go so I’m inflicting it on all of you!

To set the stage, we know the movie takes place over approximately a week. Here’s what happens to Nile from the military’s point of view:

She dies is very seriously injured

She heals without a scratch

Just before she’s supposed to be shipped out to Germany, she vanishes, leaving two men concussed (and presumably reporting being knocked out by a woman with short hair wearing civilian clothes)

She goes AWOL for several days

They get word from the CIA that she is to be reported killed in action (details unclear)

So, at the beginning of this very weird week, the USMC has to tell Nile’s family of her death critical injury. What her family was told depends on how long she was dead – a Google search tells me that family will be notified in person within 8 hours of a soldier’s death, but we don’t know how long her first death lasted. For an injury, however, they’d get a phone call to notify them and the unit would arrange for them to visit as soon as the soldier is transferred out of a combat zone. Like I remember when I was in high school, a guy from my church who was a Marine was really seriously injured in a helicopter crash in Iraq and from what I could tell, his parents were told immediately and were flown out to Germany to see him, so it stands to reason that Nile’s family would have been informed relatively quickly after her throat was slashed, one way or another.

And then, she goes AWOL. Her family would be notified while the USMC tried to figure out where she went, not least because the military would want to know if she’s contacted them. (And it’s possible that her family may have been on the way to Germany to see her since we know that’s where she was supposed to go!) So for several days:

Nile’s mom and brother have no idea where she is

They know she was seriously injured and most certainly should not have been moving around on her own

They can’t get a hold of her

The military can’t tell them anything

And the next thing they know for sure is that she was “killed in action.” After being injured and vanishing into thin air. And they presumably cannot produce her body or any concrete evidence of her death. In any case, something sketchy is going on, so they’re like. SMELLS LIKE A MILITARY COVERUP.

In a surprise to probably no one, there is a well-documented legacy of mysterious US military deaths, particularly of women of color (TW for sexual assault in these links). The cases of LaVena Johnson and Vanessa Guillenin particular have made national news because of their families’ persistence in seeking justice. Likewise, Nile is a Black woman, and her mom and brother are most certainly hypercognizant of (a) state violence against Black people and (b) these high-profile cases of suspicious military deaths. So her family are seriously side-eyeing the situation, knowing that (a) the military has a serious incentive (and a documented history) of covering up things that make them look bad and (b) nothing about Nile’s disappearance and supposed death are adding up.

And Andy’s right. Nile does come from warriors. And you know who else does? Her brother.

Don’t get me wrong. Nile’s mom would absolutely not back down. She’d know something was up and want to get to the bottom of it. But based on what I know about Gen X parents (mine), they’re not the most technologically savvy. Like they can use the internet, but they didn’t grow up with it the way we young millennials and Gen Z did. So Nile’s brother takes the lead. And what do zillennials do best?

Social media.

Nile’s brother starts going hard on any site he can, trying to get the word out to see if anyone knows what happened to his sister. He starts a Reddit thread. He starts a Facebook group. He reaches out to the media and true crime bloggers and podcasters à la Sarah Turney, getting loud and being a general nuisance in hopes of getting some answers. He gets his friends and Nile’s friends involved. Maybe eventually Dizzy, Jay, and others from Nile’s unit hear about it and reach out, telling him what they saw and how weird it all was. He’s drumming up interest, and soon “Nile Freeman” becomes a household name (at least among the true crime fans).

Copley is, of course, trying his best, but at this point there is just so much that it’s impossible for him to scrub everything. Sure, he can erase new footage of Nile and the Guard, but what can he do about Reddit threads and podcast episodes that are speculating something weird has happened? Maybe he could hack the sites and shut those things down, but honestly, that’s the last thing he’d want to do, because that only adds weight to the theory that Nile’s disappearance is a military coverup. So eventually he has to tell Andy what’s going on.

Andy, obviously, does not take the news well. However, she is also completely computer illiterate, because that’s Booker’s job and he’s the only one who ever bothered to learn what the internet is in any meaningful way. (She probably calls Booker for advice, and for the record, I think Booker would have no qualms about shutting down conspiracy threads, tinhats be damned, but Copley is too concerned about the consequences. He’s ex-CIA for crying out loud, he knows how it’ll look if they scrub every mention of Nile’s name from the internet.) Maybe she confers with Joe and Nicky but, let’s be honest, they’d be equally unhelpful. So at this point, she knows they have to bring in Nile.

But the thing about Nile is that she, too, knows how to use the internet (duh). Aside from her being a young millennial/digital native, we know from the cave scene where she’s giving Booker suggestions on how to track Copley that she clearly is even more computer savvy than the average person. And for that reason she almost definitely took over the day-to-day tech stuff after Booker’s exile. So I think it would be foolish to expect her to be unaware of what’s happening. She’s not contacting her family or posting on the message boards or anything, but she knows what’s up. So Copley and the team probably sit her down to “break the news,” but we know the girl does not have a poker face (see: literally shooting herself in the foot and not being able to play it cool whatsoever) and cracks immediately, telling them she’s seen everything about her case – she’s not interacting with any of it, she certainly didn’t instigate anything, but she knows. (And she is so goddamn proud of her brother.)

At this point, I’d like to pause and consider Nile’s role in the overall narrative of this movie. She’s set up as a foil to Andy, obviously, but she’s also a foil to Booker. Booker, who, like Andy, is a serious pessimist, but who, unlike Andy, still has very fresh memories and trauma associated with being the new kid, which have destroyed him. In his mind (and Andy’s), if Nile communicates with her family, she’ll become just like him in a century or two – bitter, alone, and stuck with her grief and memories of watching her family die and knowing they died resenting her. It’s a small sample size, but this is the only experience they have to go off of.

But it doesn’t have to be like that.

There’s been a lot of discussion of TOG being a fundamentally queer movie – a group of people brought together because of something inherent about themselves that is different, that must be hidden, that causes others to hate, fear, and reject them. Booker’s backstory is the archetypal traumatic “coming out” story – his family learns who he is, hate him for it, and attempt to cast him out of their lives. He’s stuck with his trauma, his pain, his loss, and it consumes him.

But what if Nile’s family would be the opposite? What if her “coming out” to them as immortal is met with acceptance, love, celebration? What if her family is just overjoyed to have her back, and they don’t care what the circumstances are? I'm reminded of this incredible post from @shitty-old-guard-deaths a while back, where Nile’s mother hits Booker with a frying pan because “my baby let me believe she was dead for FIVE YEARS based on your bad advice???” (which may or may not have inspired this whole tangent). Nile takes the advice of someone who did the same thing she wants to do because she doesn’t want to risk her family’s rejection. She wants the good memories with her family and is afraid that showing them her true self will bring her unbearable pain, forever replacing those memories. But, with high risk comes high reward.

Anyway. Nile and the team are trying to come up with a plan for how to handle this whole thing, but she’s not really participating because she’s too afraid to hope. Until finally, quickly, so she doesn’t lose her nerve, she suggests she reach out to them, knowing that, realistically, that’s the only solution before things snowball even further out of control. The team is shocked, but realize that she has a point. They decide that Copley should actually be the first point of contact, posing as a US government official to talk with them and test the waters.

So Copley goes to Nile’s family’s house to talk with her mom and brother. They’re probably distrustful and apprehensive, but nonetheless secretly ecstatic that their work has paid off. They talk and review all of the information that they’ve collected, including testimonials from the people on Nile’s base and recent sightings (along with photos) of Nile (with the same three people) over the last few years that people have sent them but they haven’t posted publicly. At this point, Copley’s like, yeah this is about to blow up, we gotta put our cards on the table. He convinces them to come with him to some safe house/black site/whatever he can get that is technologically impenetrable (I’m picturing them in like, an interrogation room at a police station kind of deal), takes their phones, locks the doors, and brings in Nile.

What follows is the most delightful reunion scene of all time, bringing Joe, Nicky, and even Andy to tears as they watch and listen from outside the room. With Copley’s help, Nile tells her mom and brother about her immortality and what’s been going on since she died (within reason, of course), and they are thrilled. They don’t understand why (because no one does) but they don’t question it and they see it as a gift from God – she’s been resurrected, she will live, and she has a purpose. Her mother and brother are so happy to see her again and are willing to agree with pretty much anything to stay in her life as long as they can.

So. They set up some complicated agreement (they bring in the other three for support/intimidation as needed) setting the terms of their relationship. They swear Nile’s family to secrecy, maybe bringing up the lab to show how high the stakes are, and they readily agree. They come up with some cover story for Nile’s brother to share on the message boards (maybe that the government has opened an investigation but because it’s an open case he has to shut it all down? Tells people to direct their tips somewhere else? Something to that effect). There’s still speculation, of course, but without Nile’s brother at the helm providing the energy, the hype dies down as news stories are wont to do without any movement. And Nile’s family goes to work for the team. The experience has taught them that Copley can’t possibly do everything himself, especially when it comes to social media, so Nile’s brother takes the lead on the day-to-day tracking/social media while Copley and her mom focus on finding jobs and scrubbing their traces afterward.

So there you have it: Nile gets to integrate her biological family into her found family and spend the rest of their lives with them as it should be, Copley gets some badly needed help managing the reality of social media, the team finally has a positive narrative surrounding outsiders Knowing About Them AND about interacting with people from their previous life, and the audience gets the happy ending to this very lovely and very queer story to counteract the pain associated with Booker’s family.

Plus, you know, I’m a sucker for both a good government conspiracy theory and for Nile getting every good thing she deserves.

[sapphicsmaximoff]

earth-326 (pt. 4) - wanda maximoff

a/n: i’m back! finally a free weekend, and i’m posting now. i’ve also finished ease into it, and i’ll post that and the new regal ties chapter soon🤦🏽‍♀️

i ii iii iv

“So…you’re blind?” The girl asks softly, eyes curious as she analyzes your cloudy eyes and tired face. “It’s temporary. I had a brother who could do it too, but his didn’t react the way mine does. It burns the inside of my eye.”

Wanda frowns, feeling guilty about how she led you to use it twice. “I’m sorry.” You smirk. “Don’t be. It happens more often than you think. When I get angry, it bursts. I sometimes pass out.” You chuckle. “That’s horrible.”

“It’s more of a blessing than a curse, keeps people from underestimating me.”

<>

Right now, you were furious.

Wanda begs for you to calm down as you pace the room. “They’ve denied my request twice! How the hell am I supposed to keep up with payments in a reduced teacher’s salary?! No, Jane. I can’t-Ten thousand?! Fucking great.” You look over to Wanda, sighing.

“I’ll call you back.” You hang up the phone, sighing. “That was-That was a friend. She said the owner of a private hospital we took you to for maybe two months because they were doing renovations here, they’re trying to charge with interest, which is fucking illegal! I think.” Wanda frowns as tears fall from your eyes, a faint blue hue in them.

“Just calm down.”

“How?! They’re trying to swindle us out of money!” She curled her fingers, and you blinked hard. Shaking your head, you sigh. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I was so mad.” You didn’t seem to notice her tendrils calming your brain as you sat in a huff.

The action felt natural. It reminded her of WandaVision.

Yes, despite her love for you, she chose Vision. But she made a way. Of course, since Thanos ripped your wings and killed you right in front of her, it was jarring. Reanimating you was definitely regretful.

But the way she could control you felt good, and it seemed like this Wanda did that too. It wasn’t of her own mind to ease yours. “Um…” You couldn’t think, your last few seconds of thought forgotten. “How are you today?” You smile.

“Fine.”

“That’s good.”

“How’s Tommy?”

“I wish I knew.”

“Is he mad at me?” Yes. She already knew the answer, but you became furious again. You were angry that the boy had feelings you couldn’t handle.

He wasn’t there when you were holding Wanda’s bloody body in you arms as you flew away. He didn’t feel your pain. “I don’t know.”

<>

You two didn’t have many arguments, but it was obvious how upset you’d become about Wanda going off by herself. “You can’t just leave us, and make decisions that could get us all hurt!”

“We got the job done.”

“You got shot!”

“You’re the one that wanted to do this mission, Y/N!”

“I get that. And that…” She watches you point directly to her bullet wound. “Is exactly why I regret it!” She groans loudly, not noticing her red tendrils flowing from her fingers,

“JUST STOP!” The outburst caused you to stumble, her magic filling the room. You shook your head, sniffling. Frowning in confusion, you watched your girlfriend who was just as confused and concerned.

“Oh.” You rub your eyes, and stand up straight. “I’m sorry. What were you saying? I don’t-“ She frowns. “What?”

“What were you saying?” Wanda frowned as she saw the tendrils disappear from your eyes. “Nothing. We were talking about relaxing all day, right?” You look around, just as confused. “Yeah. I guess. I don’t remember.”

<>

So it seemed this Wanda was better at manipulation that she was. She was shocked when she got you to calm a few days ago. It had been so effortless.

It’s not like she hadn’t done it in the hex, but it was harder to maintain hundreds of minds at a time, and that was why she’d shut some off to release the weight. Trying to hold Vision was hard enough.

Then she searched this mind for clues of what else you couldn’t remember. That argument she dreamed of. The fact that she left you for Vision was something she erased too. As memories came back, small ones surrounded that big memory. 

Erasing your memory when you fought seemed like an addiction for this Wanda. “Wanda.” She was taken out her thoughts by your voice. “They said you can leave if you want, or get extra treatment. I mean they said you were fine, so-” You scratched the back of your neck as you kept your eye on the boys running around the hallway. 

“Guys! Slow down, thank you.” They slow down as you look back at your wife. “Yeah, I’ll be fine going home, I can walk now.” She notices your glare as your ear moved towards the sound of your sons running around. 

“Hey.” She grabs your hand. “Focus on me.” You take a deep breath, and look over at her. “I’m sorry.” She smiles, cupping your cheeks. “It’s okay.” 

<>

The ride back was quiet. Wanda watches everything as you pass through the streets. It was about an hour into the ride, and although you’d let the twins bring their tablets, they fell asleep halfway through. 

“The house is little different, a little less decoration. I know you like that stuff, but I haven’t had time.” She looks over at you as you place your foot on the brake at a light. “That’s fine, I don’t really-”

“The house is clean though, I swear. Like...I know I was messy when we moved there, but-”

“Y/N.” You stop breathing hard, and look over at her for a second before continuing to drive. “I’m sorry.” She chuckles. 

“You have to stop apologizing.” She spares a glance at the boys. “Obviously, you’ve done a great job. I could care less about decorations.” You look at her with a smile, before turning back to the road. 

She seemed different, more in her head. She also seemed calmer. Maybe it was the years in solitude, you’d never know. 

<>

You pulled up to the house, and your wife hadn’t lasted too long before falling asleep as well. You parked the car, nervously looking around your car to make sure everything is okay before you wake everyone up. 

You were right about no decoration, which Wanda didn’t mind. The house was real like it was on the other Earth and when she created it in her head. When you both walked upstairs to put them down, the room looked the same. 

The boys, particularly Billy, said goodnight to their mom. Tommy did say goodnight, but tried to avoid her kiss. Instead of letting him go, she held onto his arm and pulled him close. “I’m sorry.” She whispers. He stares at her for a second, but it’s like the boy sees something in her eyes. 

You watched in amazement as he almost smiled for the first time in the last two months. “Night, Mom.” She smiles back wider, letting him walk over to her bed. “I’m so happy you’re back.” Billy beams. “Me too.”

You shut off their light, and closed the door as Wanda beelined towards your room, but you were set on walking downstairs to your study. “Where are you going?” She asks. “Oh, I-I have papers. I let my students do online until you were set, but my boss is urging me to come back or they might find a replacement.” She frowns. 

“I’m sorry.” You chuckle. 

“Who’s the one apologizing now?” She smirks, and you look around. “Unless... You want to convince me to just do it in the morning?” A smirk finds her lips, and she shakes her head. “I don’t know... It sounds like important work. Plus, do we even know if I’m ready for...that.” Your smile widens, and you place your arms around her waist. “We could test it out.” 

“Kinky. Tell me...do your wings still burst out of your back when I blow your mind?” You gasp, backing away. “I can’t believe you remember that, I’m going.” You smile, turning around to walk away. 

“I was kidding!” She yells in a whisper. You turn around, softly jogging to her, and picking her up. She bursts out in a low giggle ad you carry her to the room. “I know.”

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